Ye'se rew the day ye eir was born; Now he has drawn his trusty brand, And throuch Child Maurice fair body And he has tane Child Maurice heid, The meinest man in a his train, And he has tane Child Maurice up, 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 stane. "I gat ye in my father's house "Wi meikle sin and shame; "I brocht ye up in the grenewode "Ken'd to mysel alane: "Aft have I by thy craddle sitten, Again she kiss'd his bluidy cheik, O better I looed my son Maurice, Awa, awa, ye ill woman, He had neir bein slayne by me.' "Obraid me not, my lord Barnard ! "Obraid me not for shame! "Wi that sam speir, O perce 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 me nae after days nor nichts I'll fill the air with heavy sichs, Eneuch of bluid by me's been spilt, Seek not your dethe frae me; I'd rather far it had been mysel, Wi hopeless wae I hear your plaint, • That eir this cursed hand of mine 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, I'll aye lament for Child Maurice I'll neir forget the dreiry day • On which the youth was slain.' PROLOGUE. IN antient times, when Britain's trade was arms, A godlike race sustain'd fair England's fame : When powerful fate decreed one warrior's doom, When PIERCY wrong'd, defy'd his prince or peers, |