More English Fairy Tales - Jacobs Joseph - Страница 20

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A Son of Adam

A man was one day working. It was very hot, and he was digging. By-and-by he stopped to rest and wipe his face; and he was very angry to think he had to work so hard only because of Adam’s sin. So he complained bitterly, and said some very hard words about Adam.

It happened that his master heard him, and he asked, “Why do you blame Adam? You’d ha’ done just like Adam, if you’d a-been in his place.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” said the man; “I should ha’ know’d better.”

“Well, I’ll try you,” says his master; “come to me at dinner-time.”

So come dinner-time, the man came, and his master took him into a room where the table was a-set with good things of all sorts. And he said: “Now, you can eat as much as ever you like from any of the dishes on the table; but don’t touch the covered dish in the middle till I come back.” And with that the master went out of the room and left the man there all by himself.

So the man sat down and helped himself, and ate some o’ this dish and some o’ that, and enjoyed himself finely. But after awhile, as his master didn’t come back, he began to look at the covered dish, and to wonder whatever was in it. And he wondered more and more, and he says to himself, “It must be something very nice. Why shouldn’t I just look at it? I won’t touch it. There can’t be any harm in just peeping.” So at last he could hold back no longer, and he lifted up the cover a tiny bit; but he couldn’t see anything. Then he lifted it up a bit more, and out popped a mouse. The man tried to catch it; but it ran away and jumped off the table and he ran after it. It ran first into one corner, and then, just as he thought he’d got it, into another, and under the table, and all about the room. And the man made such a clatter, jumping and banging and running round after the mouse, a-trying to catch it, that at last his master came in.

“Ah!” he said; “never you blame Adam again, my man!”

The Children in the Wood

Now ponder well, you parents dear,These words which I shall write;A doleful story you shall hear,In time brought forth to light.A gentleman of good account,In Norfolk dwelt of late,Who did in honour far surmountMost men of his estate.Sore sick he was and like to die,No help his life could save;His wife by him as sick did lie,And both possest one grave.No love between these two was lost,Each was to other kind;In love they lived, in love they died,And left two babes behind.The one a fine and pretty boyNot passing three years old,The other a girl more young than he,And framed in beauty’s mould.The father left his little son,As plainly did appear,When he to perfect age should come,Three hundred pounds a year;And to his little daughter JaneFive hundred pounds in gold,To be paid down on marriage-day,Which might not be controlled.But if the children chanced to dieEre they to age should come,Their uncle should possess their wealth;For so the will did run.“Now, brother,” said the dying man,“Look to my children dear;Be good unto my boy and girl,No friends else have they here;To God and you I recommendMy children dear this day;But little while be sure we haveWithin this world to stay.”“You must be father and mother both,And uncle, all in one;God knows what will become of themWhen I am dead and gone.”With that bespake their mother dear:“O brother kind,” quoth she,“You are the man must bring our babesTo wealth or misery.”“And if you keep them carefully,Then God will you reward;But if you otherwise should deal,God will your deeds regard.”With lips as cold as any stone,They kissed their children small:“God bless you both, my children dear!”With that the tears did fall.These speeches then their brother spakeTo this sick couple there:“The keeping of your little ones,Sweet sister, do not fear;God never prosper me nor mine,Nor aught else that I have,If I do wrong your children dearWhen you are laid in grave!”The parents being dead and gone,The children home he takes,And brings them straight unto his houseWhere much of them he makes.He had not kept these pretty babesA twelvemonth and a day,But, for their wealth, he did deviseTo make them both away.He bargained with two ruffians strong,Which were of furious mood,That they should take these children young,And slay them in a wood.He told his wife an artful taleHe would the children sendTo be brought up in London townWith one that was his friend. Away then went those pretty babes... Away then went those pretty babes,Rejoicing at that tide,Rejoicing with a merry mindThey should on cock-horse ride.They prate and prattle pleasantly,As they ride on the way,To those that should their butchers beAnd work their lives’ decay:So that the pretty speech they hadMade Murder’s heart relent;And they that undertook the deedFull sore now did repent.Yet one of them, more hard of heart,Did vow to do his charge,Because the wretch that hired himHad paid him very large.The other won’t agree thereto,So there they fall to strife;With one another they did fightAbout the children’s life;And he that was of mildest moodDid slay the other there,Within an unfrequented wood;The babes did quake for fear!He took the children by the hand,Tears standing in their eye,And bade them straightway follow him,And look they did not cry;And two long miles he led them on,While they for food complain:“Stay here,” quoth he, “I’ll bring you bread,When I come back again.”These pretty babes, with hand in hand,Went wandering up and down;But never more could see the manApproaching from the town.Their pretty lips with blackberriesWere all besmeared and dyed;And when they saw the darksome night,They sat them down and cried.Thus wandered these poor innocents,Till death did end their grief;In one another’s arms they died,As wanting due relief:No burial this pretty pairFrom any man receives,Till Robin Redbreast piouslyDid cover them with leaves.And now the heavy wrath of GodUpon their uncle fell;Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,His conscience felt an hell:His barns were fired, his goods consumed,His lands were barren made,His cattle died within the field,And nothing with him stayed.And in a voyage to PortugalTwo of his sons did die;And to conclude, himself was broughtTo want and misery:He pawned and mortgaged all his landEre seven years came about.And now at last this wicked actDid by this means come out,The fellow that did take in handThese children for to kill,Was for a robbery judged to die,Such was God’s blessed will:Who did confess the very truth,As here hath been displayed:The uncle having died in jail,Where he for debt was laid.You that executors be made,And overseers eke,Of children that be fatherless,And infants mild and meek,Take you example by this thing,And yield to each his right,Lest God with suchlike miseryYour wicked minds requite.