%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Lamentable Song of the Lord WIGMORE, Governour of Warwick Castle, / And the fair Maid of Dunsmore, as a warning to all Maids to have a care, / how they yield to the wanton Delight of young Gallants. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/26/2014 33342

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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

1 Diana. UNKNOWN Diana. IN Warkshire there stands a down, / And Dunsmore-heath it hath to name Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 694 The Lamentable Song of the Lord WIGMORE, Governour of Warwick Castle, / And the fair Maid of Dunsmore, as a warning to all Maids to have a care, / how they yield to the wanton Delight of young Gallants. The Lamentable Song of the Lord WIGMORE, Governour of Warwick Castle, And the fair Maid of Dunsmore, as a warning to all Maids to have a care, how they yield to the wanton Delight of a young Gallants. The Lamentable Song of the Lord WIGMORE, Governor of Warwick Castle, And the fair Maid of Dunsmore, as a warning to all Maids to have a care, how they yield to the wanton Delight of young Gallants. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/26/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class death procreation rural life sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/26/2014 11:11:22 AM XBallad Cortes, Phillip Created XML Version of Ballad 6/26/2014 11:11:22 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2014 11:11:22 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2014 11:11:22 AM Transcriptionist Two Pedersen, Emily Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/26/2014 11:11:22 AM Transcriptionist One Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/2/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/9/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/16/2013 Checker Megan Palmer Browne Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Lamentable Song of the Lord <hi rend="bold">WIGMORE,</hi> Governour of <hi rend="bold">Warwick</hi> Castle,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And the fair Maid of <hi rend="bold">Dunsmore,</hi> as a warning to all Maids to have a care,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">how they yield to the wanton Delight of young Gallants. </hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To the Tune:</hi> Diana.</hi></seg>
IN Warkshire there stands a down, And Dunsmore-heath it hath to name And joyning to a Country town, Made famous by a Maidenr name. Fair Isabel she named was, A Shepherd's daughter as some say, To Wigmores ears her fame did pass, As he in Warwick Castle lay, Poor love-sick Lord immediately, Upon her fame set his delight, And thought much pleasure sure did lye, possessing of so fair a Wight: Therefore to Dunsmore did repair, To recreate his sickly mind, Where in a summer's evening fair, His chance was Isabel to find She sat amidst a meadow green, Most richly spread with smelling flow'rs And by a River she was seen, to spend away some evening hours; There lay this Maiden all alone, Washing her feet in secret wise; Which Virgin fair to look upon. did much delight his loving eyes. She thinking not to be espy'd, And laid from her, her Country tire, The tresses of her hair unty'd, Hung glistering like the golden wire, And as the flakes of winter snow, That lye unmelted on the plains, So white her body was in show, Like silver springs did run her veins
He ravisht with this pleasant sight, Stood as a Man amazed still, Suffering his eyes to take delight. that never thought they had their fill She blinded their affections so, That reasons rules were laid away, And love the coals of lust did blow. Which to a fire flamed high, And tho' he knew the sin was great, It burned so within his breast, With such a vehement scorching heat. That none but she could lend him rest Lord Wigmore being thus drown'd in lust By liking of this dainty Dame, He call'd a Servant of great trust. Inquiring straight what was her name, She is quoth he, no married Wife, But a Shepherd's daughter as you see, And with her Father leads her life, Whose dwellings by these pastures be, Her name is Isabel the fair, Then stay quoth he, and speak no more But to my Castle straight her bear, Her sight hath wound me full sore, Thus to Lord Wigmore she was brougt, who with delight is fancies fix, And thro' his suit such means he wrougt That he entic'd her to his bed, This being done in content, She did return from whence she came, And every day she did invent, To cover her received shame,
But e're three months were fully past, Her crime committed plain appears, Unto Lord Wigmore then in haste, She long complain'd with weeping tears Lord Wigmore thus I have defil[']d, And spotted my pure Virgin's bed, Behold I am conceiv'd with child, To which vile folly you me led, For now this deed that I have wrought, Throughout the Country well is known And to my woful Parents brought, Who now for me do make great moan, How shall I look them in the face, When they my shameless self shall see? O curse Eve I feel thy case, When thou hadst tasted on the Tree, Thou hidst thyself and so must I, But God thy trespass quickly found, No dark may hide me from God's eye. But leave my shame still to abound Wide open are mine eyes to look, Upon my sad and heavy sin, And quite unclapsed in the book. Were my Accounts are written in, This sin of mine deserveth death, But judge, Lord Wigmore I am she, For I have trod a Strumpet's path. And for the same I needs must dye, Bespotted with reproachful shame, To ages following shall I be, And in records be writ my blame, Lord Wigmore, this is long of thee, Lord Wigmore prostrate at thy feet, I crave my just deserved doom, That death may cut off from the root. This body, blossom, brench, and bloom,
Let modesty accurse this crime, Let love, and law. and nature speak, Was ever any Wretch yet seen. that in one instant all did break? Then Wigmore justice on me shew, For thus consenting to the act, Give me my death for that is due. To such as sin in such a fact, O that the womb had been my grave, Or I had perish'd in my birth, O that same day may darkness have. Wherein I first drew vital breath, Let God reguard it not at all, Let not the Sun upon it shine, Let misty darkness on it fall For to make know this sin of mine, The night wherein I was conceiv'd, Let be accurst with mournful cries, Let twinkling stars from sky be reav'd, And clouds of darkness thereon rise, Because they shut not up their powers, That gave the passage to my life, Come sorrow, finish up my hours. And let my time here end with grief And having made this woful moan, A knife she snatched from her side, There Lucretias part was righsly shown. For with the same fair Isabel dyd. Whereat Lord Wigmore grieved sore, A heart repenting his amiss, And after would attempt no more, To crop the flower of Maiden's bliss: But lived long in woful wise, Till death did finish up his days, And now in Isabels grave he lyes. till Judgment comes them both to rise.