Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England | Page 9

know thy office, and thy trade is such,?Thy service little, and thy gains are much:?Thy brags are many; but 'tis vain to swagger,?And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger:?AS I ABHOR THY PERSON, PLACE, AND THREAT,?So now I'll bring thee to the judgment-seat.
EXCISEMAN.
The judgment-seat! I must confess that word?Doth cut my heart, like any sharpened sword:?What! come t' account! methinks the dreadful sound?Of every word doth make a mortal wound,?Which sticks not only in my outward skin,?But penetrates my very soul within.?'Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death?Would once attempt to stop excisemen's breath.?But since 'tis so, that now I do perceive?You are in earnest, then I must relieve?Myself another way: come, we'll be friends;?If I have wronged thee, I'll make th' amends.?Let's join together; I'll pass my word this night?Shall yield us grub, before the morning light.?Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow),?Stay here, I'll bring you gold enough to-morrow.
DEATH.
To-morrow's gold I will not have; and thou?Shalt have no gold upon to-morrow: now?My final writ shall to th' execution have thee,?All earthly treasure cannot help or save thee.
EXCISEMAN.
Then woe is me! ah! how was I befooled!?I thought that gold (which answereth all things) could?Have stood my friend at any time to bail me!?But grief grows great, and now my trust doth fail me.?Oh! that my conscience were but clear within,?Which now is racked with my former sin;?With horror I behold my secret stealing,?My bribes, oppression, and my graceless dealing;?My office-sins, which I had clean forgotten,?Will gnaw my soul when all my bones are rotten:?I must confess it, very grief doth force me,?Dead or alive, both God and man doth curse me.?LET ALL EXCISEMEN hereby warning take,?To shun their practice for their conscience sake.
Poem: THE MESSENGER OF MORTALITY; OR LIFE AND DEATH CONTRASTED IN A DIALOGUE BETWIXT DEATH AND A LADY.
[One of Charles Lamb's most beautiful and plaintive poems was suggested by this old dialogue. The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, p. 167. In Carey's Musical Century, 1738, it is called the 'Old tune of Death and the Lady.' The four concluding lines of the present copy of Death and the Lady are found inscribed on tomb-stones in village church-yards in every part of England. They are not contained, however, in the broadside with which our reprint has been carefully collated.]
DEATH.
Fair lady, lay your costly robes aside,?No longer may you glory in your pride;?Take leave of all your carnal vain delight,?I'm come to summon you away this night!
LADY.
What bold attempt is this? pray let me know?From whence you come, and whither I must go??Must I, who am a lady, stoop or bow?To such a pale-faced visage? Who art thou?
DEATH.
Do you not know me? well! I tell thee, then,?It's I that conquer all the sons of men!?No pitch of honour from my dart is free;?My name is Death! have you not heard of me?
LADY.
Yes! I have heard of thee time after time,?But being in the glory of my prime,?I did not think you would have called so soon.?Why must my morning sun go down at noon?
DEATH.
Talk not of noon! you may as well be mute;?This is no time at all for to dispute:?Your riches, garments, gold, and jewels brave,?Houses and lands must all new owners have;?Though thy vain heart to riches was inclined,?Yet thou must die and leave them all behind.
LADY.
My heart is cold; I tremble at the news;?There's bags of gold, if thou wilt me excuse,?And seize on them, and finish thou the strife?Of those that are aweary of their life.?Are there not many bound in prison strong,?In bitter grief of soul have languished long,?Who could but find the grave a place of rest,?From all the grief in which they are oppressed??Besides, there's many with a hoary head,?And palsy joints, by which their joys are fled;?Release thou them whose sorrows are so great,?But spare my life to have a longer date.
DEATH.
Though some by age be full of grief and pain,?Yet their appointed time they must remain:?I come to none before their warrant's sealed,?And when it is, they must submit and yield.?I take no bribe, believe me, this is true;?Prepare yourself to go; I'm come for you.
LADY.
Death, be not so severe, let me obtain?A little longer time to live and reign!?Fain would I stay if thou my life will spare;?I have a daughter beautiful and fair,?I'd live to see her wed whom I adore:?Grant me but this and I will ask no more.
DEATH.
This is a slender frivolous excuse;?I have you fast, and will not let you loose;?Leave her to Providence, for you must go?Along with me, whether you will or no;?I, Death, command the King to leave his crown,?And at my feet he lays his sceptre down!?Then if to kings I don't this favour give,?But cut them off, can you expect to live?Beyond the limits of