Wheras her sister in short while
Writt to him to his vile disgrace;

In speeches bitter to his mind.
Shee told him plaine he was unkind.

'False-harted wretch,' quoth shee, thou art; 85 And traiterouslye thou hast betraid

Unto thy lure a gentle hart,

Which unto thee much welcome made;

My sister deare, and Carthage' joy,

Whose folly bred her deere annoy.

Yett on her death-bed when shee lay,
Shee prayd for thy prosperitye,
Beseeching god, that every day

Might breed thy great felicitye:

Thus by thy meanes I lost a friend;
Heavens send thee such untimely end.'

When he these lines, full fraught with gall,
Perused had, and wayed them right,

His lofty courage then did fall;

And straight appeared in his sight Queene Dido's ghost, both grim and pale; Which made this valliant souldier quaile.

Eneas,' quoth this ghastly ghost,

My whole delight when I did live,

Thee of all men I loved most;

My fancy and my will did give;
For entertainment I thee gave,
Unthankefully thou didst me grave.

Therfore prepare thy flitting soule
To wander with me in the aire;

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Where deadlye griefe shall make it howle,
Because of me thou tookst no care:

Delay not time, thy glasse is run,

Thy date is past, thy life is done.'

'O stay a while, thou lovely sprite,
Be not soe hasty to convay
My soule into eternall night,

Where itt shall ne're behold bright day.

O doe not frowne; thy angry looke
Hath [all my soule with horror shooke.]

But, woe is me! all is in vaine,

And bootless is my dismall crye;
Time will not be recalled againe,

Nor thou surcease before I dye.
O lett me live, and make amends
To some of thy most deerest friends.

But seeing thou obdurate art,
And wilt no pittye on me show,
Because from thee I did depart,

And left unpaid what I did owe:
I must content myselfe to take
What lott to me thou wilt partake.'

And thus, as one being in a trance,
A multitude of uglye feinds
About this woffull prince did dance;

He had no helpe of any friends:

His body then they tooke away,
And no man knew his dying day.

Ver. 120, MS. Hath made my breath my life forsooke.

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XXIII.

THE WITCHES' SONG.1

From Ben Jonson's 'Masque of Queens' presented at Whitehall, Feb. 2,

1609.

The Editor thought it incumbent on him to insert some old pieces on the popular superstition concerning witches, hobgoblins, fairies, and ghosts. The last of these make their appearance in most of the tragical ballads; and in the following songs will be found some description of the former.

It is true, this song of the Witches, falling from the learned pen of Ben Jonson, is rather an extract from the various incantations of classical antiquity, than a display of the opinions of our own vulgar. But let it be observed, that a parcel of learned wiseacres had just before busied themselves on this subject, in compliment to K. James I. whose weakness on this head is well-known: and these had so ransacked all writers, ancient and modern, and so blended and kneaded together the several superstitions of different times and nations, that those of genuine English growth could no longer be traced out and distinguished.

By good luck the whimsical belief of fairies and goblins could furnish no pretences for torturing our fellow-creatures, and therefore we have this handed down to us pure and unsophisticated.

1 WITCH.

I HAVE been all day looking after

A raven feeding upon a quarter;

And, soone as she turn'd her beak to the south,

I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth.

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;

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1 Our readers will not fail to notice the resemblance between the above and

the incantation in Macbeth and Burns''haly table.'-ED.

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,
And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose.

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.

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 keep 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.

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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