And in my darling's garden[21]
Is many a precious flower;
Oh, in this budding season,
Would God 'twere now the hour
To go and pluck the roses
And nevermore to part:
I think full sure to win her
Who lies within my heart!
Now who this merry roundel
Hath sung with such renown?
That have two lusty woodsmen
At Freiberg in the town,—
Have sung it fresh and fairly,
And drunk the cool red wine:
And who hath sat and listened?—
Landlady's daughter fine!
What with the more modern tone, and the lusty woodsmen, one has deserted the actual dance, the actual communal origin of song; but one is still amid communal influences. Another little song about the heart and the key, this time from France, recalls one to the dance itself, and to the simpler tone:—
Shut fast within a rose
I ween my heart must be;
No locksmith lives in France
Who can set it free,—
Only my lover Pierre,
Who took away the key![22]
Coming back to England, and the search for her folk-song, it is in order to begin with the refrain. A "clerk," in a somewhat artificial lay to his sweetheart, has preserved as refrain what seems to be a bit of communal verse:—
Ever and aye for my love I am in sorrow sore;
I think of her I see so seldom any more,[23]—
rather a helpless moan, it must be confessed.
Better by far is the song of another clericus, with a lusty little refrain as fresh as the wind it invokes, as certainly folk-song as anything left to us:—
Blow, northern wind,
Send thou me my sweeting!
Blow, northern wind,
Blow, blow, blow!