Rosanna (1)/Part II

PART II.

Into the lonely valley she
⁠Would often wander all alone;
Sighing sadly to assuage her grief,
⁠Tons in the bower would often mourn.

Oh that I was some pretty bird,
⁠That I might fly and hide my shame,
Oh silly maid, for to believe
⁠All the fair delusions of a man.

The harmless lamb can sport and pray,
⁠The turtle constant to his mate,
Nothing so wretched is as I,
⁠To love a man that does me hate.

I will to him a letter send,
⁠Remembering of the oath he made,
Within the tender bower where
⁠My tender heart lie first betrayed.

Her trembling land a letter wrote,
⁠My dearest dear, what must I do?
Alas! what have I done, that I
⁠Am forsaken and forgot by you?

I could have many a lord of fame,
⁠Who little knows my misery;
I did forsake a worthy knight,
⁠'Tis for the love I bear to thee.

And now my little infant dear
⁠Will quickly spread abroad my shame,
One line of comfort to me send,
⁠Ere by your cruelty I am slain.

This answer he to her did send,
⁠Your insolence amazeth me,
To think that I should marry one
⁠With whom before I have been free.

Indeed I will no father be
⁠Unto any bastard you may bear,
So take no further thought of me,
⁠No more from you pray let me hear.

When she this letter did receive,
⁠She wrung her hands and wept full sore,
And every day she still would range,
⁠To lament within that pleasant bower

The faithless wretch began to think
⁠How noble were her parents dear.
He said, I sure will punished be,
⁠Soon as the story they shall hear.

So then the devil he did begin
⁠To enter in his wretched mind,
Her precious life he then must have,
⁠An opportunity thus he did find.

He many times had watch'd her out
⁠Into the pleasant valley, where
One day he privately did go,
⁠When he knew the lady was not there.

And privately he dug a grave,
⁠Underneath an oaken tree;
Then in the branches he did hide,
⁠For to act this piece of cruelty.

Poor harmless soul, she nothing knew,
⁠As usual she went there alone,
And on a bank of violets she
⁠In mournful silence sat her down.

Of his unkindness did complain,
⁠At length she did the grave espy,
She rose indeed to view the same,
⁠Little thinking he was so nigh.

You gentle gods so kind, said she,
⁠Did you this grave for me prepare:
He then descended from the tree,
⁠Saying, strumpet, thy death is near.

Oh, welcome, welcome, she replied,
⁠As long as by your hands I die,
This is a pleasant marriage bed,
⁠I'm ready-use your cruelty.

But may the heavens bring to light
⁠Thy crime, and thus let it appear:
Winter and summer on this grave,
⁠May the damask rose in ⟨bloom⟩ spring here.

Never wither though 'tis cropp'd,
⁠But when thy hand doth touch the same,
Then may the bloom that minute blast,
⁠To bring to light thy bitter shame.

More she'd have said, but with his sword
⁠He pierced her tender body through,
Then threw her in the silent grave,
⁠And filled the grave close up again.

With weeds the same did overspread,
⁠Then unconcerned straight went home,
Immediately went he to his bed,
⁠And thought no more of what he'd done.

The loss of their young daughter dear,
⁠Her parents much did grieve,
She was sought after far and near,
⁠For to all the riches she was heir.

'Tis twelve months since that this was done,
⁠There's thousands for a truth doth know't
And many wonder'd at the same,
⁠For all the winter it did spring.

If any one did crop that rose,
⁠In a moment it would grow again;
This thing was blaz'd the country round,
⁠And thousands went the same to see.

He amongst the rest must curious be,
⁠To go and see if it was true,
And when unto the place he came,
⁠The beauteous rose he saw in bloom.

The leaves did fall from off the bush,
⁠The rose within his hand did die;
He cried, 'tis fair Rosanna's blood,
⁠That did spring from her fair body.

Many people that were there,
⁠Took notice of what he did say,
They told he had some murder done,
⁠He the truth confess'd without delay.

They dug and found the body there,
⁠The first of April it was known,
He was seiz'd and carried off to jail,
⁠And shortly after suffer'd his doom.