A collection of ancient and modern Scottish ballads, etc

144
[Jiis hair was like the threeds of gold,
Drawne frae Minerva's ioome:
His lipps like roses drapping dew.
His breath was a' perfume.
His brow was like the mountain sna*
Gilt by the morning beam :
His cheeks like living roses glow :
His e'en 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.]]
The baron to the grene wode cam,
Wi' meikle dule and care.
And there he first spied Gil Morricc
Kaming * his yellow hair
j^That sweetly wav'd around his face.
That face beyond compare :
He sang sae sweet, it might dispel
A' rage but fell despair.^
^' Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gil Morrice,
My lady lo'es thee weel.
The fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.
^' Yet ne'er the less now, Gil Morrice,
For a' thy great beautie,
Ye'se rew t the day ye eir was born ;
Tliat head sail gae. wi' me."
* Combing. f
:
Be sorrow for.