A LOST CHILD.

Ye CRYER.Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!Love is a-strayingEver since Maying;Hither and yon, below, above,All are seeking Love!Ye HAND-BILL.Gone astray—between the MayingAnd the gathering of the hay,Love, an urchin ever playing—Folk are warned against his play.How may you know him? by the quiver,By the bow he’s wont to bear.First on your left there comes a shiver,Then a twinge—the arrow’s there.By his eye of pansy colour,Deep as wounds he dealeth free;If its hue have faded duller,’Tis not that he weeps for me.By the smile that curls his mouthlet;By the mockery of his sigh;By his breath, a spicy South, letSlip his lips of roses by.By the devil in his dimple;By his lies that sound so true;By his shaft-string, that no simpleEver culled will heal for you.By his beckonings that embolden;By his quick withdrawings then;By his flying hair, a goldenLight to lure the feet of men.By the breast where ne’er a hurt’llRankle ’neath his kerchief hid—What?you cry;he wore a kirtle?Faith! methinks the rascal did!Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!Love is a-strayingEver since Maying;Hither and you, below, above,I am seeking Love.

Ye CRYER.

Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!Love is a-strayingEver since Maying;Hither and yon, below, above,All are seeking Love!

Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!

Love is a-straying

Ever since Maying;

Hither and yon, below, above,

All are seeking Love!

Ye HAND-BILL.

Gone astray—between the MayingAnd the gathering of the hay,Love, an urchin ever playing—Folk are warned against his play.

Gone astray—between the Maying

And the gathering of the hay,

Love, an urchin ever playing—

Folk are warned against his play.

How may you know him? by the quiver,By the bow he’s wont to bear.First on your left there comes a shiver,Then a twinge—the arrow’s there.

How may you know him? by the quiver,

By the bow he’s wont to bear.

First on your left there comes a shiver,

Then a twinge—the arrow’s there.

By his eye of pansy colour,Deep as wounds he dealeth free;If its hue have faded duller,’Tis not that he weeps for me.

By his eye of pansy colour,

Deep as wounds he dealeth free;

If its hue have faded duller,

’Tis not that he weeps for me.

By the smile that curls his mouthlet;By the mockery of his sigh;By his breath, a spicy South, letSlip his lips of roses by.

By the smile that curls his mouthlet;

By the mockery of his sigh;

By his breath, a spicy South, let

Slip his lips of roses by.

By the devil in his dimple;By his lies that sound so true;By his shaft-string, that no simpleEver culled will heal for you.

By the devil in his dimple;

By his lies that sound so true;

By his shaft-string, that no simple

Ever culled will heal for you.

By his beckonings that embolden;By his quick withdrawings then;By his flying hair, a goldenLight to lure the feet of men.

By his beckonings that embolden;

By his quick withdrawings then;

By his flying hair, a golden

Light to lure the feet of men.

By the breast where ne’er a hurt’llRankle ’neath his kerchief hid—What?you cry;he wore a kirtle?Faith! methinks the rascal did!

By the breast where ne’er a hurt’ll

Rankle ’neath his kerchief hid—

What?you cry;he wore a kirtle?

Faith! methinks the rascal did!

Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!Love is a-strayingEver since Maying;Hither and you, below, above,I am seeking Love.

Here’s a reward for who’ll find Love!

Love is a-straying

Ever since Maying;

Hither and you, below, above,

I am seeking Love.

ye Finder pray’dto Bring her toMaster Corydon,Petticoat Lane.

ye Finder pray’d

to Bring her to

Master Corydon,

Petticoat Lane.

CRYER: H. BUNNER,GRUB STREET,CRY’S WEDDINGS,BURYINGS, LOFTCHILDN,AND RIGHTCHEAPLIE.YE IID.KNOCKER.

CRYER: H. BUNNER,

GRUB STREET,

CRY’S WEDDINGS,

BURYINGS, LOFT

CHILDN,AND RIGHT

CHEAPLIE.

YE IID.KNOCKER.

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