%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Oxfordshire Tragedy: / Or, the Virgin's Advice. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1763-1763 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/04/2011 31458

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

T43528 YOung virgins fair, of beauty bright, / And you that are of Cupid's fold: Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 750 3: 751 The Oxfordshire Tragedy: / Or, the Virgin's Advice. The Oxfordshire Tragedy: Or, The Virgin’s Advice. The Oxfordshire Tragedy: Or, The Virgin’s Advice. 1763-1763

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/4/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America advice crime infidelity love punishment sex/ sexuality virtue Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/4/2011 12:04:01 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 5/4/2011 12:04:01 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 12:04:01 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 12:04:01 PM Transcriptionist Two Megna, Paul Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 12:04:01 PM Transcriptionist One Foley, Christopher Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/3/2009 Bibliographer Meghan Fadel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/2/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/11/2009 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/1/2010 Checker Sue Hong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The <hi rend="bold">Oxfordshire</hi> Tragedy:</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Or, <hi rend="bold">The Virgins Advice.</hi></hi></seg>
PART II. YOung virgins fair, of beauty bright, And you that are of Cupids fold: Unto my tragedy give ear, For tis as true as eer was told. In Oxfordshire, a lady fair, The daughter of a worthy Knight, A gentleman that livd near, Was enamourd of this beauty bright. Rosanna was this maidens name, The flower of fair Oxfordshire; This gentleman a courting came, Begging of her to be his dear, Her kind heart to love inclind, Young Cupid bending of his bow, And left a fatal dart behind, That provd her fatal overthrow. Within a pleasant grove they walkd, And valleys where the lambs do play; Sweet pleasant tales of love they talkd, For to pass the long summers day. My charming sweet rose, said he,, See how the pleasant flowers spring; The pretty birds on every tree, With melody the groves did ring. I nothing have to please or delight My soul, but those charms of thine; Our heart are fixed, therefore my dear, Like turtles let us both combine, Let me embrace my hearts delight Within this pleasant bower here; This bank of violets for my bed, Shaded with those roses fair. She said, What do you mean, I pray? I am a noble lady born. What signifies my beauty bright, When my honour it is gone? My parents they will me disdain, And young virgins me deride, O do not prove my overthrow, If you love stay till Im your bride. Sweet angel dear, I do vow, By all the powers so divine You are she whom I adore, And in love my heart confine. And if thou dost me refuse
This sword must soon end my woe; Them from her arms he straitway flew, And in his passion his sword drew. Her hands as white as lillies fair, Most dreadfully she did wring; She said, My deaths approaching near, Should I relieve and succour him It brings on my sad fall, Tis I must receive the wound, The crimson dye forsook her cheeks, At his feet she droppd on the ground. This innocent he did betray, Full sore against her chaste desire, True love is a celestial flame, But flames of lust a raging fire, But when her senses did revive. He many vows and oaths did make, That hed for ever true remain, And her company not forsake. PART II. NOW virgins to the second part, Observe this sweet creatures end, When once your virtue it is gone, Youve nothing you to recommend. After our traitor had his will, He never did come near her more; Then from her eyes both night and day, The crystal tears did pour. In the silent grove she then Did wander quite alone; And for the creature she had lost In the said bower thus would moan. Oh that I was some little bird, That I might fly to hide this shame; O foolish maid, thus to believe The base delusion of a man. The harmless lamb could sport and play, The turtle constant to his mate; Nothing more wretched is then I, To buy the man that doth me hate, I will to him a letter send, Remembering of the vows he made Within that shady bower, where My tender heart he first betrayd. Her trembling hands a letter wrote, My dearest dear, what must I do;
Alas! what mischief have I done, That I am slighted so by you. I have slighted many lords of fame, Who little knows my misery, I did forsake a worthy knight, And all for the sake of thee. And now my little infant dear Will quickly spread abroad my shame. One word of comfort send to me Ere by thy cruelty I am slain This answer to her he did send, Your insolence amazes me, To think that I should marry one, With whom before I had been free. Indeed Ill not the father be Unto the bastard that you bear; So take no farther thoughts of me. No more from you pray let me hear. When she this letter did receive, She rung her hands and wept fullsore, Yet every day she still would range To lament within that bower. This faithless wretch began to think, How noble were her parents dear; She said I sure shall punishd be When they my story come to hear, So then the devil did begin To enter in his wretched mind; Her precious life he then must have, Then how to act the thing did find. He many times did watch her out Unto the pleasant bower, where One day he did in private go, When he knew she was not there, And privately he dug her grave Underneath an oaken tree; Then in the branches he did hide, To act this bloody tragedy, Poor harmless soul she nothing knew, But as usual she went there; And on a bank of violtes she In a mournful manner did sit down. Of his unkindness did complain, You gentle gods so kind, said she, Did you this grave for me prepare, He then descended from the tree. As she the grave did spy, She then arose to view the same: She little thought her lover there: He said, Strumpet, thy death is near. O! welcome, welcome, she replyd, As long as by that hand I die. This is a pleasant marriage-bed. Iam ready: Use your cruelty: But may the heavens bring to light This crime, and let it thus appear:
Winter or summer on this grave, May this rose be the same Never to wither, tho its cropt, But when thy hand doth touch the same, Then may the bloom that moment cease, To bring thy crime to sham. More she said, but with his sword He peicd her body thro Then throwd her body in the; silent grave Saying, Now theres end of you He filled up the grave again, With weeds the same did overspread, Then unconcernd he strait went home, And instantly he went to be d. Her parents were grieved sore For the loss of their daughter dear; Thinknig that she was stole away, Who was to their riches heir Twelve mounths ago this was done, Theres thousands for a truth do know, Accordingly as she did desire, On her the damask rose did grow. And many wondered at the same, For all the winter it did spring: If any one did crop the rose, In a moment it would grow again. The thing was told the country oer, And many came this sight to see; This miracle from heaven shewn, Among the rest he must curious be. To go and see if it was true. And when unto the place he came, The beauteous rose he saw in bloom, And eagerly he cropt the same. The leaves faded from oft the bush The rose within his hand did die: He said, It is Rosannas blood, Which springs up from her fair body. Many people that were there Took notice of what he did say: And said he had a murder done, And the truth he told without delay. They dug and found the body there, The first of June it is well known: Before a magistrate he went, And in a prison be doth mourn, Till he punishment receives, No doubt but he will have his due. Young men by this a warning take, Keep your vows whateer you do. For God doth find out many ways, Such henious crimes to bring to light; For murder is a crying sin, And hateful in his blessed sight.
Printed in Aldermary Church-yard, London.