Jacques’ Threat.

There is a pleasaunce walled all round,1
With choice and tender flowers therein ;2
High birth is passport to the ground,3
But tread of common feet is sin.4
My Lord hath power to pick and choose5
The flower that most may please his whim6
Exotics and the daintiest rose7
Make sweet obeisance unto him.8
But Heaven in its mercy set,9
To bloom beside my village cot,10
A blue-eyed woodland violet.11
Methought it was my own, God wot !12
And sent to cheer my life of care.13
Brave little heart, that ailed not on14
The honest breath of native air.15
But one sad day I found it gone.16
’Tis bold for vassal-lips to say17
Your Lordship’s deed was foully done18
To pluck my treasure fresh and gay,19
And fling it withered to the sun.20
The power that is not all divine,21
Must leave the poor some sweets of life ;22
Court-airs are yours, and rapier fine,23
But Jacques has still a heart—and knife.24