Chapter VII: Part THE FIRST (3)

Now marke what fortune did provide; 65
The king he would a hunting ride
With all his lords and noble traine,
Sweet William must at home remaine.

Thus being left alone behind,
My former state came in my mind: 70
I wept to see my mans array;
No longer now a ladye gay.

And meeting with a ladyes vest,
Within the same myself I drest;
With silken robes, and jewels rare, 75
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. 80

"My father was as brave a lord,
As ever Europe might afford;
My mother was a lady bright;
My husband was a valiant knight:

"And I myself a ladye gay, 85
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; 90
I had my virgins fair and free,
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, 95
And I am now a serving-man."

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. 100

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

And when he reach'd his statelye tower, 105
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, 110
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, 115
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. 120

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, 125
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, 130
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, 135
A serving-man became a queene.

[***]

XVIII.

GIL MORRICE.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

The following piece hath run thro' two editions in Scotland: the second was printed at Glasgow in 1755, 8vo. Prefixed to them both is an advertisement, setting forth that the preservation 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 desired to oblige the public with such improvements. In consequence of this advertisement sixteen additional verses have been produced and handed about in manuscript, which are here inserted in their proper places: (these are from ver. 109, to ver. 121, and from ver. 124, to ver. 129, but are perhaps, after all, only an ingenious interpolation.)

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

This little pathetic tale suggested the plot of the tragedy of _Douglas_.

Since it was first printed, the Editor has been assured that the foregoing ballad is still current in many parts of Scotland, where the hero is universally known by the name of _Child Maurice_, pronounced by the common people _Cheild_ or _Cheeld_; which occasioned the mistake.

It may be proper to mention that other copies read ver. 110, thus:

"Shot frae the golden sun"

And ver. 116, as follows:

"His een like azure sheene."

N.B. The Editor's MS. instead of "lord Barnard," has "John Stewart;" and instead of "Gil Morrice," _Child Maurice_, which last is probably the original title. See above, p. 58.

* * * * *

[_Gil Maurice_ is one of the most popular of the old ballads and it
is also one of the most corrupt. The present copy is so tinkered
that it is not surprising Burns regarded the ballad as a modern
composition and classed it with _Hardyknute_, a position afterwards
taken up by Robert Chambers in his pamphlet _The Romantic Scottish
Ballads, their epoch and authorship_. The fact however that the
story is preserved in the Folio MS. and also in several other
forms obtained from tradition prove it to be an authentic ballad.
Jamieson thinks it has all the appearance of being a true narrative
of some incident that had really taken place. Motherwell devotes
several pages of his _Minstrelsy_ (pp. 257-286) to an account
of the various versions. He says that tradition points out the
"green wood" of the ballad in the ancient forest of Dundaff in
Stirlingshire.

The request for additions mentioned above by Percy was a tempting
bait eagerly caught at, and the edition of 1755 was a made up
text with additional verses. Besides vv. 109-120, 125-128, which
are known to be interpolations, Professor Child (_English and
Scottish Ballads_, vol. ii. p. 38) also degrades to the foot of the
page the verses from 177 to the end, on the authority of Jamieson,
who says, that "having been attentive to all the proceedings in
most of the trials at the bar of ballad criticism I may venture
to hazard an opinion that the genuine text ends with 'ver. 176.'"
Ritson and Motherwell are of the same opinion. Sir Walter Scott
notes on the interpolated verses, "In the beautiful and simple
ballad of _Gil Morris_ some affected person has stuck in one or two
factitious verses which, like vulgar persons in a drawing room,
betray themselves by their over-finery."

The fine copy in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii.
p. 500), which Jamieson thought debased and totally unworthy of the
subject, which Chambers calls "a poor, bald imperfect composition,"
and Mr. Hales more accurately designates as "a noble specimen
of our ballad poetry in all its strength," was first printed by
Jamieson (_Popular Ballads and Songs_, 1806, vol. i. p. 8), and is
now added to the present version. The last stanza of the Folio MS.
copy is identical with the last stanza but one of _Little Musgrave_
_and Lady Barnard_, with which it seems to have some connection
both in subject and name.

Prof. Aytoun points out that vv. 51-58 of Percy's copy, which are
now placed within brackets, are taken from _Lady Maisry_, a ballad
obtained from recitation and printed by Jamieson (vol. i. p. 73).

"O whan he came to broken briggs
He bent his bow and swam,
And whan he came to the green grass growin'
He slack'd his shoon and ran.

And whan he came to Lord William's yeats
He badena to chap or ca',
But set his bent bow to his breast
And lightly lap the wa'."

It is however only fair to Percy to say that he printed _Gil
Morice_ before _Lady Maisry_ was published.

Gray wrote to a friend, "I have got the old Scotch ballad on which
_Douglas_ was founded; it is divine, and as long as from hence
[Cambridge] to Aston."

Jamieson says, on the authority of Sir Walter Scott, that after the
appearance of Home's _Douglas_ six additional stanzas, beginning--

"She heard him speak, but fell despair
Sat rooted in her heart
She heard him, and she heard nae mair
Though sair she rued the smart,"

were written to complete the ballad, and in accordance with the
final catastrophe of the tragedy Lord Barnard rushes into the
thickest of the fight--

"and meets the death he sought."

When the play was produced in Edinburgh in 1756 the heroine was
named Lady Barnard, and the alteration to Lady Randolph was made on
its appearance in England in the following year.

Jamieson gives three stanzas of a traditional version of the
ballad, the whole of which neither he nor Motherwell could recover,
although Mr. Sharpe told the latter that they were incorporated in
an Annandale version which contained a novel feature in the story.

Motherwell prints a version called _Chield Morice_, which he
took down from the recitation of an old woman of 70 in 1827, and
which she had learned in infancy from her grandmother. She told
Motherwell "that at a later period of her life she also committed
to memory _Gill Morice_, which began with young lasses like her to
be a greater favourite, and more fashionable than the set which
her grandmother and other old folks used to sing under the title
of _Chield Morice_." He also prints _Child Moryce_, taken down
from the singing of widow M'Cormick of Paisley in 1825, and adds
his opinion that Morice and Maurice are evident corruptions of
Norice--a foster child. The story of Langhorne's _Owen of Carron_
is also taken from this ballad.]

* * * * *

Gil Morrice was an erlès son,
His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his great richès,
Nor yet his mickle pride;
Bot it was for a lady gay, 5
That livd on Carron side.

Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to lord Barnards ha',
And bid his lady cum? 10
And ye maun rin my errand, Willie;[241]
And ye may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horse-back ye sall ride.

O no! Oh no! my master dear! 15
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld baròns,
For to triest furth his wife.
My bird Willie, my boy Willie;
My dear Willie, he sayd: 20
How can ye strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd.

Bot, O my master dear! he cryd,
In grene wod ye're your lain;[242]
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede,[243] 25
For fear ye should be tain.
Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi speid:
If ye refuse my heigh command,
Ill gar your body bleid. 30

Gae bid hir take this gay mantèl,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem;[244]
Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain:
And there it is, a silken sarke, 35
Her ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave.

Yes, I will gae your black errand,
Though it be to your cost; 40
Sen ye by me will nae be warn'd,
In it ye sall find frost.
The baron he is a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt,
As ye will see before its nicht, 45
How sma' ye hae to vaunt.

And sen I maun your errand rin
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill. 50
[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 Barnards ha', 55
Would neither chap[245] nor ca':
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa'.][246]
He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait; 60
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, ye maun to the gude grene wod 65
Before that it be late.
Ye're bidden tak this gay mantèl,
Tis a' gowd bot the hem:[244]
You maun gae to the gude grene wode,
Ev'n by your sel alane. 70

And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive;
Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morìce;
Speir nae bauld barons leave.
The lady stamped wi' hir foot, 75
And winked wi' hir ee;
Bot a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.

Its surely to my bow'r-womàn;
It neir could be to me. 80
I brocht it to lord Barnards lady;
I trow that ye be she.
Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon hir knee)
If it be cum frae Gill Morice, 85
It's deir welcum to mee.

Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heird ye lee;[247]
I brocht it to lord Barnards lady;
I trow ye be nae shee. 90
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'[248] dish 95
In flinders he gard flee.[249]

Gae bring a robe of your clidìng,[250]
That hings upon the pin;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,
And speik wi' your lemmàn. 100
O bide at hame, now lord Barnàrd,
I warde ye bide at hame;
Neir wyte[251] a man for violence,
That neir wate[252] ye wi' nane.

Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode, 105
He whistled and he sang':
O what mean a' the folk comìng,
My mother tarries lang.
[His hair was like the threeds of gold,
Drawne frae Minervas loome: 110
His lipps like roses drapping dew,
His breath was a' perfume.

His brow was like the mountain snae
Gilt by the morning beam:
His cheeks like living roses glow: 115
His een like azure stream.
The boy was clad in robes of grene,
Sweete as the infant spring:
And like the mavis on the bush,
He gart the vallies ring.] 120

The baron came to the grene wode,
Wi' mickle dule and care,
And there he first spied Gill Morìce
Kameing his yellow hair:
[That sweetly wavd around his face, 125
That face beyond compare:
He sang sae sweet it might dispel,
A' rage but fell despair.][253]

Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morìce,
My lady loed thee weel, 130
The fairest part of my bodie
Is blacker than thy heel.
Yet neir the less now, Gill Morìce,
For a' thy great beautiè,
Ye's rew the day ye eir was born; 135
That head sall gae wi' me.

Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slaited on the strae;[254]
And thro' Gill Morice' fair body
He's gar cauld iron gae. 140
And he has tain Gill Morice' head
And set it on a speir;
The meanest man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.

And he has tain Gill Morice up, 145
Laid him across his steid,
And brocht him to his painted bowr
And laid him on a bed.
The lady sat on castil wa',
Beheld baith dale and doun; 150
And there she saw Gill Morice' head
Cum trailing to the toun.

Far better I loe that bluidy head,
Both and that yellow hair,
Than lord Barnard, and a' his lands, 155
As they lig here and thair.
And she has tain her Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin:
I was once as fow of Gill Morice,
As the hip is o' the stean.[255] 160

I got ye in my father's house,
Wi' mickle sin and shame;
I brocht thee up in gude grene wode,
Under the heavy rain.
Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, 165
And fondly seen thee sleip;
But now I gae about thy grave,
The saut tears for to weip.

And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin: 170
O better I loe my Gill Morice
Than a' my kith and kin!
Away, away, ye ill womàn,
And an il deith mait ye dee:
Gin I had kend he'd bin your son, 175
He'd neir bin slain for mee.

[Obraid me not, my lord Barnard!
Obraid me not for shame!
Wi' that saim speir O pierce my heart!
And put me out o' pain. 180
Since nothing bot Gill Morice head
Thy jelous rage could quell,
Let that saim hand now tak hir life,
That neir to thee did ill.

To me nae after days nor nichts 185
Will eir be saft or kind;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind.
Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,
Seek not your death frae mee; 190
I rather lourd it had been my sel
Than eather him or thee.

With waefo wae I hear your plaint;
Sair, sair I rew the deid,
That eir this cursed hand of mine 195
Had gard his body bleid.
Dry up your tears, my winsome dame,
Ye neir can heal the wound;
Ye see his head upon the speir,
His heart's blude on the ground. 200

I curse the hand that did the deid,
The heart that thocht the ill;
The feet that bore me wi' silk speid,
The comely youth to kill.
I'll ay lament for Gill Morice, 205
As gin he were mine ain;
I'll neir forget the dreiry day
On which the youth was slain.]

* * * * *

[The following is copied from the Folio MS. (ed. H. & F. vol. 2.
pp. 502-506.)

Childe Maurice hunted ithe siluen wood,
he hunted itt round about,
& noebodye that he ffound therin,
nor none there was with-out. 4

& he tooke his siluer combe in his hand,
to kembe his yellow lockes;
he sayes, "come hither, thou litle ffoot page,
that runneth lowlye by my knee; 8
ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn stewards wiffe
& pray her speake with mee.

"& as itt ffalls out many times,
as knotts beene knitt on a kell, 12
or Marchant men gone to Leeue London
either to buy ware or sell,

"I, and greete thou doe that Ladye well,
euer soe well ffroe mee,-- 16
And as itt ffalles out many times
as any hart can thinke,

"as schoole masters are in any schoole house
writting with pen and Iinke,-- 20
ffor if I might, as well as shee may,
this night I wold with her speake.

"& heere I send her a mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse, 24
& bidd her come to the siluer wood
to hunt with Child Maurice;

"& there I send her a ring of gold,
a ring of precyous stone, 28
& bidd her come to the siluer wood;
let ffor no kind of man."

one while this litle boy he yode,
another while he ran; 32
vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall,
I-wis he neuer blan.

& of nurture the child had good;
hee ran vp hall & bower ffree, 36
& when he came to this Lady ffaire,
sayes, "god you saue and see!

"I am come ffrom Ch[i]ld Maurice,
a message vnto thee; 40
& Child Maurice, he greetes you well,
& euer soe well ffrom mee.

"& as itt ffalls out oftentimes,
as knotts beene knitt on a kell, 44
or Marchant men gone to leeue London,
either ffor to buy ware or sell,

"& as oftentimes he greetes you well
as any hart can thinke, 48
or schoole masters in any schoole
wryting with pen and inke;

"& heere he sends a Mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse, 52
& he bidds you come to the siluer wood,
to hunt with Child Maurice.

"& heere he sends you a ring of gold,
a ring of the precyous stone, 56
he prayes you to come to the siluer wood,
let ffor no kind of man."

"now peace, now peace, thou litle ffootpage,
ffor Christes sake, I pray thee! 60
ffor if my lord heare one of these words,
thou must be hanged hye!"

Iohn steward stood vnder the Castle wall,
& he wrote the words euerye one, 64
& he called vnto his horskeeper,
"make readye you my steede!"
I, and soe hee did to his Chamberlaine,
"make readye then my weede!" 68

& he cast a lease[256] vpon his backe,
& he rode to the siluer wood;
& there he sought all about,
about the siluer wood, 72

& there he ffound him Child Maurice
sitting vpon a blocke,
with a siluer combe in his hand
kembing his yellow locke. 76

he sayes, "how now, how now, Child Maurice?
alacke! how may this bee?"
but then stood vp him Child Maurice,
& sayd these words trulye: 80

"I doe not know your Ladye," he said,
"if that I doe her see."
"ffor thou hast sent her loue tokens,
more now then 2 or 3; 84

"ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse,
& bade her come to the siluer woode
to hunt with Child Maurice; 88

"& thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold,
a ring of precyous stone,
& bade her come to the siluer wood,
let ffor noe kind of man. 92

"and by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice,
the tone of vs shall dye!"
"Now be my troth," sayd Child Maurice,
"& that shall not be I." 96

but hee pulled forth a bright browne sword
& dryed itt on the grasse,
& soe ffast he smote att Iohn Steward,
I-wisse he neuer rest. 100

then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword,
& dryed itt on his sleeue;
& the ffirst good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeue; 104

& he pricked itt on his swords poynt,
went singing there beside,
& he rode till he came to that Ladye ffaire
wheras this ladye Lyed; 108

and sayes "dost thou know Child Maurice head
if that thou dost itt see?
& lapp itt soft, & kisse itt offt,
ffor thou louedst him better then mee." 112

but when shee looked on Child Maurice head
shee neuer spake words but 3,
"I neuer beare no Child but one,
& you haue slaine him trulye." 116

sayes, "wicked by my merry men all,
I gaue Meate, drinke, & Clothe!
but cold they not haue holden me
when I was in all that wrath? 120

"ffor I haue slaine one of the curteouse[s]t Knights
that euer bestrode a steed!
soe haue I done one [of] the fairest Ladyes
that euer ware womans weede!" 124

ffins]

FOOTNOTES:

[241] Ver. 11. something seems wanting here.

[242] [alone by yourself.]

[243] [advise.]

[244] Ver. 32, and 68, perhaps, _'bout the hem_.

[245] [knock.]

[246] V. 58. Could this be the wall of the castle?

[247] Ver. 88. Perhaps, _loud say I heire_.

[248] _i.e._ a drinking cup of maple: other edit. read _ezar_.

[249] [in splinters he made fly.]

[250] [clothing.]

[251] [blame.]

[252] [blamed.]

[253] Ver. 128. So Milton,--

"Vernal delight and joy: able to drive
All sadness but despair."--

B. iv. v. 155.

[254] [and wiped it on the grass.]

[255] [as the berry is of the stone.]

[256] leash, thong, cord?--F.

THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE THIRD.