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• And there it is, a silken sark,
"Your ain hand sew'd the sleive; * Ye maun gae speik to Child Maurice;
Speir na bauld baron's leive.'
And winked wi' her eie;
Forbidden he wald nae be.
“ It neir cold be to me." * I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady,
• I trow that ye be she.' Then up and spak the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon her knie), « If it be come from Child Maurice
" It's deir welcum to me.”
• Sae loud as I heir ye lie;
"I trow ye be nae shee.' Then
up and spake the bauld baron An angry man was he: He has tane the table wi' his foot,
Sae has he wi' his knie, Till crystal cup and ezar dish
In flinders he gard flie. “ Gae bring a robe of your cliding,
“ Wi' a' the haste ye can, “ And I'll gae to the gude grenewode,
“ And speik wi' your lemman.” O bide at hame now Lord Barnard !
‘I ward ye bide at hame; “ Neir wyte a man for violence,
Wha neir wyte ye wi' nane.'
Child Maurice sat in the grenewode,
Ho whistled and he sang; « O what meins a' the folk coming ?
“ My mother tarries lang."
Wi meikle dule and care;
Kaming his yellow hair. • Nae wonder, nae wonder, Child Maurice,
My lady loes thee weil : • The fairest part of my body
* Is blacker than thy heil. • Yet neir the less now, Child Maurice,
• For a' thy great bewtie, “Ye'se rew the day ye eir was born;
• That head sall gae wi' me.'
And slaided owr the strae;
He gar'd the cauld iron gae.
And set it on a speir;
Has gotten that heid to beir.
Laid him across his steid;
And laid him on a bed.
The lady on the castle wa'
Beheld baith dale and down,
Cum trailing to the toun.
I gat ye
* Better I loe that bluidy heid,
“ Bot and that yellow hair, « Than Lord Barnard and a' his lands
“ As they lig here and there." And she has tane Child Maurice heid,
And kissed baith cheik and chin; " I was anes fow of Child Maurice, “ As the hip is o' the stane.
“ Ken'd to mysell alane: “ Aft have I by thy craddle sitten,
“ And fondly sein thee sleip; “ But now I maun gae 'bout thy grave
“ A mother's teirs to weip." Again she kiss'd his bluidy cheik,
Again his bluidy chin; “ o better I loed my son Maurice,
“ Than a' my kyth and kin !" • Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
• An ill dethe may ye die ! * Gin I had ken'd he was your son
“He had neir been slayne by me.' “ Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard !
“ Obraid me not for shame! « Wi' that sam speir, O perce my heart,
“ And save me frae my pain!
“ Since nothing but Child Maurice head
Thy jealous rage cold quell, “ Let that same hand now tak her lyfe,
“ That neir to thee did ill.
“ To me nae after days nor nichts
« Will eir be saft or kind:
“ And greit till I be blind."
• Wi' hopeless wae I hear your plaint,
· Sair, sair I rue the deid,
Sold gar his body bleid !
They neir can heal the wound;
'I curse the hand that did the deid,
· The heart that thocht the ill,
The comelie youth to kill.
aye lament for Child Maurice
* On which the youth was slain.'
This Ballad, incomparable for pathos, is undoubtedly Scottish, and one of the oldest in print. It is here given from one of the oldest copies, and has been carefully collated with more than a dozen different editions. Several verses to be found in modern editions, describing the Child as having hair “ like threads of gold drawn from the loom of Minerva," 3 “snawy brow, cheeks like roses," and a breath remarkable for perfume, I have omitted as evident interpolations nowise harmonizing with the general tone and spirit of the Ballad. I may add that it has been general. ly supposed that this Ballad furnished Home with the plot for his Tragedy of Douglas.
GILDEROY was a bonny boy,
Had roses till his shoon;
Wi' garters hanging doun.
To see sae trim a boy:
My handsome Gilderoy.
O sic twa charming een he had!
Breath sweet as ony rose:
But costly silken clothes.
Nane eer to him was coy:
For my dear Gilderoy.
My Gilderoy and I were born
Baith in ae toun together;
We gan to luve ilk ither:
Of me and Gilderoy.
Gude faith, I freely bought
Wi' dainty ruffles wrought;
Which I receiv'd wi' joy: