%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Wandering SHEPHERDESS 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 03/18/2016 35456

The University of California makes a claim of copyright only to original contributions made by Early Modern Center participants and other members of the university community. The University of California makes no claim of copyright to the original text. Permission is granted to download, transmit or otherwise reproduce, distribute or display the contributions to this work claimed by The University of California for non-profit educational purposes, provided that this header is included in its entirety. For inquiries about commercial uses, please contact:

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

T215203 YOU that do know what to true love belong. / I'll tell you a story that lately was done: Houghton Library Hazlitt EC65 Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 27 1: 28 The Wandering SHEPHERDESS The Wandering SHEPHERDESS The Wandering SHEPHERDESS ?-?

This document follows the guidelines specified for TEI.

XML Generated Automatically at 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM Using EMC

XBallad Parsing Engine developed by Carl G Stahmer.

TEI Template developed by Gerald Egan and Modified by Carl Stahmer

All apostrophes are encoded as '.

Any dashs occurring in line breaks have been removed;

All dashs are encoded as ‐ and all em dashes as —.

 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 3/18/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health death family infidelity love violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM XBallad King, Joyce Created XML Version of Ballad 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM Transcriptionist Two Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/18/2016 7:12:24 PM Transcriptionist One Levinson-Emley, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/9/2016 Checker Katie Adkison Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/26/2015 Checker Rachel LevinsonEmley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/17/2015 Bibliographer Rachel LevinsonEmley Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/25/2015 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Wandering SHEPHERDESS</hi></seg>
YOU that do know what to true love belong. I'll tell you a story that lately was done: At Oxford a merchant's fair daughter did dwell, Who for wit and beauty did others excel. A noble young 'squire that lived hard by, Upon this young lady did soon cast an eye; And for to court her he thus did begin: Thou fairest of creatures that ever was seen. Do not be so cruel but yield unto me, For without your love there's no comfort for me. And now give consent for to be my bride, Or else I am ruin'd forever, he cry'd. The lady with innoeent smiles did reply, 'Tis pity so god-like a creature should die, When 'tis in my power your life to save, So now [I] grant the this that you crave. With eager embraces he flew to her arms, And said, Thou hast ten thousand charms, Which invite great monarch's to fall at your feet; But I've got the prize, and my joys I'll complete. First ask my fathers consent she did say, For I must ever his pleasure obey: Her honoured parents I mean to please, For fear the Heavens be with us displeas'd. Then strait to her father the '[s]quire did go, And the whole matter he gave him to know. Her father was pleased he should be his son, And said, [i]f she loves him it soon shall be done. All things were agreed on, the time was set. And now as soon as this couple was met,
This perjured villain the innocent fair He with false delusions began to ensnare. With modesty she unto him did say, Sir, do not my honour thus strive to betray. This is not true love, but lust you do mean. Better had it been if I ne'er had you seen. It will not be long e'er I shall be your bride; Then seek not my ruin, she to him reply'd. O talk not of ruin, thou pride of my life, May heaven forsake me if thou'rt not my wife. With many persuasions his will he obtain'd, And then her bright person, he soon disdain'd; For strait up to London this villain did come, Leaving his jewel in sorrow to mourn. Her parents wonder'd the 'squire ne'er came, Asking their daughter the cause ot the same. She said, Honour'd father, the cause I don't know, But men they are fiekle, and so let him go[.] Tho' she to her parents did not seem surpriz'd, When she was alone, the tears from her eyes Like fountains would run; crying, Worst of men, For your sake I will trust no man again. But I will wander thro' vallies and groves, Be witness, Heaven, how false is my love! And still I must love him do all that I can. I must be a slave unto this purjur'd man. Rich jewels and treasure she did provide, Saying, now I will wander whatever betide; And if my troubled heart does find any rest, To live in a cottage I'd think myself blest.
So then from her parents away she did go Poor soul! with a heart full of sorrow and woe, Thro' lonesome fields and woods she did hie, Then she a small cottage at length did espy. It was a poor shepherd that in it did dwell, Seeing the lady set down in his cell, He welcom'd her in, and said, Sweet lady fair, Pray what cruel fortune has driven you here? Then into his cottage the lady did go, His wife unto her great kindness did shew. When she with the shepherd some time had been, Her riches and jewels she gave unto them. And said, O this matter let no one know; And to keep the sheep in the vallies I'll go. The Wandering Shepherdess you can me call. Unfortunate love is the cause of my fall. A rich suit of green embroider'd ware, With a garland of flowers had this lady fair, To shade of the Sun from her beauty clear, To her sheep in the vallies she did repair. When two long years were finish'd and gone, The 'squire to Oxford strait did return. Her parents, accus'd him of wronging their chiid. He said, She was fickle and false as the wind. But now, Said her father, I fear she is dead, So we can add nothing to what we have said. But sure she was honest and virtuous to all, And you are the man that caused her fall. Now we will leave her parents to mourn, And unto the Shepherdess let us return. Who was the talk of folks far and near. At length her lover the same came to hear. He must see this beauty whatever betide. Then he got his coach, and away he did ride; And just as bright Phoebus was going down, He came to the valley where she lay alone. The lambs were sporting an innocent sort, And she was pleased with their harmless sport. Her fine silver hair sweet breezes did wave, On a bank of sweet lillies she carelessly laid. O Gods? said the squire, sure she's divine, But if she is mortal, oh? let her be mine. He little thought it was his love so true, Men so much admire each Beauty they view. The charming Shepherdess turning her eyes, Soon did know him to her great surprize. But yet who she was he did not know, At length to her cottage she homeward did go. He followed her home, saying, Sweet fair, Pity a lover that is in despair; For by the glance of your charming eyes. My love-sick heart is fill'd with surprize.
Sir, you seem a person of high degree, And I a poor shepherdess now as you see, Talk not, sweet creature, thy charms are so sweet, Will cause the great monarch to fall at thy feet. The shepherdess then invited him in, But now afresh her sorrows do begin: The garland of flowers being took from her head, He knew 'twas his love he thought had been dead His love-sick heat he soon did abate, But he unto her no notice did take: Quoth he to himself, since it is thee, I 'ere to-morrow your butcher will be. They parted that night the next morning to mee[t] In the sweet pasture where she kept the sheep, And the next morning just as the sun rose, This perjured wretch to the sheperdess goes. No one being there, he unto her did say, Come madam, and strip off that gaudy array; As I'm come so far an harlot to see, I am resolved your butcher to be. Can'st thou be so cruel to him she did say My innocent life thus to take away? What harm my dear jewel, have I done to thee, The crime it was yours in deluding of me. Vile strumpet, dost thou presume for to prate, Come yield to my sword, for no longer I'll wait: She to him for mercy did bitterly cry, But he hard-hearted wretch had no mercy. But finding with him she could not prevail, O heaven! said she, since all flesh is frail, Pardon my crimes, which are many she cries, Now traitor I'm ready for your sacrifice. She open'd her breast far whiter than snow, He pierced her heart whilst the crimson did flow; Her body he threw in a river near, And thus dy'd the beauty of fair Oxfordshire. Then home he returned, and when he came ther He wandered about like a man in despair; No rest night nor day he ever cou'd find, The sweet shepherdess ran so in his mind. Within four days he took to his bed, The doctor gave him over, it is said, When he found his dying hour was come, He sent for her father, and told what was done. Then in a sad sort he yielded up his breath, Her father said I'm the unhappiest man on earth. Then he sought the body of his daughter dear, Who in sumptuous manner was bury'd, we hear Within a little time her father did die, Now let each take warning by this tragedy; And maidens beware of mens flattering tongue For if you consent you are surely undone.