A THEME WITH VARIATIONS
THEME
RIDE a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see a fine lady ride on a white horse;
With rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
She shall have music wherever she goes.
(Variation I.—Edmund Spenser)
So on he pricked, and loe, he gan espy,
A market and a crosse of glist'ning stone,
And eke a merrie rablement thereby,
That with the musik of the strong trombone,
And shaumes, and trompets made most dyvillish mone.
And in their midst he saw a lady sweet,
That rode upon a milk white steed alone,
In scarlet robe ycladd and wimple meet,
Bedight with rings of gold, and bells about her feet.
Whereat the knight empassioned was so deepe,
His heart was perst with very agony.
Certes (said he) I will not eat, ne sleepe,
Till I have seen the royall maid more ny;
Then will I holde her in fast fealtie,
Whom then a carle adviséd, louting low,
That little neede there was for him to die,
Sithens in yon pavilion was the show,
Where she did ride, and he for two-and-six mote go.
(Variation II.—Dr. Jonathan Swift)
Our Chloe, fresh from London town,
To country B——y comes down.
Furnished with half-a-thousand graces
Of silks, brocades, and hoops, and laces;
And tired of winning coxcombs' hearts,
On simple bumpkins tries her arts.
Behold her ambling down the street
On her white palfrey, sleek and neat.
(Though rumor talks of gaming-tables,
And says 'twas won from C——'s stables.
And that, when duns demand their bill,
She satisfies them at quadrille.)
Her fingers are encased with rings,
Although she vows she hates the things.
("Oh, la! Why ever did you buy it?
Well—it's a pretty gem—I'll try it.")
The fine French fashions all combine
To make folk stare, and Chloe shine,
From ribbon'd hat with monstrous feather,
To bells upon her under-leather.
Now Chloe, why, do you suppose,
You wear those bells about your toes?
Is it, your feet with bells you deck
For want of bows about your neck?
(Variation III—Sir Walter Scott
From "The Lady of the Cake")
"Who is this maid in wild array,
And riding in that curious way?
What mean the bells that jingle free
About her as in revelry?"
"'Tis Madge of Banbury," Roderick said.
"And she's a trifle off her head,
'Twas on her bridal morn, I ween,
When she to Graeme had wedded been,
The man who undertook to bake
Never sent home the wedding cake!
Since then she wears those bells and rings,
Since then she rides—but, hush, she sings."
She sung! The voice in other days
It had been difficult to praise,
And now it every sweetness lacked,
And voice and singer both were cracked.