THE SACRILEGE A BALLAD-TRAGEDY ( Circa 182 - )

“I have a Love I love too well

Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;

I have a Love I love too well,

To whom, ere she was mine,

‘ Such is my love for you,’ I said,

‘ That you shall have to hood your head

A silken kerchief crimson-red,

Wove finest of the fine.’

“And since this Love, for one mad moon,

On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor,

Since this my Love for one mad moon

Did clasp me as her king,

I snatched a silk-piece red and rare

From off a stall at Priddy Fair,

For handkerchief to hood her hair

When we went gallanting.

“Full soon the four weeks neared their end

Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor;

And when the four weeks neared their end,

And their swift sweets outwore,

I said,‘ What shall I do to own

Those beauties bright as tulips blown,

And keep you here with me alone

As mine for evermore?’

“And as she drowsed within my van

On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor -

And as she drowsed within my van,

And dawning turned to day,

She heavily raised her sloe-black eyes

And murmured back in softest wise,

‘ One more thing, and the charms you prize

Are yours henceforth for aye.

“‘ And swear I will I'll never go

While Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor

To meet the Cornish Wrestler Joe

For dance and dallyings.

If you'll to yon cathedral shrine,

And finger from the chest divine

Treasure to buy me ear-drops fine,

And richly jewelled rings.’

“I said:‘ I am one who has gathered gear

From Marlbury Downs to Dunkery Tor,

Who has gathered gear for many a year

From mansion, mart and fair;

But at God's house I've stayed my hand,

Hearing within me some command -

Curbed by a law not of the land

From doing damage there.’

“Whereat she pouts, this Love of mine,

As Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor,

And still she pouts, this Love of mine,

So cityward I go.

But ere I start to do the thing,

And speed my soul's imperilling

For one who is my ravishing

And all the joy I know,

“I come to lay this charge on thee -

On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor -

I come to lay this charge on thee

With solemn speech and sign:

Should things go ill, and my life pay

For botchery in this rash assay,

You are to take hers likewise — yea,

The month the law takes mine.

“For should my rival, Wrestler Joe,

Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor -

My reckless rival, Wrestler Joe,

My Love's possessor be,

My tortured spirit would not rest,

But wander weary and distrest

Throughout the world in wild protest:

The thought nigh maddens me!”