The book of British ballads . f^etw of % All this my boding mind misgave,I therefore left this trustye friend : Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,And all thy shame and sorrowes end. Sorely shent wi this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heire of Linne;His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne,Never a word he spake but three : This is a trustye friend indeed,And is right welcome unto me. Then round his necke the corde he drewe,And sprang aloft with his bodie ; When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine,And to the ground cam
The book of British ballads . f^etw of % All this my boding mind misgave,I therefore left this trustye friend : Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,And all thy shame and sorrowes end. Sorely shent wi this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heire of Linne;His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne,Never a word he spake but three : This is a trustye friend indeed,And is right welcome unto me. Then round his necke the corde he drewe,And sprang aloft with his bodie ; When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine,And to the ground came tumbling he. Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, Ne knewe if he were live or dead : At length he looked, and sawe a bille,And in it a key of golde so redd. Hee took the bille, and lookt it on,Strait good comfort found he there : It told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere. Two were full of the beaten golde,The third was full of white money , And over them in broad letters These words were written soe plaine to
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow
