Which when her Uncle understood, He hop'd it would be for her good, And gave Consent to her straitway, That with him the fhould come away.

When she was got her Love behind,
They pafs'd as fwift 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 fame his Head about :

And unto him she thus did fay,
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 faw him more:
I'll fet the Horfe 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, fhe then reply'd ;
Who wonder'd much her Voice to hear,
And was poffefs'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 fend for me,

By fuch a Messenger, faid fhe;

Which made his Hair ftare 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, faid he, and go to Bed,
I'll fee the Horfe well littered.

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

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

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 fhe ftill did fay,
'Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard, they were amaz'd,
And on each other ftrangely gaz'd.

A Handkerchief fhe faid the 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 fo terrified

And grieved, that the quickly died.

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.

XXXIX. The Scotch Lover's Lamentation : Or, Gilderoy's laft Farewell.

There is nothing wanting tomake 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 fhall clofe my Collection with 'em. The Hero of the following Ballad cannot be recorded very much to his Praife, for befides Robberies and common Murders, he is accus'd of Parricide and Inceft. It is fomewhere faid of him, that he fet fire to his Mother's Houfe, cut her Throat, ravish'd his Sifters, fled into France, pick'd Cardinal Richlieu's Pocket in the King's Prefence, return'd to England, robb'd Oliver 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 advanc'd 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 belonging to Bonny Dundee, for I very much question the Truth of it.

N 4

GILDEROY

Ꮐ

ILDEROY was a bonny Boy,

G'Had Rofes tull his Shoon,

His Stockings made of the finest Silk,
His Garters hanging down:

It were a comely Sight to fee,
He were so trim a Boy,

He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,
My handfome Gilderoy.

Oh! fike a Charming Eyne he had,
A Breath as fweet as Rose,
He never wore a Highland Plad,
But coftly filken Cloaths,

He gain'd the Love of Ladies gay,
There's none to him was coy;
Ah, way is me, ife mourn this Day,
For my dear Gilderoy.

My Gilderoy and I were born

Both in one Town together, Not paffing 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 Ife freely brought,
A Wedding-fark of Holland fine,
With filken Flowers wrought,
And he gave me a Wedding-Ring,
Which I receiv'd with Joy,
No Lad or Laffes e'er could fing,
Like me and Gilderoy.

In muckle Joy we spent our time,

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

When