And meeting with a ladye's vest,
Within the same myself I drest;
With silken robes, and jewels rare,
I deckt me, as a ladye faire :

And taking up a lute straitwaye,
Upon the same I strove to play;
And sweetly to the same did sing,
As made both hall and chamber ring.

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'My father was as brave a lord, "As ever Europe might afford;

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My mother was a lady bright;
My husband was a valiant knight:

"And I myself a ladye gay,
"Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array;
"The happiest lady in the land
"Had not more pleasure at command.

"I had my musicke every day
"Harmonious lessons for to play;
"I had my virgins fair and free

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Continually to wait on mee.

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

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And fetching many a tender sigh,
As thinking no one then was nigh,
In pensive 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 of his gallant traine,
Turn'd on the sudden home againe :

And when he reach'd his statelye tower,
Hearing one sing within his bower,
He stopt to listen, and to see
Who sung there so melodiouslìe.

Thus heard he everye word I sed,
And saw the pearlye teares I shed,
And found to his amazement there,
Sweete William was a ladye faire.

Then stepping in, Faire ladye, rise,
And dry, said he, those lovelye eyes,
For I have heard thy mournful tale,
The which shall turne to thy availe.

A crimson dye my face orespred,
I blusht for shame, and hung my head,
To find my sex and story knowne,
When as I thought I was alone.

But to be briefe, his royall grace
Grewe so enamour'd of my face,
The richest gifts he proffered mee,
His mistress if that I would bee.

Ah! no, my liege, I firmlye sayd,
I'll rather in my grave be layd;

And though your grace hath won my heart,
I ne'er will act soe base a part.

Faire ladye, pardon me, sayd hee,
Thy virtue shall rewarded bee,
And since it is soe fairly tryde
Thou shalt become my royal bride.

Then strait to end his amorous strife,
He tooke sweet William to his wife.
The like before was never seene,
A serving-man became a queene.

GIL MORRICE is one of the most popular ballads preserved among the Scottish peasantry. Tradition refers it to some remote period, and points out the scene of the story. From Mr. Motherwell we learn that the " green wood" of the ballad was the ancient forest of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, while "Lord Bernard's castle is said to have occupied a precipitous cliff overhanging the water of Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire. A small burn which joins the Carron, about five miles above these lands, is called the Earls-burn, and the hill, near the source of that stream, is called the Earls-hill; both deriving their appellations from the unfortunate Erle's-son,' who is the hero of the Ballad." According to the same tradition, he was remarkable for the length and beauty of his yellow hair. "Gil Morrice" has been fruitful in offspring, having suggested the tragedy of " Douglas" to Home, and "Owen of Carron" to Langhorn. Burns regarded the Ballad as a modern composition, and classed it with "Hardyknute." Mr. Jamieson [" Popular Ballads and Songs," i. 8] has reprinted, from the folio MS. the "very old and imperfect copy" which Percy mentions.

GIL MORRICE' was an Erlè's son;

His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor zet his mickle pride;

Bot it was for a lady gay,

That livd on Carron side.

Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to lord Barnard's ha',
And bid his lady cum?

And ze maun rin my errand, Willie ;2
And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horse-back ze sall ride.

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

I'll no gae to the bauld baròn's,

For to triest furth his wife.

My bird Willie, my boy Willie ;

My dear Willie, he sayd:

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

1 Mr. Motherwell sees in "Morrice" an evident corruption of "Norice," a

uurscling or foster.

2 Something seems wanting here.

Bot, O my master dear! he cryd,
In grene wod ze're zour lain;1
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede,'
For fear ze should be tain.

Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi speid:
If ze refuse my heigh command,
Ill gar zour body bleid.

Gae bid hir take this gay mantèl,
'Tis a' gowd bot3 the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain :
And there it is, a silken sarke,

Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir1 nae bauld baron's leave.

Yes, I will gae zour black errand,
Though it be to zour cost;
Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd,
In it ze sall find frost.

The baron he is a man of might,

He neir could bide to taunt,
As ze will see before its nicht,
How sma' ze hae to vaunt.

And sen I maun zour errand rin
Sae sair against my will,

I'se mak a vow, and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill.

And quhen he came to broken brigue,
He bent his bow and swam;

And quhen he came to grass growing,
Set down his feet and ran.

And quhen he came to Barnard's ha',
Would neither chap nor ca':
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa'.7

1 Zour lain, your lane-alone by yourself.
2I would you advise.

A' gowd bot, &c.-ull gold about the hem. 4 Speir-ask.
Brigue-bridge.
6 Chap-knock.
Could this be the wall of the castle?

He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait ;
Bot straiht into the ha' he cam,

Quhair they were set at meit.

Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame!
My message winna waite;

Dame, ze maun to the gude grene wod
Before that it be late.

Ze're bidden tak this gay mantèl,
Tis a' gowd bot the hem:

Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode,
Ev'n by your sel alane.

And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive;
Ze maun gae speik to Gill Morìce:
Speir nae bauld baron's leave.
The lady stamped wi' hir foot,
And winked wi' hir ee;
Bot a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.

It's surely to my bow'r-womàn ;
It neir could be to me.

I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady;
I trow that ze be she.

Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon hir knee)

If it be cum frae Gill Morìce,
It's deir welcum to mee.

Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heird ze lee;1

I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady;
I trow ze be nae shee.

Then up and spack the bauld baròn,
An angry man was hee;

He's tain the table wi' his foot,
Sae has he wi' his knee;
Till siller cup and 'mazer" dish
In flinders he gard1 flee.

1 Perhaps, loud say I heire.
2 i. e. a drinking-cup of maple.

Flinders-splinters.

4 Gard-made.

TF