"But now, alas! my husband's dead,
"And all my friends åre from me fled,
"My former days are past and gone,
“And I am now a ferving-man."

And fetching many a tender figh,
As thinking no one then was nigh,
In penfive mood I laid me lowe,
My heart was full, the tears did flowe.

The king, who had a huntinge gone,
Grewe weary of his sport anone,
And leaving all his gallant traine,
Turn'd on the fudden home againe:

And when he reach'd his ftatelye tower,
Hearing one fing within his bower,
He ftopt to liften, and to fee
Who fung there fo melodiouflìe,

Thus heard he everye word I fed,
And fawe the pearlye teares I fhed,
And found to his amazement there,

Sweete William was a ladye faire.

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95

100

105

110

Then stepping in, Faire ladye, rise,
And dry, faid he, thofe lovelye eyes,
For I have heard thy mournful tale,

The which shall turne to thy availe.

A crimson dye my face orefpred,

I blusht for shame, and hung my head,
To find my fex and story knowne,
When as I thought I was alone.

Ah! no, my liege, I firmlye fayd,

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I'll rather in my grave be layd,

And though your grace hath won my heart, 1 ne'er will act foe bafe a part.

-Faire ladye, pardon me, fayde hee,

Thy virtue fhall rewarded bee,"

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And fince it is foe fairly tryde

Thou shalt become my royal bride.

Then ftrait to end his amorous ftrife,

He tooke fweet William to his wife:
The like before was never feene,

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A ferving-man became a queene.

XVIII. GIL

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XVIII.

GIL MORRICE.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

The following piece has lately run thro' two editions in Scotland: the fecond was printed at Glasgow in 1755. 8vo. Prefixed to them both is an advertisement, fetting forth that the prefervation of this poem was owing "to a lady, who "favoured the printers with a copy, as it was carefully collected from the mouths of old women and nurses ;” And any reader that can render it more correct or complete," is defired to oblige the public with fuch improvements. In conSequence of this advertisement fixteen additional verfes have been produced and handed about in manuscript, which are bere inferted in their proper places: (thefe are from ver. 109. to ver. 121. and from ver. 124. to ver. 129. and are perhaps after all only an ingenious interpolation.)

As this poem lays claim to a pretty high antiquity, we have affigned it a place among our early pieces: though, after all, there is reafon to believe it has received very confiderable modern improvements: for in the Editor's ancient MS collection is a very old imperfect copy of the fame ballad : wherein though the leading features of the ftory are the fame, yet the colouring here is so much improved and heightened, and fo many additional ftrokes are thrown in, that it is evident the whole has undergone a revifal.

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N. B. The Editor's MS inftead of lord Barnard", 36 John Stewart"; and inflead of" Gil Morrice", CHILD MAURICE, which laft is probably the original title. See above p. 54.

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It was nae for his great richès,

Nor zet his mickle pride; Bot it was for a lady gay,

That livd on Carron fide.

Quhair fall I get a bonny boy,

That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to lord Barnards ha’,
And bid his lady cum ?
And ze maun rin errand Willie ;
And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horfe-back ze fall ride.

O no! Oh no! my mafter dear!
I dare nae for my life;

I'll no gae to the bauld baròns,

For to trieft furth his wife.

My bird Willie, my boy Willie;
My dear Willie, he fayd:

How can ze strive against the stream ?
For I fhall be obeyd.

Rot, O my mafter dear! he cryd,

In

grene wod ze're zour lain; Gi owre fic thochts, I walde ze rede,

For fear ze fhould be tain.

Hafte, hafte, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi' speid:

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If

Ver. 11. fomething seems wanting here.

If ze refuse my heigh command,
Ill gar zour body bleid.

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Gae bid hir take this gay mantèl,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem ;

Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain :
And there it is, a filken farke,

Hir ain hand fewd the fleive ;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave.

Yes, I will gae zour black errand,

Though it be to zour coft;

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Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd,

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