Oft have I by thy cradle sitten,
And fondly seen thee sleip;

But now

I gae about thy grave,

The saut tears for to weip.

165

And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin:

170

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
Will eir be saft or kind;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,

185

And greet till I am blind.

Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,

Seek not zour death frae me;

190

I rather lourd it had been my sel

Than eather him or thee.

With waefo wae I hear zour plaint;

Sair, sair I rew the deid,

That eir this cursed hand of mine

Had gard his body bleid.

Dry up zour tears, my winsome dame,

Ze neir can heal the wound;

195

Ze 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 zouth to kill.
I'll ay lament for Gill Morice,
As gin he were mine ain;

I'll neir forget the dreiry day

On which the zouth was slain.

205

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:

RELIQUES

OF

ANCIENT POETRY,

&c.

SERIES THE THIRD.

BOOK II.

I.

The Legend of Sir Guy,

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 rocke, a mile distant from Warwick."

The history of Sir Guy, though now very properly resigned to children, was once admired by all readers of wit and taste for taste and wit had once their childhood. Although of English growth, it was early a favourite with other nations: it appeared in French in 1525, and is alluded to in the old Spanish romance of Tirante el Blanco, which, it is believed, was written not long after the year 1430. See advertisement to the French translation, 2 vols. 12mo.

The original whence all these stories are extracted, is a very ancient romance in old English verse, which is quoted by Chaucer as a celebrated piece even in his time, (viz.

"Men speken of romances of price,

Of Horne childe and Ippotis,

Of Bevis, and sir Guy," &c.

R. of Thop.)

and was usually sung to the harp at Christmas dinners and brideales, as we learn from Puttenham's Art of Poetry, 4to. 1589.

This ancient romance is not wholly lost. An imperfect copy in black letter," Imprynted at London-for Wylliam Copland," in 34 sheets, 4to. without date, is still preserved among Mr. Garrick's collection of old plays. As a spečimen of the poetry of this antique rhymer, take his description of the dragon mentioned in verse 105 of the following ballad :

"A messenger came to the king.

Syr king, he sayd, lysten me now,
For bad tydinges I bring you,

In Northumberlande there is no man,
But that they be slayne everychone:
For there dare no man route,

By twenty myle rounde aboute,

For doubt of a fowle dragon,

That sleath men and beastes downe..
He is blacke as any cole,

Rugged as a rough fole;

His bodye from the navill upwarde
No man may it pierce it is so harde;
His neck great as any summere;
He renneth as swift as any distrere;
Pawes he hath as a lyon:

All that he toucheth he sleath dead downe.

Great winges he hath to flight,

That is no man that bare him might.

There may no man fight him agayne,

But that he sleath him certayne:
For a fowler beast then is he,
Y wis of none never heard ye."