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Which when her Uncle understood,
He hop'd it would be for her good,
And gave Consent to her straitway,
That with him the should come away.
When she was got her Love behind,
They pass'd as swift as any Wind,
That in two Hours, or little more,
He brought her to her Father's Door.

But as they did this great Hafte make,
He did complain his Head did ake ;
Her Handkerchief she then took out,
And ty'd the same his Head about :

And unto him she thus did say,
Thou art as cold as any Clay ;
When we come Home a Fire we'll have ;
But little dream'd he went to Grave.

Soon were they at her Father's Door,
And after she n'er saw him more :
I'll set the Horse up, then he said,
And there he left this harmless Maid.

She knock'd, and strait a Man he cry'd, Who's there ? 'Tis I, she then reply'd ; Who wonder'd much her Voice to hear, And was possess'd with Dread and Fear.

Her Father he did tell, and then
He star'd like an affrighted Man ;
Down Stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cry'd out, My Child, how cam'ft thou here?

Pray Sir, did you not send for me,
By such a Messenger, said she ;
Which made his Hair stare on his Head,
As knowing well that he was dead :

Where

Where is he ? then to her he said,
He's in the Stable, quoth the Maid.
Go in, said he, and go to Bed,
I'll see the Horse well littered.

He star'd about, and there could he
No Shape of any Mankind see,
But found his Horse all on a Sweat,
Which made him in a deadly Fret.

His Daughter he said nothing to,
Nor none else, tho' full well they knew,
That he was dead a Month before,
For fear of grieving her full sore.

Her Father to the Father went Of the Deceas'd, with full Intent To tell him what his Daughter said, So both came back unto this Maid.

They ask'd her, and she still did say,
'Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard, they were amaz’d,
And on each other strangely gaz’d.

A Handkerchief she said she ty'd
About his Head ; and that they try'd,
The Sexton they did speak unto,
That he the Grave would then undo :

Affrighted, then they did behold
His Body turning into Mould,
And though he had a Month been dead,
This Handkerchief was about his Head.

This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole Truth they did unfold ;
She was thereat so terrified
And grieved, that she quickly died.

N 3

Part

Part not true Love, you rich Men then,
But if they be right honest Men
Your Daughters love, give them their way,
For Force

oft breeds their Lives decay.

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XXXIX. The Scotch Lover's Lamen

tation : Or, Gilderoy's last Farewell.

There is nothing wanting to make this Volume

a perfect Medly, and to fit fome Ballad to the Taste of every Reader; but the adding of a few old Scotch Songs, and therefore I shall close my Colle&tion with 'em. The Hero of the following Ballad cannot be recorded very much to his Praise, for befides Robberies and common Murders, he is accus'd of Parricide and Incest

. It is Somewhere faid of him, that he set fire to his Mother's House, cut her Throat, ravish'd his Sisters, fled into France, pick'd Cardinal Richlieu's Pocket in the King's Presence, return'd to England, robbd 0. liver Cromwell, hang'd a Judge, and was at length taken and executed in Scotland, a little before the Restoration. As most Stories of this Nature are advancd without any good Foundation, but barely upon meer Report, I shall not enter into the Particulars of 'em, nor trouble my Readers with any more Introductions, tho' there be a Story belongiug to Bonny Dundee, for I very much question the Truth of it.

GILDER OY

N 4

ILDERO Y was a bonny Boy,

Had Roses tull his Shoon,
His Stockings made of the finest Silk,

His Garters hanging down:
It were a comely Sight to see,

He were so trim a Boy,
He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,

My handsome Gilderoy.
Oh ! fike a Charming Eyne he had,

A Breath as sweet as Rose,
He never wore a Highland Plad,

But costly filken Cloaths,
He gain'd the Love of Ladies gay,

There's none to him was coy ;
Ah, way is me, ise mourn this Day,

For my dear Gilderoy.
My Gilderoy and I were born

Both in one Town together,
Not passing seven Years ago,

Since one did love each other; Our Daddies and our Mammies both

Were cloath'd with muckle Joy, To think upon the Bridal-Day,

'Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy, that Love of mine,

Gued Faith Ise freely brought, A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,

With filken Flowers wrought,
And he gave me a Wedding-Ring,

Which I receiv'd with Joy,
No Lad or Lasses e'er could sing,

Like me and Gilderoy.
In muckle Joy we spent our time,

Till we were both sixteen,
Then gently he did lay me down,
Among the Leaves so green.

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