The Scarborough Tragedy
Giving an Account how Susan Forster, a Farmer’s only Daughter, near Scarborough, was seduced by Mr Robert Sanders, a Naval Officer, under promise of Marriage. How she became Pregnant, and the wicked hardened, and cruel Wretch appointed to meet her at a well-known retired spot, which she unhappily did, and was basely Murdered by him, and buried under a Tree, and of the wonderful manner in which this base Murder was brought to light, and he was committed to Gaol.
Young virgins fair of beauty bright,
And you that are of Cupid’s fold,
Unto my tragedy give ear,
For it’s as true as e’er was told.
In Yorkshire, liv’d a virgin fair,
A farmer’s only daughter dear,
And young sea-captain did her ensnare,
Whose station was her father near.
Susannah was this maiden’s name,
The flower of all that country,
This officer a courting came,
Begging that she his love would be.
Her youthful heart to love inclin’d,
Young Cupid bent his golden bow,
And left his fatal dart behind,
Which prov’d Susannah’s overthrow.
Ofttimes at evening she would repair,
Close to the borders of the sea,
Her treach’rous love would meet her there,
The time it passed most pleasantly,
And while they walked the sea-banks over,
To mark the flowing of the tide,
He said he’d be her constant lover
And vow’d that she should be his bride.
Within the pleasant groves they walk’d,
And vallies where the lambs do play,
Sweet pleasant tales of love they talk’d,
To pass away the summer day.
My charming lovely Susan, said he,
See how the pleasant flowers spring,
The pretty birds on every tree,
With melody the groves doth ring.
I nothing want for to delight
My soul, but those sweet charms of thine,
My heart is fix’d, therefore my dear,
Like the turtle-dove let us combine,
Let me embrace my heart’s delight,
Within this pleasant bower here;
This bank of violets for our bed,
Shaded with these sweet roses fair,
She said, what can you mean, I pray,
I am a farmer’s daughter born.
What signifies my beauty bright,
A trifle, when my honour’s gone.
My parents they will me disdain,
Young virgins they will me deride,
Oh! do not prove my overthrow,
If you love me stay till your bride.
Sweet angel bright, I here do vow,
By all the powers that are divine,
I’ll ne’er forsake my dearest dear,
The girl that does my soul confine.
And if that you will me deny,
This sword shall quickly end my woe,
Then from her arms he ran straightway
In fury, out his sword he drew.
Her hands as white as lilies fair,
Most dreadfully she then did wring
She said, my death’s approaching near,
Would I pity take and comfort him
It only brings my fatal fall,
’Tis I who must receive the wound
The crimson dye forsook her cheeks,
At his feet she dropp’d upon the ground.
Thus innocence he did betray,
Full sore against her chaste desire;
True love is a celestial charm,
The flame of lust a raging fire.
But when her senses did revive,
He many vows and oaths did make,
That he’d for ever true remain,
Her company would not forsake.
Now virgins in the second part,
Observe this maiden’s fatal end,
When once your virtue is betray’d,
You’ve nothing young men will commend.
After the traitor had his will
He never did come near her more,
And from her eyes both day and night,
For his sake the crystal tears did pour,
Into a mournful valley she crossed,
Would often wander all alone,
And for the jewel she had lost
In the bower would often mourn.
Oh! that I were some pretty bird,
That I might fly to hide my shame;
O silly maid, for to believe
The fair delusions of a man.
The harmless lamb that sports and plays,
The turtle’s constant to his mate,
Nothing so wretched is as I,
To love a man that does me hate.
I will to him a letter send,
Remind him of the oaths he made
Within that shady bower, where
My tender heart he first betray’d.
Her trembling hand a letter wrote,
My dearest dear, what must I do?
Alas! what have I done, that I
Forsaken am now by you!
I could have wedded a worthy farmer,
Who little knows my misery;
I did forsake a wealthy grazier,
All for the love I bore to thee.
And now my little infant dear
Will quickly spread abroad my shame,
One line of comfort to me send,
E’er I am by your cruelty slain.
This answer he to her did send,
Your insolence amazes me,
To think that I should marry one
With whom, before, I have been free.
Indeed I’ll not a father be
Unto a bastard you shall bear,
So take no further thought of me,
No more from you pray let me hear.
When she this letter did receive,
She wrung her hands and wept full sore:
And every day she still would range,
To lament within the pleasant bower.
The faithless wretch began to think,
Her father’s rich, as I do hear,
He said, I sure shall punished be,
Soon as the story he does hear.
The devil then he did begin
To enter in his wretched mind;
Her precious life he then must have,
Thus he to act the thing did find.
He many times did watch her out,
Into the pleasant valley, where
One day he privately did go,
When he knew she was not there.
And privately he dug a grave
Underneath an oaken tree.
Then in the branches he did hide,
To act his piece of cruelty.
Poor harmless soul she nothing knew,
As usual she went there alone,
And on a bank of violets
In mournful manner sat her down.
Of his unkindness did complain;
At length the grave she did espy,
She rose indeed to view the same,
Not thinking that he was so nigh.
You gentle gods so kind, said she,
Did you this grave for me prepare?
He then descended from the tree,
Saying, strumpet now thy death is near.
O welcome, welcome, she replied,
As long as by your hand I die,
This is a pleasant marriage bed,
I’m ready, use your cruelty.
But the heavens bring to light
Thy crime, and thus let it appear,
Winter and summer on this grave,
The damask rose in bloom spring here.
Never to wither though ’tis cropped,
But when thy hand do touch the same,
Then may the bloom that minute blast
To bring to light my bitter shame.
More she’d have said, but with his sword,
He pierc’d her tender body through;
Then threw her in the silent grave,
Saying, now, there is an end of you.
He fill’d the grave up close again,
With weeds the same did overspread;
Then unconcerned, he straight went home,
Immediately went to his bed.
Her parents dear did grieve full sore, at
The loss of their young daughter,
Thinking she was stole away, as
To all their riches she was heir to.
Twelve months after this was passed,
Thousands for a truth do know,
According as she did desire,
On her grave a damask rose grew.
Many wonder’d at the same,
For in the winter it did spring,
If any one did crop the rose,
In a moment it would grow again.
The thing it blazed the country round,
And thousands went the same to see,
This miracle from heaven shew,
He ’mong the rest must curious be.
To go and see if this was true,
But when unto the plant he came,
The beauteous rose he saw in bloom,
And eagerly he cropp’d the same.
The leaves did fall from off the bush,
The rose within his hand did die,
He cried, ’tis fair Susannah’s blood,
That spring up from her fair body.
Many people that were there,
Took notice of what he did say,
They told him he’d a murder done,
He the truth confess’d without delay.
They dug and found the body there,
’Twas but this month that it was known.
Before a magistrate he went,
And now in prison lies forlorn.
Till he his punishment receives,
No doubt but he will have his due;
Young men by this a warning take,
Perform your vows whate’er ye do.
For God does find out many ways,
Such heinous sins to bring to light,
For murder’s a most horrid sin,
And hateful in his blessed sight.
Tragic Verses
Come all fair maids both far and near and listen unto me,
While unto you I do relate a dreadful Tragedy,
A deed of blood I will unfold which lately came to light,
When ’tis made known, you’ll surely own you never heard the like.
’Tis of an honest farmer’s child, a damsel fair and young,
Who was in tender years beguil’d all by a flattering tongue,
The finest lady in the land could not with her compare,
Her dimpled cheeks and rosy looks how charming sweet they were.
Crowds of admirers flocking came, to gain fair Susan’s love;
But none her favour could obtain, nor her affections move,
Till by mischance a youth she met, as fate would have it so,
Who caught her heart in Cupid’s net and prov’d her overthrow.
A naval Captain of renown, beguil’d her tender youth,
Deceit and lies he did disguise with air of seeming truth,
He prais’d her looks, her shape, her air, vow’d she should be his wife,
And thus did vilely her ensnare—then took her precious life.
When he had thus her ruin prov’d by many a solemn vow,
The very maid he vow’d to love was hateful in his view.
With bitter tears she did implore that he’d his vows fulfil;
But all in vain—she charm’d no more now he had had his will.
She wrote a letter which she thought would grieve his heart full sore,
And tenderly she him besought, to mind the vows he swore,
T’was you that did my heart trepan, which now in tears I rue—
Slighted many an honest man all for the love of you.
I wish that my young babe was born and on the nurse’s knee,
And I myself was dead and gone and the grass grown over me.
When he this letter through had read, which expos’d his villainy,
A deadly thought came in his head her butcher for to be.
With seeming kindness in his face which made poor Susan gay,
He did appoint a lonely place to meet with her next day.
The hour arriv’d, she hasten’d there to the appointment true,
Where the deceitful murderer the lovely damsel slew.
When she beheld his deadly knife she rais’d her lovely face,
Crying, Oh! spare, Oh! spare my life and leave me to disgrace,
Have pity on your unborn babe tho’ you have none for me;
Alas! a dark untimely grave, my bridal bed will be.
Her lovely face, her beauteous eyes, for mercy plead in vain,
Of no avail were tears or cries unmov’d he did remain,
He rais’d his arm,—a deadly plunge, and down she weltering lay,
And while her heart’s-blood stain’d the ground, with dying breath did say.
“Monster, the fearful crime you’ve done heaven’s Lord will bring to light,
“No human eye is looking on—none sees the cruel sight.
“Yet righteous King of heaven and earth my blood doth cry to thee,
“To visit my untimely death that all mankind may see.”
Now when this deed of blood was done he dug a hole so deep,
And thrust her murdered body in, then homeward did retreat,
But vengeance did his crime requite for to his great dismay,
The horrid murder came to light all in a wond’rous way.
He did confess—they dug the ground while hundreds came to view.
And here the murder’d corpse they found, of her who lov’d so true,
In irons now in Prison strong lamenting he does lie;
And, by the laws condemn’d ere long, most justly he will die.
J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth-court, 7 Dials.