If I do break my Vow, quoth fhe,
While I remain alive,
May never thing I take in hand,
Be seen at all to thrive.
This passed on for two Month's fpace,
And then this Maid began
To settle Love and liking too
Upon another Man :
Ferman, who a Widower was,
Her Husband needs must be,
Because he was of greater Wealth,
And better in Degree.
Her vows and Promise lately made
To Bateman she deny'd ;
And in Defpight both him and his,
She utterly defy'd,
Well then, quoth he, if it be so,
That you will me forfake,
And like a falfe and forfworn Wretch
Another Husband take,
Thou shalt not live one quiet Hour,
For, furely I fhall have
Thee either alive or Dead
When for thy fake in Grave.
Thy faithlefs Mind thou fhalt repent
Therefore be thou affured,
Then for thy fake thou hear'ft Report,
What torments I endur'd.
But mark how Bateman, dy'd for Love,
And finished his Life,
That very Day fhe marry'd was,
And made old Ferman's Wife,
For with a strangling Cord, God wot,
Great Moan was made therefore,
He hang'd himself in defperate Sort,
Before the Bride's own Door.
Whereat fuch Sorrow pierc'd her Heart,
And troubled fore her Mind,
That she could never after that
One Day of Comfort find;
And wherefoever she did go,
Her Fancy did furmife,
Young Bateman's pale and ghaftly Ghoft
Appear'd before her Eyes.
When she in Bed at Night did lye
Betwixt her Husband's Arms, In hope thereby to fleep and reft, In Safety without Harms;
Great Cries and grievous Groans she heard
A Voice that fometimes cry'd,
O thou art she that I must have,
I will not be deny'd.
But the now being big with Child,
Was for the Infant's fake,
Preferved from the Spirit's Power,
No Vengeance could it take.
The Babe unborn did fafely keep,
As God appointed fo,
His Mother's Body from the Fiend,
That fought its Overthrow.
But being of her Burthen eas'd,
And fafely brought to Bed,
Her Care and Grief began anew,
And farther Sorrow bred :
And of her Friends fhe did intreat,
Defiring them to stay,
Out of the Bed, quoth fhe, this Night
I fhall be borne away.
Here comes the Spirit of my Love,
With pale and ghaftly Face,
Who till he bear me hence away,
Will not depart this place.
Alive or Dead I'm his by Right,
And furely he will have,
In spight of me and all the World,
What I by Promise gave.
O watch with me this Night I pray,
And fee you do not fleep,
No longer than you keep awake,
My Body can you keep.
All promised to do their best,
Yet nothing could fuffice,
At middle of the Night to keep,
Sad Slumber from their Eyes.
So being all full fast asleep,
To them unknown which way,
The Child-Bed Woman that woeful Night
From thence was borne away;
And to what Place no Creature knew,
Nor to this Day can tell;
As ftrange a Thing as ever yet
In any Age befel.
You Maidens that would happy prove,
And would good Husbands chufe,
The Man whom you did vow to love,
By no means do refuse.
For God that hears all fecret Oaths,
Will dreadful Vengeance take,
On fuch that of a wilful Vow
Do flender Reckoning make.
XXXVIII. The Suffolk Miracle: Or, A Relation of a Young Man, who a Month after his Death appear'd to his Sweetheart, and carry'd her on Horseback behind him for forty Miles in two Hours, and was never seen after but in his Grave.
To the Tune of, My Bleeding Heart, &c.
Wonder ftranger n'er was known
Than what I now fhall treat upon,
In Suffolk there did lately dwell,
A Farmer rich, and known full well.
He had a Daughter fair and bright,
On whom he placed his whole Delight;
Her Beauty was beyond compare,
She was both Virtuous and Fair,
There was a young Man living by,
Who was fo charmed with her Eye,
That he could never be at reft.
He was by Love fo much possest :
He made Addrefs to her, and the,
Did grant him Love immediately;
But when her Father came to hear,
He parted her, and her poor Dear:
Forty Miles diftant was fhe fent,
Unto his Brother's, with Intent
That she should there fo long remain,
Till fhe had chang'd her Mind again.
Hereat this Young Man fadly griev'd,
But knew not how to be reliev'd;
He figh'd and fob'd continually,
That his true Love he could not fee.
She by no Means could to him send,
Who was her Heart's efpoufed Friend;
He figh'd, he griev'd, but all in vain,
For the confin'd must still remain.
He mourn'd fo much, that Doctor's Art
Could give no Eafe unto his Heart,
Who was so strangely terrified,
That in short time for Love he dy'd.
She that from him was fent away,
Knew nothing of his Dying-day,
But constant still she did remain,
And lov'd the Dead, altho' in vain.
After he had in Grave been laid
A Month or more, unto this Maid
He came in middle of the Night,
Who joy'd to see her Heart's Delight.
Her Father's Horfe, which well she knew,
Her Mother's Hood and Safe-Guard too,
He brought with him, to testify,
Her Parents Order he came by.
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