Читать книгу English and Scottish Ballads (Vol. 1-8) - Various Authors - Страница 108
GIL MORRICE.
Оглавление"Of the many ancient ballads which have been preserved by tradition among the peasantry of Scotland, none has excited more interest in the world of letters than the beautiful and pathetic tale of Gil Morice; and this, no less on account of its own intrinsic merits as a piece of exquisite poetry, than of its having furnished the plot of the justly celebrated tragedy of Douglas. It has likewise supplied Mr. Langhorne with the principal materials from which he has woven the fabric of his sweet, though prolix poem of Owen of Carron. Perhaps the list could be easily increased of those who have drawn their inspiration from this affecting strain of Olden Minstrelsy.
"If any reliance is to be placed on the traditions of that part of the country where the scene of the ballad is laid, we will be enforced to believe that it is founded on facts which occurred at some remote period of Scottish History. The 'grene wode' of the ballad was the ancient forest of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, and Lord Barnard's Castle is said to have occupied a precipitous cliff, overhanging the water of Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire. A small burn, which joins the Carron about five miles above these lands, is named the Earlsburn, and the hill near the source of that stream is called the Earlshill, both deriving their appellations, according to the unvarying traditions of the country, from the unfortunate Erle's son who is the hero of the ballad. He, also, according to the same respectable authority, was 'beautiful exceedingly,' and especially remarkable for the extreme length and loveliness of his yellow hair, which shrouded him as it were a golden mist. To these floating traditions we are, probably, indebted for the attempts which have been made to improve and embellish the ballad, by the introduction of various new stanzas since its first appearance in a printed form.
"In Percy's Reliques, it is mentioned that it had run through two editions in Scotland, the second of which appeared at Glasgow in 1755, 8vo.; and that to both there was prefixed an advertisement, setting forth that the preservation of the poem was owing 'to a lady, who favoured the printers with a copy, as it was carefully collected from the mouths of old women and nurses,' and requesting that 'any reader, who could render it more correct or complete, would oblige the public with such improvements.' This was holding out too tempting a bait not to be greedily snapped at by some of those 'Ingenious Hands' who have corrupted the purity of legendary song in Scotland by manifest forgeries and gross impositions. Accordingly, sixteen additional verses soon appeared in manuscript, which the Editor of the Reliques has inserted in their proper places, though he rightly views them in no better light than that of an ingenious interpolation. Indeed, the whole ballad of Gil Morice, as the writer of the present notice has been politely informed by the learned and elegant Editor of the Border Minstrelsy, underwent a total revisal about the period when the tragedy of Douglas was in the zenith of its popularity, and this improved copy, it seems, embraced the ingenious interpolation above referred to. Independent altogether of this positive information, any one, familiar with the state in which traditionary poetry has been transmitted to the present times, can be at no loss to detect many more 'ingenious interpolations,' as well as paraphrastic additions, in the ballad as now printed. But, though it has been grievously corrupted in this way, the most scrupulous inquirer into the authenticity of ancient song can have no hesitation in admitting that many of its verses, even as they now stand, are purely traditionary, and fair, and genuine parcels of antiquity, unalloyed with any base admixture of modern invention, and in nowise altered, save in those changes of language to which all oral poetry is unavoidably subjected, in its progress from one age to another." Motherwell.
We have given Gil Morrice as it stands in the Reliques, (iii. 132,) degrading to the margin those stanzas which are undoubtedly spurious, and we have added an ancient traditionary version, obtained by Motherwell, which, if it appear short and crude, is at least comparatively incorrupt. Chield Morice, taken down from recitation, and printed in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, (p. 269,) nearly resembles Gil Morrice, as here exhibited. We have also inserted in the Appendix Childe Maurice, "the very old imperfect copy," mentioned in the Reliques, and first published from the Percy MS. by Jamieson.
The sets of Gil Morrice in the collections of Herd, Pinkerton, Ritson, &c., are all taken from Percy.
Gil Morrice was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide:
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor zet his mickle pride;
Bot it was for a lady gay5 That liv'd on Carron side.
"Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha',
And bid his lady cum?10
"And ze maun rin my errand, Willie,
And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horseback ze sall ride."
"O no! O no! my master dear!15
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld barons,
For to triest furth his wife."
"My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie," he sayd:20
"How can ze strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd."
"Bot, O my master dear!" he cry'd,
"In grene wod ze're zour lain;
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede,25
For fear ze should be tain."
"Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi' speid:
If ze refuse my heigh command,
I'll gar zour body bleid.30
"Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'T is a' gowd bot the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane hot hir lain:
"And there it is, a silken sarke,35
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave."
"Yes, I will gae zour black errand,
Though it be to zour cost;40
Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd,
In it ze sall find frost.
"The baron he is a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt;
As ze will see, before it's nicht,45
How sma' ze hae to vaunt.
"And sen I maun zour errand rin
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill."50
And quhen he came to broken brigue, He bent his bow and swam; And quhen he came to grass growing, Set down his feet and ran.
And quhen he came to Barnard's ha',55
Would neither chap nor ca';
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa'.
He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait;60
Bot straiht into the ha' he cam,
Quhair they were set at meit.
"Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame!
My message winna waite;
Dame, ze maun to the gude grene wod,65
Before that it be late.
"Ze're bidden tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem:
Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode,
Ev'n by your sel alane.70
"And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive:
Ze maun gae speik to Gill Morice;
Speir nae bauld barons leave."
The lady stamped wi' hir foot,75
And winked wi' hir ee;
But a' that she could say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.
"It's surely to my bow'r-woman;
It neir could be to me."80
"I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow that ze be she."
Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon hir knee):
"If it be cum frae Gill Morice,85
It's deir welcum to mee."
"Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heird ze lee;
I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow ze be nae shee."90
Then up and spack the bauld baron,
An angry man was hee;
He's tain the table wi' his foot,
Sae has he wi' his knee,
Till siller cup and ezer dish95 In flinders he gard flee.
"Gae bring a robe of zour cliding,
That hings upon the pin;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,
And speik wi' zour lemman."100
"O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard,
I warde ze bide at hame;
Neir wyte a man for violence,
That neir wate ze wi' nane."
Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode,105
He whistled and he sang:
"O what mean a' the folk coming?
My mother tarries lang."
The baron came to the grene wode, Wi' mickle dule and care;110 And there he first spied Gill Morice Kameing his zellow hair.
"Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice,
My lady loed thee weel;
The fairest part of my bodie115
Is blacker than thy heel.
"Zet neir the less now, Gill Morice,
For a' thy great beautie,
Ze's rew the day ze eir was born;
That head sall gae wi' me."120
Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slait it on the strae; And thro' Gill Morice' fair body He's gar cauld iron gae.
And he has tain Gill Morice' head,125 And set it on a speir: The meanest man in a' his train Has gotten that head to bear.
And he has tain Gill Morice up,
Laid him across his steid,130
And brocht him to his painted bowr,
And laid him on a bed.
The lady sat on castil wa',
Beheld baith dale and doun;
And there she saw Gill Morice' head135
Cum trailing to the toun.
"Far better I loe that bluidy head,
Bot and that zellow hair,
Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands,
As they lig here and thair."140
And she has tain her Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin:
"I was once as fow of Gill Morice,
As the hip is o' the stean.
"I got ze in my father's house,145
Wi' mickle sin and shame;
I brocht thee up in gude green wode,
Under the heavy rain.
"Oft have I by thy cradle sitten,
And fondly seen thee sleip;150
Bot now I gae about thy grave,
The saut tears for to weip."
And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik, And syne his bluidy chin: "O better I loe my Gill Morice155 Than a' my kith and kin!"
"Away, away, ze il woman, And an ill deith mait ze dee: Gin I had ken'd he'd bin zour son, He'd neir bin slain for mee."160
5. The stall copies of the ballad complete the stanza thus:
His face was fair, lang was his hair, In the wild woods he staid; But his fame was for a fair lady That lived on Carronside.
Which is no injudicious interpolation, inasmuch as it is founded upon the traditions current among the vulgar, regarding Gil Morice's comely face and long yellow hair. Motherwell.
51–58. A familiar commonplace in ballad poetry. See Childe Vyet, Lady Maisry, Lord Barnaby, &c.
95, mazer.
His hair was like the threeds of gold
Drawne frae Minerva's loome;
His lipps like roses drapping dew;
His breath was a' perfume.
His brow was like the mountain snae
Gilt by the morning beam;
His cheeks like living roses glow;
His een like azure stream.
The boy was clad in robes of grene,
Sweete as the infant spring;
And like the mavis on the bush,
He gart the vallies ring.
122, slaited.
That sweetly wavd around his face,
That face beyond compare;
He sang sae sweet, it might dispel
A' rage but fell dispair.
153. Stall copy, And first she kissed.
"Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard!
Obraid me not for shame!
Wi' that saim speir, O pierce my heart!
And put me out o' pain.
"Since nothing bot Gill Morice' head
Thy jelous rage could quell,
Let that saim hand now tak hir life
That neir to thee did ill.
"To me nae after days nor nichts
Will eir be saft or kind;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind."
"Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,
Seek not zour death frae me;
I rather lourd it had been my sel
Than eather him or thee.
"With waefo wae I hear zour plaint;
Sair, sair I rew the deid,
That eir this cursed hand of mine
Had gard his body bleid.
"Dry up zour tears, my winsome dame,
Ze neir can heal the wound;
Ze see his head upon the speir,
His heart's blude on the ground.
"I curse the hand that did the deid,
The heart that thocht the ill;
The feet that bore me wi' sik speid,
The comely zouth to kill.
"I'll ay lament for Gill Morice,
As gin he were mine ain;
I'll neir forget the dreiry day
On which the zouth was slain."
