The other won't agree thereto, So here they fall to strife; About the childrens' life: Did slaye the other there, While babes did quake for feare. Teares standing in their eye, And look they did not crye: While they for food complaine: When I come backe againe. Went wandering up and downe; Approaching from the town: Were all besmear'd and dyed, They sat them downe and cryed. Thus wandered these poor innocents, Till deathe did end their grief, In one anothers armes they dyed, As wanting due relief: Of any man receives, Did cover them with leaves. Upon their uncle fell; 1 His barnes were fir’d, his goodes consum'd, His landes were barren made, And nothing with him stayd. Two of his sonnes did dye; To want and miserye: Ere seven yeares came about. Did by this meanes come out. These children for to kill, Such was God's blessed will; As here hath been display'd: Where he for debt was layd. You that executors be made, And overseers eke And infants mild and meek; And yield to each his right, Your wicked minds requite. This most pathetic Ballad has received ample elucidation, from the pen of Mr. Addison, in the 85th No. of the Speciator, to which, as the Spectator either is or should be in every reader's possession, I shall content myself with referring. LILLI BURLERO. Ho! broder Teague, dost hear de decree ? Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Ho! hy shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Dough by my shoul de English do prat, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. De law's on dare side, and Chreist knows what. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. But if dispence do come from de pope, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. For de good Talbote is made a lord, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Who all in France have taken a sware, Lilli burlero, bullen-a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Arrah! but why does he stay behind, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Dare was an old prophesy found in a bog, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. This Ballad has been generally attributed to Lord Wharton. It was written and published upon Richard Lord Talbot, newly created Lord Tyrconnel, being appointed to the lieutenancy of Ireland, in 1688, on account of his being a violent Papist. Slight and insignificant as it now seems, its effect was more powerful than the Philippics of Demosthenes, or the orations of Cicero, and contributed in no small degree, to bring about the great revolution that happened the same year. " A foolish Ballad,” says Burnet, " was made at that time, treating the Papists, and chiefly the Irish, in a very ridiculous manner, which had a burden said to be Irish words, Lero, lero, lilli burlero, &c. that made an impression on the [king's] army, that cannot be imagined by those that saw it not. The whole army, and at last the people, both in city and co y, were singing it perpetually. And perhaps never had so slight a thing, so great an effect. THE PATIENT COUNTESS. IMPATIENCE chaungeth smoke to flame, But jelousie is hell; Ill husbands to live well: Of whom I now shall tell. An earle 'there was' had wedded, lov'd; Was lov'd, and lived long At last he did her wrong. Long fasting, and the heat Within a forest great. And persons might afforde, Were set him on the borde. A cushion made of lists, a stoole Halfe backed with a hoope Besides a sorry coupe. poore old couple wisht their bread Were wheat, their whig were perry, Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds Were creame, to make him merry. Meane while, in russet neatly clad, With linen white as swanne, Herselfe more white, save rosie where The ruddy colour ranne: |