12 



He spoke, when, bursting from a cloud, 

 A phantom in a silver shroud 



Forewarned him of his end. 

 It cried out, ' Ball, thou'rt quite undone, 

 And, as thy loving master's gone, 



A fav'rite has no friend.' 



Ah ! presage sad, 'twas but too true — 

 For see, the ruthless Jack's in view — 



Behold his bloody knife ! 

 The fatal sisters gave the word, 

 Which Jack observ'd with fell accord, 



And clos'd the Book of Life. 



Ungrateful man ! is this the need 

 That's due to each old gen'rous steed 



For ev'ry kind relief? 

 Was it for this that heaven gave 

 Each brute to thee to be thy slave 



When thou'rt of brutes the chief.t 



+ I owe this curious old poem to the kindness of Mr. Rolleston, of 

 Watnall. who found it among some family papers. The individuals mentioned 

 in it I take to have been Sir Robf.rt Burdett, of Foremark, who died in 

 1797 ; Francis Noel Clarke Mundt, Esq., of Markeaton, who married Sir 

 Robert's daughter, Elizabeth, and kept a pack of hounds in Derbyshire within 

 the memory of persons still living; and James Shuttlhworth, EsQ.,of Gaw- 

 thorp, M.P., who married Mary, the daughter and heiress of Robert Holden, 

 Esq., of Aston, the scene of the song. I should imagine "honest Ball" to have 

 been the property of the Rev. John Rolleston, who was for forty years Rector of 

 Aston, and married Dorothy, the youngest daughter of Sir Robert Burdett, 

 and died 1770. 



