With the grasp of a vice, she seized the pendant ornament; and now it was pull cow, pull Molly!—for the two sturdy brothers of Roger belaboured the animal most unmercifully.
“Hold your own!” shrieked Mary’s mother.
“Go it, you old devil!” cried the brothers of Roger, as they thrashed and goaded the poor cow. Still with heroic firmness Mary kept her hold.
“But who can rule the uncertain chance of war?”
The period of detention had nearly arrived;—half a minute more, and Mary would be victorious—her vengeance complete—and Roger quite undone!—when lo! the tortured animal leaped suddenly from the wicket—and Mary, wretched Mary!—fell upon her brawny back, with the cow’s tail extended in her hands!—’Twas all the spoil her valiant attempt had left her!—Twisting and capering, the beast was seen speeding its way to Roger’s well known home;—and
“Thus was she (poor Molly)!
Of cow, of virtue, everything, bereft.”
It was rumoured that foul play had been committed by Roger’s brothers; and that a stick, with a sharp instrument at the end of it, had caused the catastrophe;—but, as there was no means of ascertaining the fact, the affair dropped.
A rustic bard, who had been hospitably received in Mary’s dwelling, presented to her the following Lament, which he composed, in gratitude, for her consolation.
LAMENT.
Oh mournful day! oh mournful day!
Base Roger’s cow has run away,
And left poor Molly to bewail
The sorrows she cannot re-tail.The grateful cabbage, greens, and leek
Her hands have reared, could they but speak,
Would thus hold converse with the ground,
Which daily her attention found.“Oh mother earth, how hard you get,
Since Molly’s left to pine and fret;
You drain our tops, our bottoms pinch,
We cannot grow another inch!“Your bed, so lately soft and warm,
To stony hardness you transform;
If ’tis for Molly this you do,
Oh think of leek and cabbage too!”“My children,” then said mother earth,
“I ever loved ye from your birth;
But know that I, as well as you,
Am doomed to pine and suffer too.“And if your bottoms feel uneasy,
’Tis not from want of will to please ye;
And if your green tops droop and pine,
’Tis not from any fault of mine.“For I am thirsting for a sup,
And Molly never stirs me up.
Forsaken love hath made her sore—
She cultivates the ground no more!”Oh mournful day! oh mournful day!
Base Roger’s cow has run away,
And left poor Molly to bewail
The sorrows she cannot re-tail!
After proceeding about a mile and a half on the Llangollen road, we turned off, to the left, up a lane, which led us to the noble domain of Mrs. Middleton Biddulph.