Reliques of ancient English poetry, by T. Percy

XVIII-GIL MORRICE.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

ONE of the most popular of the olden ballads, of which there have been several editions.

The one in the Editor's folio edition, under title of Child Maurice, which gives "John Stewart" for Lord Barnard and “Child Maurice" for Gil Morice, is one of the most forcible.

The copy here brought before the reader having passed through "refining" hands, loses much of its early strength. The "greenwood" is said by Mr. Motherwell to be the forest of Dundaff in Stirlingshire. This pathetic story suggested the tragedy of Douglas.

GIL MORRICE was an erlès 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 Barnards ha', And bid his lady cum?

And ze maun rin my errand, Willie ;*

And ze may rin wi' pride;

Quhen other boys gae on their foot,

On horse-back ze zall ride.

O no! Oh no! my master dear!
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:
How can ze strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd.

Bot, O my master dear! he cryd,
In grene wod ze're zour lain;
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:

* Something seems wanting here.

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 Barnards ha',
Would neither chap nor ca':

* Perhaps "bout the hem."

Bot set his bent bow to his breist,

And lichtly lap the wa'.*

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 Morice;
Speir nae bauld barons leave.
The lady stamped wi' hir foot,
And winked wi' hir ee;
Bot a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nac bee.

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

I brocht it to lord Barnards 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 Morice,
It's deir welcum to mee.

Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse,

Sae loud I heird ze lee;

I brocht it to lord Barnards 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 gard flee.

Could this be the wall of the castle? ti.e. a drinking cup of maple; other edit. read "ezar."

Gae bring a robe of zour cliding,
That hings upon the pin;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,
And speik wi' zour lemmàn.
O bide at hame, now lord Barnard,
I warde ze bide at hame;
Neir wyte a man for violence,
That neir wate ze wi' nane.

Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode,
He whistled and he sang:
O what mean a' the folk coming,
My mother tarries lang.

His hair was like the threeds of gold,
Drawne frae Minerva's loome:
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 :
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.

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

Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice, My lady loed thee weel,

The fairest part of my bodie

Is blacker than thy heel.
Zet neir the less now, Gill Morice,

For a' thy great beautiè,

Ze's rew the day ze eir was born;
That head sall gae wi' me.

Now he has drawn his trusty brand, And slaited on the strae

SERIES THE THIRD.-BOOK II.

I. THE LEGEND OF SIR GUY.

THE oldest known form of Guy of Warwick is an Anglo-Norman one of the thirteenth century, composed doubtless from fragments that had floated hither and thither for some time previous.

The legend of Guy given here is published from an ancient MS. copy in the Editor's old folio volume, under the title of Guy and Phillis, collated with two printed ones, one of which is in black letter in the Pepys Collection.

The Legend of Sir Guy," says Percy, "contains a short summary of the exploits of this famous champion as recorded in the old story-books, and is commonly entitled, 'A Pleasant Song of the Valiant Deeds of Chivalry atchieved by that Noble Knight, Sir Guy of Warwick, who, for the Love of Fair Phelis, became a Hermit, and dyed in a cave of craggy rockes, a mile distant from Warwick.'

Rous, a priest of Guy's Cliff, in the fifteenth century, writes with regard to fair Phillis: "Dame Felys daughter and heire to Erle Rohand, for her beauty called Felyle Belle, or Felys the Faire, by true inheritance Countess of Warwick and ladye and wyfe to the most victorious Sir Guy; to whom, in his woinge time, she made great straungenes, and caused him for her sake to put himself in meny greate distresse, dangers, and perills; but when they wer wedded, and wer but a little season togither, he departed from her to her greate hevyness, and never was conversant with her after to her understandinge."

So he left the countess, and took upon himself pilgrim's weeds, which he wore to his life's end. His last battle was his victory over Colbrand, the Danish giant. He returned to Warwick, unknown to any but the king. "And two days before his deathe," says Rous, "an angell informed him of his passage oute of this world, and of his ladyes the day fourtnight after him."

So popular had the history of Guy of Warwick become, and so widely had it spread, that we are told by Dugdale, that in the year 1410, Lord Beauchamp, travelling in the East, was at Jerusalem invited to the palace by the Soldan's lieutenant, who had heard he was a descendant of Sir Guy of Warwick, of whom they had read in their own books; and who, after "royally feasting him, presented him with three precious stones of great value, besides divers cloaths of silk and gold given to his servants.'

WAS ever knight for ladyes sake

Soe tost in love, as I sir Guy For Phelis fayre, that lady bright As ever man beheld with eye?

She gave me leave myself to try,

The valiant knight with sheeld and
speare,

Ere that her love shee wold grant me ;
Which made mee venture far and neare.

Then proved I a baron bold,

In deeds of armes the doughtyest knight That in those dayes in England was, With sworde and speare in feild to fight.

An English man I was by birthe:

In faith of Christ a christyan true : The wicked lawes of infidells

I sought by prowesse to subdue,

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