Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

%^6 BALLADS ancient and modern, LEGENDARIES, &c.
" Hail ! hail ! my gentle fire, and dame !
" My ineiTage will not wait,
" Dame, you maun to the Greenwood gOj
" Before it be too late.
" You're bid to take this gay mantel,
" 'TJs a' gowd but the hem :
■" ,You maun hafte to the good Green woo'd,
'" E'en by yourfeif alans.
" And there it is, a filten fcarfe,
" Your own hand few'd the fleeve ;
"" You maun go fpeak lo Child .Maurice ;
" Alk no bold baron's leave."
The lady ftamped with her foot,
And winked with her eye ;
Eut all that fhe could fay or do,
JForbid he would not be.
" It's Airely to my bower- woman,
" It ne'er could be to me/'
" I brought it to lord Bernard 'i lady ;
" I thought that you be fhe."
Then up and fpeak the wily nurfg,
(The bairn upan her knee)
■•' If it be come from Child Maurice,
" It's dear welcome to me."
-.« Ye lie, ye lie, thou filthy nurfe,
" So loud as I heir you lief
" I brought it to lord Bernard's lady,
*' I'm fure you are not fhe."
Then up and fpeak the bold baron,
All angry man was he ;
He's tane the table with his foot.
So has he with his knee,
Till chryftal cup and azar difh
In flinders he made flie.
"' Go bring a robe of your eliding,
" With all the hafte you can,
" And I'll go to the good Greenwood,
" And fpeak with your iemman."
" Oh, bide at home now lord Bernard 1
" I warn you bide at home ;
" Ne'er wyte a man for violence,
" Who ne'er wyte you. with none."
' Cliild Maurice fat in the Greenwood,
He whittled and he fung ;
■" Oh, what means all the folk coming ;
" My mother tarries long."
The baron to the Greenwood came.
With mickle dule and care ;
And there he firft fpy'd Child Mauri-.e,
Combing his yellow hair.
" No wonder, no wonder, Child Ma-ur.ci^
" My lady loves thee weel :
" The faireft part of my body
" Is blacker than thy heil.
«' Yet ne'er the lefs now, Child Maurice,
" For all thy great beauty,
•" You'll rue the day you ere was born ;
" That head fhall go with me."
' Now he has drawn his trufty brand,
And flaided owr the ftrae ;
And through Child Maurice' fair body .
He gar'd the cold iron gae.
And then he took Child Maurice heads
And fet it on a fpear ;
The meaneft man in all his train,
Has gotten tkat head to beat.
And he-has- tane C^z'W Maurice up,
I, aid him acrofs his fteed ;
And brought him to his painted bower.
And laid him on a bed.
The lady on the caftle wall.
Beheld both dale and down ;
And there fhe law Child Maurice' head
Come trailing to the town.
"Better I love that bloody head,
" Botand that yellow hair,
" T]\3.Vl.\o'c A Bernard and all his lands,
" As they lie here and there."
And fhe has tane Child Maurice' head,
And kils'd both cheek and chin ;
-^' I was once fond of Child Maurice,
" As the hip is of the ftane.
" I got you in my father's houfe
" With mickle fin and fhame ;
" I brought ye up in the Greenwood,
"Known to myfelf alane :
" Oft have I by thy cradle fat,
" And fondly feen thee fleep ;
" But now I may go 'bout thy grave
" A mother's tears to -\lveep."
Again fhe kifs'd his bloody cheek,
Again his bloody chin ;
-" Better I iov'd my fon Maurice,
" Than all my kiff and kin 1"
" Away, away, ye ill woman,
" An ill death may you die !
-" If I had known he was your fon,
"He'd ne'er been flain by me."
«
" Upbraid me not, my lord Bernard!
" Upbraid me not for fhame I
" With chat fame fpear, oh, pierce my heart.
" And fave me from tny pain!
" Since nothing but Child Maurice' head
" Tliy jealous rage could quell,
" Let that fame hand now take her life,
" That ne'er to thee done ill.
" To me no after days nor nights
" Will ere be fafe or kind :
" I'll fill the air with heavy fighs,
" And greet till I be blind."
" Enough of blood by me's been fpilt,
" Seet not your death from me ;
" I'd rather it had been myfelf,
" Than either him or thee. ■
' " With hopelefs woe I hear your plaint,
" Sore, fore I rue the deed —
" That ere thiscurfed hand of mine
" Should make his body bleed !
*' Dry up your tears, my winfome dame,
" They ne'er can hail the wound ;
\' You fee his head Upon the fpear,
" His heart's blood on the ground.
" I curfe the hand that did the deed,
" The heart that thought the ill,
" The feet that bore me v/ith fuch fpeed,
" The comely youth to kill.
" I'll e're lament for Child Maurice
" As if he were my ane ;
" I'll i.e'er fortjet the dreary day
" On which the youth, was llain."