Whilst you shall see your cottage rise,
And grow a church before your eyes.'
They scarce had spoke when fair and soft
The roof began to mount aloft,
Aloft rose every beam and rafter,
The heavy wall climb'd slowly after;
The chimney widen'd and grew higher,
Became a steeple with a spire.
The kettle to the top was hoist,
And there stood fasten'd to a joist ;
Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack which had almost
Lost by disuse the art to roast,
A sudden alteration feels,
Increas'd by new intestine wheels;
The jack and chimney, near allied,
Had never left each other's side:
The chimney to a steeple grown,
The jack would not be left alone;
But up against the steeple rear'd,
Became a clock, and still adhered.
The groaning chair began to crawl,
Like a huge snail, along the wall;
There stuck aloft in public view,
And with small change a pulpit grew.
The cottage, by such feats as these,
Grown to a church by just degrees,
The hermits then desired the host
To ask for what he fancied most.
Philemon, having paus'd awhile,
Return'd them thanks in homely style:
'I'm old, and fain would live at ease;
Make me the parson, if you please.'
Thus happy in their change of life
Were several years this man and wife.
When on a day, which prov'd their last,
Discoursing on old stories past,
They went by chance, amidst their talk,
To the churchyard to take a walk;
When Baucis hastily cried out,
'My dear, I see your forehead sprout!'
'Sprout!' quoth the man; 'what's this you tell us?
I hope you don't believe me jealous!
But yet, methinks, I feel it true;
And really yours is budding too-
Nay, now I cannot stir my foot;
It feels as if 'twere taking root.'
Description would but tire my muse ;
In short, they both were turn'd to yews.
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong;
Come not near our fairy queen.
Philomel with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh!
So good-night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here ;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence;
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh!
So good-night, with lullaby.
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ELLINOR
Lord Thomas he was a bold forester,
And a chaser of the king's deer;
Fair Ellinor was a fine woman,
And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.
'Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,' he said,
'And riddle us both as one;
Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,
And let the brown girl alone?'
'The brown girl she has got houses and land,
And fair Ellinor she has got none;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
Bring me the brown girl home.'
As it befell on a high holiday,
As many more did beside,
Lord Thomas he went to fair Ellinor,
That should have been his bride.
But when he came to fair Ellinor's bower,
He knocked there at the ring;
But who was so ready as fair Ellinor
For to let Lord Thomas in.
'What news, what news, Lord Thomas?' she said,
'What news hast thou brought unto me?'
'I am come to bid thee to my wedding, And that is bad news for thee.'
'O, God forbid, Lord Thomas,' she said,
'That such a thing should be done.
I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
And you to have been the bridegroom.'
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,' she said,
'And riddle it all in one;
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or whether I shall tarry at home?'
'There are many that are your friends, daughter, And many that are your foe;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go.'
'There's many that are my friends, mother
And if a thousand more were my foe,
Betide my life, betide my death,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.'
She clothed herself in gallant attire,
And her merry men all in green;
And as they rid through every town,
They took her to be some queen.
But when she came to Lord Thomas's gate,
She knocked there at the ring;
But who was so ready as Lord Thomas,
To let fair Ellinor in.
'Is this your bride ?' fair Ellinor said;
'Methinks she looks wonderful brown;
Thou might'st have had as fair a woman,
As ever trod on the ground.'
'Despise her not, fair Ellin,' he said,
'Despise her not unto me;
For better I love thy little finger,
Than all her whole body.'
This brown bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharp,
And betwixt the short ribs and the long,
Prick'd fair Ellinor to the heart.
'Now Heaven save thee,' Lord Thomas he said, 'Methinks thou look'st wondrous wan: Thou used to look with as fresh a colour, As ever the sun shined on.'
'O, art thou blind, Lord Thomas?' she said,
Or canst thou not very well see?
O, dost thou not see my own heart's blood
Run trickling down my knee?'
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