Anonymous British

Gentle Herdsman, Tell to Me. Dialogue Between a Pilgrim and Herdsman

Gentle heardsman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way. "Unto the towne of Walsingham The way is hard for to be gon; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone. " Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never soe ill, Itt were not enough for mine offence, Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. "Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, For to committ so great a sinne. " Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr; I am a woman, woe is me! Born to greeffe and irksome care. For my beloved, and well-beloved, My wayward cruelty could kill: And though my teares will nought avail, Most dearely I bewail him still. He was the flower of noble wights, None ever more sinc ere colde bee; Of comely mien and shape hee was, And tenderlye hee loved mee. When thus I saw he lov ed me well, I grewe so proud his pa ine to see, That I, who did not know myselfe, Thought scorne of such a youth as hee. And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. Thus being wearyed with delayes To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe. And for his sake these weeds I weare, And sacriffice my tender age; And every day Ile begg my bread, To undergoe this pilgrimage. Thus every day I fast and pray, And ever will doe till I dye; And gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I. Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more, But keepe my secrets I thee pray: Unto the towne of Walsingam Show me the right and readye way. "Now goe thy wayes, and God before! For he must ever guide thee still: Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare the well!" Quoted from Percy's Reliques, 'The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of the Virgo Parathalasia, in his Colloquy, entitled, Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo. He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shown him, were incredible, there being scarcely a person of any note in England but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present, to Our Lady of Walsingham. At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of commissioners, who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery. This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. , which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics. '