And therewithal I cut my hair,
And dress'd myself in man's attire ;
And in my beaver, hose, and band,
I travell'd far through many a land.
With a silver rapier by my side,
So like a gallant I did ride;
The thing that I delighted on,
It was to be a serving-man.
Thus in my sumptuous man's array
I bravely rode along the way;
And at the last it chanced so
That I to the king's court did go.
Then to the king I bow'd full low,
My love and duty for to show;
And so much favour I did crave,
That I a serving-man's place might have.
'Stand up, brave youth,' the king replied, 'Thy service shall not be denied ; But tell me first what thou canst do; Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.
'Wilt thou be usher of my hall,
To wait upon my nobles all ?
Or wilt thou be taster of my wine,
To wait on me when I do dine?
'Or wilt thou be my chamberlain,
To make my bed both soft and fine?
Or wilt thou be one of my guard?
And I will give thee thy reward.'
Sweet William, with a smiling face,
Said to the king, 'If't please your Grace
To show such favour unto me,
Your chamberlain I fain would be.'
The king then did the nobles call,
To ask the counsel of them all;
Who gave consent Sweet William he
The king's own chamberlain should be.
Now mark what strange thing came to pass:
As the king one day a-hunting was,
With all his lords and noble train,
Sweet William did at home remain.
Sweet William had no company then
With him at home, but an old man :
And when he saw the house was clear
He took a lute which he had there :
Upon the lute Sweet William play'd,
And to the same he sang and said,
With a sweet and noble voice,
Which made the old man to rejoice :
'My father was as brave a lord
As ever Europe did afford,
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight:
'And I myself a lady gay,
Bedeck'd with gorgeous rich array ;
The bravest lady in the land
Had not more pleasure at command.
'I had my music every day,
Harmonious lessons for to play ;
I had my virgins fair and free
Continually to wait on me.
'But now, alas ! my husband's dead,
And all my friends are from me fled;
My former joys are pass'd and gone,
For I am now a serving-man.'
At last the king from hunting came,
And presently, upon the same,
He called for this good old man,
And thus to speak the king began:
'What news, what news, old man?' quoth he;
'What news hast thou to tell to me?'
'Brave news,' the old man he did say. 'Sweet William is a lady gay.'
'If this be true thou tell'st to me,
I'll make thee lord of high degree ;
But if thy words do prove a lie,
Thou shalt be hang'd up presently.'
But when the king the truth had found,
His joys did more and more abound:
According as the old man did say,
Sweet William was a lady gay.
Therefore the king without delay
Put on her glorious rich array,
And upon her head a crown of gold
Which was most famous to behold.
And then, for fear of further strife,
He took Sweet William for his wife :
The like before was never seen,
A serving-man to be a queen.
It chanced upon a winter's day,
But warm, and bright, and calm as May, The birds, conceiving a design
To forestall sweet St. Valentine,
In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembled on affairs of love,
And with much twitter and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.
At length a Bullfinch, who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opening wide his beak,
A moment's liberty to speak;
And, silence publicly enjoin'd,
Deliver'd briefly thus his mind :
'My friends! be cautious how ye treat
The subject upon which we meet ;
I fear we shall have winter yet.'
A finch, whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wing and satin poll,
A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What pairing means, thus pert replied:
Methinks the gentleman,' quoth she,
'Opposite, in the apple-tree,
By his good will would keep us single
Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Or (which is likelier to befall)
Till death exterminate us all.
I couple without more ado;
My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?'
Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling Turning short round, strutting, and sidling, Attested glad his approbation
Of an immediate conjugation.
Their sentiments so well express'd
Influenced mightily the rest;
All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.
But though the birds were thus in haste,
The leaves came on not quite so fast,
And Destiny, that sometimes bears
An aspect stern on man's affairs,
Not altogether smiled on theirs.
The wind, of late breath'd gently forth,
Now shifted east, and east by north;
Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know,
Could shelter them from rain and snow,
Stepping into their nests, they paddled,
Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled.
Soon every father bird and mother
Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other.
Parted without the least regret,
Except that they had ever met,
And learn'd in future to be wiser
Than to neglect a good adviser.
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