THE MILK-MAID'S SONG 



seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead 

 voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that 

 primrose-hill ; there I sat viewing the silver streams glide 

 silently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea ; yet some- 

 times opposed by rugged roots, and pebble-stones, which broke 

 their waves, and turned them into foam : and sometimes I 

 beguiled time by viewing the harmless lambs, some leaping 

 securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported themselves in 

 the cheerful sun ; and saw others craving comfort from the 

 swollen udders of their bleating dams. As I thus sat, these 

 and other sights had so fully possessed my soul with content, 

 that I thought as the Poet has happily expressed it ; 



I was for that time lifted above earth ; 

 And possess'd joys not promis'd in my birth. 



As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second 

 pleasure entertained me ; 'twas a handsome Milk-maid that 

 had not yet attained so much age and wisdom as to load her 

 mind with any fears of many things that will never be, as too 

 many men too often do ; but she cast away all care, and sung 

 like a nightingale : her voice was good, and the ditty fitted for 

 it; 'twas that smooth song, which was made by Kit. Marlow, 

 now at least fifty years ago : and the Milk-maid's mother sung 

 an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in 

 his younger days. 



They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good, I think 

 much better than the strong lines that are now in fashion in 

 this critical age. Look yonder ! on my word, yonder they both 

 be a-milking again. I will give her the Chub, and persuade 

 them to sing those two songs to us. 



God speed you, good woman ! I have been a-fishing, and 

 am going to Bleak-Hall to my bed, and having caught more 

 fish than will sup myself and my friend, I will bestow this upon 

 you and your daughter, for I use to sell none. 



MILK-W. Marry God requite you, Sir, and we '11 eat it 

 cheerfully ; and if you come this way a-fishing two months 

 hence, a grace of God I '11 give you a syllabub of new verjuice 

 in a new-made hay-cock for it, and my Maudlin shall sing 

 you one of her best ballads ; for she and I both love all 

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