Note 11 — The First Book.
Reading edition
“She stared me in the face.”
This line is in one of the most beautiful passages of our old Ballads, so full of beauty. I have never seen the Ballad in print, and with some trouble, have procured only an imperfect copy from memory. It is necessary to insert some of the preceding stanzas. The title is
Old Poulter’s mare. At length old age came on her And she grew faint and poor, Her master he fell out with her And turned her out of door, Saying, if thou wilt not labour, I prithee go thy way,— And never let me see thy face Until thy dying day. These words she took unkind And on her way she went, For to fulfill her master’s will Always was her intent, The hills were very high The vallies very bare, The summer it was hot and dry,— It starved Old Poulter’s Mare. Old Poulter he grew sorrowful And said to his kinsman Will, I’d have thee go and seek the Mare O’er valley and o’er hill, Go, go, go, go, says Poulter, And make haste back again, For until thou hast found the Mare In grief I shall remain. Away went Will so willingly, And all day long he sought: Till when it grew towards the night, He in his mind bethought, He would go home and rest him And come again to-morrow, For if he could not find the Mare His heart would break with sorrow. He went a little farther And turned his head aside, And just by goodman Whitfield’s gate Oh there the Mare he spied. He asked her how she did, She stared him in the face, Then down she laid her head again,— She was in wretched case.