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MR. GRAY offers an opinion upon this tragedy so consonant with that of the present writer, that he claims permission to cite it, as, poetically, an authority perhaps the highest. “ I am greatly struck with “ the tragedy of Douglas, though it has infinite faults: " the author seems to have retrieved the true lan
guage of the stage, which had been lost for these “ hundred years;
and there is one scene between Ma. “ tilda and the old peasant so masterly, that it strikes “ me blind to all the defects in the world."
This tragedy abounds in nervous picturesque and pathetic writing ; the chief incidents are extracted from an ancient Scottish Ballad, entitled CHILD MAURICE.-To supply curiosity with a reference at hand, it is here printed correctly
Child MAURICE was an erle's son
His name it waxed wide ;
Nor yit his meikle pride,
Wha liyd on Carron side.
. And there it is, a silken sark,
· Her ain hand sewd the sleive ; 6 And bid her come to Child Maurice;
• Speir nae bauld baron's leive.'
"! Yes I will gae your black errand,
" Thouch it be to your cost; “ Sen ye will nae be warnd by me,
" In it ye sall find frost.
" The baron he's a man o micht,
" He neir could bide to taunt: 6. And ye will see before its nicht,
" Sma cause ye ha to vaunt.
« And sen I maun your errand rin,
66 Sae sair against my will, " I'se mak a vow, and keip it trow,
“ ļt sall be done for ill."
Whan he cam to the broken brig,
He bent his bow and swam ;
Sat down his feet and ran.
And whan he cam to Barnard's yeat,
Wold neither chap nor ca,
And lichtly lap the wa.
He wald na tell the man his errand
Thoch he stude at the yeat; But streight into the ha he cam,
Whar they were set at meat.
Then up and spake the bauld baron,
An angry man was he:
Sae has he wi his knie,
In finders he gard flie.
« Gae bring a robe of your cliding,
" Wi a the haste ye can,
© 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 mother tarries lang.”
The baron to the grenewode 'cam,
Wi meikle dule and care;
Kaming his yellow hair.
( Nae wonder, nae wonder, Child Maurice,
. My lady loes thee weil : The fairest part of iny body ! Is blacker than thy heil.
¢ Yet neir the less now, Child Maurice,
! For a thy great bewtie,