2 WITCH.

I have beene gathering wolves haires,

The madd dogges foames, and adders eares;

The spurging of a deadmans eyes:

And all since the evening starre did rise.

3 WITCH.

I last night lay all alone

O' the ground, to heare the mandrake grone;
And pluckt him up, though he grew full low:

And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.

4 WITCH.

And I ha' beene chusing out this scull
From charnell houses that were full;

From private grots, and publike pits;

And frighted a sexton out of his wits.

5 WITCH.

Under a cradle I did crepe

By day; and, when the childe was a-sleepe
At night, I suck'd the breath; and rose,

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10

15

And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose.

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6 WITCH.

I had a dagger: what did I with that?

Killed an infant to have his fat.

A piper it got at a church-ale.

I bade him again blow wind i' the taile.

7 WITCH.

A murderer, yonder, was hung in chaines;

The sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines: I bit off a sinew; I clipp'd his haire ;

I brought off his ragges, that danc'd i' the ayre.

8 WITCH.

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The scrich-owles egges and the feathers blacke,
The bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backe 30
I have been getting; and made of his skin

A purset, to keepe sir Cranion in.

9 WITCH.

And I ha' beene plucking (plants among)
Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue,
Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane;

And twise by the dogges was like to be tane.

10 WITCH.

I from the jawes of a gardiner's bitch

Did snatch these bones, and then leap'd the ditch:

Yet went I back to the house againe,

Kill'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine.

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11 WITCH.

I went to the toad, breedes under the wall,
I charmed him out, and he came at my call;
I scratch'd out the eyes of the owle before;
I tore the batts wing: what would you have more?

DAME.

Yes: I have brought, to helpe your vows,
Horned poppie, cypresse boughes,

The fig-tree wild, that growes on tombes,
And juice, that from the larch-tree comes,
The basiliskes bloud, and the vipers skin:
And now our orgies let's begin.

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XXIV.

ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW,

-alias PUCKE, alias HoвGOBLIN, in the creed of ancient superstition, was a kind of merry sprite, whose character and achievements are recorded in this ballad, and in those well-known lines of Milton's L'Allegro, which the antiquarian Peck supposes to be owing to it:

"Tells how the drudging GOBLIN swet
"To earn his creame-bowle duly set:
"When in one night, ere glimpse of morne,
"His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn
"That ten day-labourers could not end;
"Then lies him down the lubber fiend,
"And stretch'd out all the chimneys length,
"Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
"And crop-full out of doors he flings,
"Ere the first cock his matins rings."

The reader will observe that our simple ancestors had reduced all these whimsies to a kind of system, as regular, and perhaps more consistent, than many parts of classic mythology: a proof of the extensive influence and vast antiquity of these superstitions. Mankind, and especially the common people, could not every where have been so unanimously agreed concerning these arbitrary notions, if they had not prevailed among them for many ages. Indeed, a learned friend in Wales assures the Editor, that the existence of Fairies and Goblins is alluded to by the most ancient British Bards, who mention them under various names, one of the most common of which signifies "The spirits of the mountains." See also Pre- ¦ face to Song XXV.

This song, which Peck attributes to Ben Jonson (though it is not found among his works) is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy in the British Museum. It seems to have been originally intended for some Masque.

This Ballad is intitled, in the old black-letter copies, "The merry Pranks of Robin Goodfellow. To the tune of Dulcina," &c. (See No. XIII. above.)

FROM Oberon, in fairye land,

The king of ghosts and shadowes there,

Mad Robin I, at his command,

Am sent to viewe the night-sports here.

What revell rout

Is kept about,

In every corner where I

go,

5

I will o'ersee,

And merry bee,

And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!

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More swift than lightening can I flye

About this aery welkin soone,

And, in a minutes space, descrye

Each thing that's done belowe the moone,

There's not a hag

Or ghost shall wag,

Or cry, ware Goblins! where I go;

But Robin I

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Their feates will spy,

And send them home, with ho, ho, ho!

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