"But who's this hairy youth?" she said ;

"He much resembles thee:

The bear devour'd my younger son,
Or sure that son were he."

"Madam, this youth with bears was bred,

And rear'd within their den.

But recollect ye any mark

To know your son agen?"

Upon his little side," quoth she, "Was stampt a bloody rose." "Here, lady, see the crimson mark Upon his body grows!"

Then clasping both her new-found sons
She bath'd their cheeks with tears;
And soon towards her brother's court
Her joyful course she steers.

What pen can paint king Pepin's joy,
His sister thus restor❜d!

And soon a messenger was sent
To chear her drooping lord:

Who came in haste with all his peers,
To fetch her home to Greece;
Where many happy years they reign'd
In perfect love and peace.

To them sir Ursine did succeed,
And long the scepter bare.
Sir Valentine he stay'd in France,
And was his uncle's heir.

THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL.

BY BISHOP CORBET.

AREWELL rewards and Fairies!

Good housewives now may say;
For now foule sluts in dairies

Doe fare as well as they :

And though they sweepe their hearths no less
Than mayds were wont to doe,

Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds sixe-pence in her shoe?

Lament, lament, old Abbies,

The fairies' lost command;

They did but change priests' babies,

But some have chang'd your

land:

And all your children stoln from thence

Are now growne Puritanes,

Who live as changelings ever since,

For love of your demaines.

At morning and at evening both

You merry were and glad;

So little care of sleepe and sloth
These prettie ladies had.

When Tom came home from labour,

Or Ciss to milking rose,

Then merrily went their tabour,

And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and roundelayes
Of theirs, which yet remaine;
Were footed in queene Marie's dayes
On many a grassy playne.
But since of late Elizabeth

And later James came in;

They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time hath bin.

By which wee note the fairies
Were of the old profession:
Their songs were Ave Maries,

Their dances were procession.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or farther for religion fled,

Or else they take their ease.

A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whoso kept not secretly

Their mirth, was punish'd sure:
It was a just and christian deed
To pinch such blacke and blue :
O how the common-welth doth need
Such justices as you!

Now they have left our quarters ;

A Register they have,

Who can preserve their charters ;

A man both wise and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks

By one that I could name

Are kept in store; con twenty thanks To William for the same.

To William Churne of Staffordshire
Give laud and praises due,

Who every meale can mend your cheare
With tales both old and true :

To William all give audience,
And pray yee for his noddle :
For all the fairies' evidence

Were lost, if it were addle.

THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF

BEDNALL GREEN.

The copy here given of this favourite popular ballad is printed from a modern broadside, 66 carefully collated" with a copy in the Bagford collection.

"Pepys, in his diary, 25th June, 1663, speaks of going with Sir William and Lady Batten, and Sir J. Minnes, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall Green, to dinner, a fine place;' and adds, 'This very house was built by the blind beggar of Bednall Green, so much talked of and sung in ballads; but they say it was only some outhouses of it.""-CHAPPELL.

HIS song's of a beggar who long lost sight, And had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright;

And many a gallant brave suitor had she, And none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was of complexion most fair,
Yet seeing she was but a beggar his heir,
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say,
"Good father and mother, let me now go away,
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be;"
This suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.

This Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,
They clad in gray russet, and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted she,
Who sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came to Stratford-a-Bow,

Then she knew not whither or which way to go;
With tears she lamented her sad destiny,
So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.