This gemme of chastitè, this emeraude,
And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,
has his throat cut by "false Jewes," and, cast into a pit, still sings his chant in honor of
This welle of mercy, Christes moder sweet;
and, when discovered, cannot be buried in peace till the magic grain is removed which "that blissful maiden fre" has laid under his tongue.
The conclusion is, in our version, only implied. In that given by Jamieson the murdered child, speaking from the well, bids his mother prepare the winding-sheet, for he will meet her in the morn "at the back of merry Lincoln;" and the funeral service is performed by angels.
It was on a May, on a midsummer's day,
When it rained, it did rain small;
And little Harry Hughes and his playfellows all
Went out to play the ball.
He knocked it up, and he knocked it down,
He knocked it o'er and o'er;
The very first kick little Harry gave the ball,
He broke the duke's windows all.
She came down, the youngest duke's daughter,
She was dressed in green;
"Come back, come back, my pretty little boy,
And play the ball again."