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Perhaps I should revile ; but as I am, Whom dost thou think me?
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Glenalvon.
Is of a race who strive not but with Douglas.
deeds. So I am-
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour, And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?
And make thee sink too soon beneath my
I'd tell thee-what thou art. I know thee A peasant's son, a wandering beggar
well. boy ; At best no more ; even if he speaks the
Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to Douglas.
command False as thou art, dost thou suspect my Ten thousand slaves like thee?-truth? Glenalvon.
Douglas. Thy truth ! thou'rt all a lie ; and false Villain, no more ! as hell
Draw, and defend thy life. I did design Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to To have defied thee in another cause ; Randolph.
But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on Douglas.
thee. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bed-rid Now for my own and Lady Randolph's old,
be placed on the traditions of that part
of the country where the scene of the [The origin of this very popular ballad ballad is laid, we shall be enforced to is involved in mystery. It first ap- believe that it is founded on facts which peared in print about the time (1756) occurred at some remote period of Scotthat Home's tragedy of Douglas, of tish history. The "greenwood” of the which it forms the germ, was first acted ballad was the ancient forest of Dundaff, in an Edinburgh theatre; and the fact in Stirlingshire; and Lord Barnard's of its relation to Douglas was stated in castle is said to have occupied a precithe title of the copy then hawked about pitous cliff overhanging the water of the country. The heroine, Lady Bar- Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire." nard, was the original name of Home's Whether the ballad ever had any tradiLady Randolph.
tional kernel or not, none of the authoMotherwell, who has gone at some rities consider its present form to be length into the question of its produc- much older than Douglas. It has a tion, says that, “If any reliance is to strong family likeness to Hardvknute.]
I darena, for my life ;
My dear Willie," he said ; “How can ye strive against the stream ? For I shall be obey'd."
VIII. “But oh, my master dear," he cried,
"In greenwood ye're your lane; Gie o'er sic thochts, I wou'd ye rede, 4
For fear ye shou'd be ta'en."
3 Must go.
Though he stood at the gate ;
XVIII. “Hail ! hail ! my gentle sire and dame!
My message winna' wait ; Dame, ye maun to the gude greenwood, Before that it be late.
XIX. “Ye're bidden take this gay mantle
'Tis all gowd but the hem ; You maun gae to the gude greenwood, E'en by yoursel' alane.
XX. “And there it is, a silken sark ;
Your ain hand sew'd the sleeve ;
And winkit with her e'e ;
It ne'er cou'd be to me."
(The bairn upon her knee),
XXIV. “Ye lee, ye lee, ye filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heard ye lee;
An angry man was he :
Sae has he with his knee,
Till siller cup and mazer' dish
That hings upon the pin ;
I rede ye bide at hame ;
Sang : “Oh, what mean all the folk coming ? My mother tarries lang.”
Drawn frae Minerva's loom ;
His breath was all perfume.
I will not.
* A large drinking dish. 2 Clothing.
XXXIV. “Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gil Morice,
My ladye lo'ed thee weel ; The fairest part of my body Is blacker than thy heel.
For all thy great beautie,
That head shall gae with me."
XXXVI. Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slait it on the strae,' And through Gil Morice's fair body
He's gar'd cauld iron gae.
And set it on a spear ;
Has gotten that head to bear.
Laid him across his steed,
And laid him on a bed.
XLII. “I got ye in my father's house,
With meikle grief and pain ; I brought thee up in gude greenwood, Under the heavy rain.
XLIII. “Oft have I by thy cradle sat,
And fondly seen thee sleep; But now I gae about thy grave, The saut' tears for to weep."
And an ill death may ye dee :
Upbraid me not, for shame! With that same spear, oh, pierce my heart, And put me out of pain !
Thy jealous rage cou'd quell,
Will e'er be saft and kind ; I'll fill the air with heavy sighs, And greet 2 till I am blind."
XLVIII. “Enough of blood by me's been spilt ;
Seek not your death frae me; I'd lever lourd 3 it had been mysel' Than either him or thee.
XLIX. “ With waeful heart I hear your plaint ;
Sair, sair, I rue the deed,
L. · Dry up your tears, my winsome dame, Ye ne'er can heel his wound;
Beheld baith dale and down ;
Come trailing to the town.
XL. “ Far better I lo'e that bluidy head,
Both and that yellow hair,
And kiss'd baith mouth and chin : “Oh, better I lo'e my Gil Morice
Than all my kith and kin !
3 Rather prefer.
2 Lie, extend.