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Then up and spake the bauld baron,

An angry man was he:
He has tane the table wi his foot,

Sae has he wi his knie,
Till crystal cup and czar dish

In flinders he gard flie.

" Gae bring a robe of your cliding,

66 Wia the haste ye can, " And I'll gae to the gude grenewode,

". And speik wi your leman."

O bide at hame now lord Barnard !

• I ward ye bide at hame ; · Neir wyte a man for violence,

• Wha neir wyte ye wi nane.'

Child Maurice sat in the grenewode,

He whistled and he sang : “ O what meins a the folk coming?

“ My nother tarries lang,"
The baron to the grenewode cam,

Wi meikle dule and care;
And there he first spyd Child Maurice,

Kaming his yellow hair. • Nae wonder, nae wonder, Child Maurice,

My lady loes thee weil : « The fairest part of my body

• Is blacker than thy heil.

* Yet reir the less now, Child Maurice,

• For a thy great bewtie,

• Ye’se rew the day ye eir was born;

• That heid sall gae wi me.'

Now he has drawn his trusty brand,

And slaided owr the strae; And throuch Child Maurice fair body

He gar'd the cauld iron gae.

And he has tane Child Maurice heid,

And set it on a speir;
The meinest man in a his train,

Has gotten that heid to beir.

And he has tane Child Maurice up,

Laid him across his steid; And brocht him to his painted bower

And laid him on a bed.

The lady on the castle wa

Beheld baith dale and down; And there she saw Child Maurice heid

Cum trailing to the toun.

“ Better I loe that bluidy heid,

“ Bot and that yellow hair, “ Than lord Barnard and a his lands

“ As they lig here and there,

And she has tane Child Maurice heid,

And kissed baith cheik and chin; " I was anes fow of Child Maurice

“ As the hip is o the stanc.

“ I gat ye in my father's house

66 Wi mcikle sin and shame;

“ I brocht ye up in the grenewode

" Ken’d to mysel alane :

Aft have I by thy craddle sitten,

“ And fondly sein thee sleip; " But now I maun gae 'bout thy grave

“ A mother's teirs to weip."

Again she kiss'd his bluidy cheik,

Again his bluidy chin; “ O better I looed my son Maurice,

“ Than a my kyth and kin!"

• Awa, awa, ye ill woman, • An ill dethe may ye

die! • Gin I had ken'd he was your son

• He had neir bein slayne by me.'

" Obraid me not, my lord Barnard !

" Obraid me not for shame! • Wi that sam spier, Operce my heart,

" And save me frae my pain !

“ Since naething but Child Maurice heid

Thy jealous rage cold quell • Let that same hand now tak her lyfe,

" That neir to thee did ill.

To mie nae after days nor nichts

" Willeir be saft or kind: " I'll fill the air with heavy sichs,

“ And greit till I be blind."

• Encuch of bluid by me's been spilt,

• Seek not your dethe frae me;

• I'd rather far it had been mysel,

• Than either himn or thee.

• Wi hopeless wae I hear your plaint,

• Sair, sair, I rue the deid. • That eir this cursed hand of mine

Sold gar his body bleid!

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• Dry up your teirs, my winsome dame,

They neir can heal the wound; " Ye see his heid upon the speir,

· His heart's bluid on the ground.

"I curse the hand that did the deid,

· The heart that thocht the ill, • The feet that bare me wi sic speid,

• The comely youth to kill. • I'll aye lament for Child Maurice

• As gin he war my ain; • I'll ne'er forget the dreary day • On which the youth was

slain.'

PROLOGUE.

IN ancient times, when Britain's trade was arms,
And the lov'd music of her youth, alarms;
A godlike race sustain'd fair England's fame :
Who has not heard of gallant PIERCY's name?
Ay, and of DOUGLAS? Such illustrious foes
In rival Rome and Carthage never rose !
From age to age bright shone the British fire,
And ev'ry hero was a hero's sire.
When powerful fare decreed one warrior's doom,
Up sprung the phenix from bis parent's tomb.
But whilst those generous rivals fought and fell,
Those generous rivals lov'd each other well:
Tho' many a bloody field was lost and won,
Nothing in hare, in honour all was done.
When PIERCY wrong'd, defy'I his prince or peers,
Fast came the DOUGLAS with his Scottish spears";
And, when proud DOUGLAS made bis King his foe,
For DOUGLAS, Piercy bent bis English bow.
Expellid seir native bomes by adverse fate,
They knock'd alternate at each other's gate :
Then blaz'd the castle, at the midnight hour,
For him whose arms had shook its firmest row'r.

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