The crafty boy that sees her sleep,
Whom if she wak'd he durst not see;
Behind her closely seeks to creep,
Before her nap should ended bee.

There come, he steals her shafts away,
And puts his own into their place;
Nor dares he any longer stay,

But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace.

Scarce was he gone, but she awakes,
And spies the shepherd standing by:
Her bended bow in haste she takes,
And at the simple swain lets flye.

Forth flew the shaft, and pierc'd his heart,
That to the ground he fell with pain :
Yet up again forthwith he start,

And to the nymph he ran amain.

Amazed to see so strange a sight,

She shot, and shot, but all in vain ;

The more his wounds, the more his might,
Love yielded strength amidst his pain.

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Her angry eyes were great with tears,

She blames her hand, she blames her skill;

The bluntness of her shafts she fears,
And try them on herself she will.

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Take heed, sweet nymph, trye not thy shaft,
Each little touch will pierce thy heart :
Alas! thou know'st not Cupids craft;
Revenge is joy; the end is smart.

Yet try she will, and pierce some bare;
Her hands were glov'd, but next to hand
Was that fair breast, that breast so rare,
That made the shepherd senseless stand.

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That breast she pierc'd; and through that breast 45 Love found an entry to her heart;

At feeling of this new-come guest,

Lord! how this gentle nymph did start!

She runs not now; she shoots no more;

Away she throws both shaft and bow:
She seeks for what she shunn'd before,

She thinks the shepherds haste too slow.
Though mountains meet not, lovers may :
What other lovers do, did they :

The god of love sate on a tree,
And laught that pleasant sight to see.

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XI.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

THIS little moral poem was writ by Sir Henry Wotton, who died Provost of Eton in 1639. Et. 72. It is printed from a little collection of his pieces, intitled, "Reliquiæ Wottonianæ," 1651, 12mo; compared with one or two other copies.

How happy is he born or taught,
That serveth not anothers will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his highest skill:

Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepar❜d for death;
Not ty'd unto the world with care
Of princes ear, or vulgar breath :

Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat :
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruine make oppressors great :

Who envies none, whom chance doth raise,
Or vice: Who never understood
How deepest wounds are given with praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

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Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertaines the harmless day
With a well-chosen book or friend.

This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or feare to fall;
Lord of himselfe, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

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XII.

GILDEROY

-was a famous robber, who lived about the middle of the last century, if we may credit the histories and story-books of highwaymen, which relate many improbable feats of him, as his robbing Cardinal Richlieu, Oliver Cromwell, &c. But these stories have probably no other authority, than the records of Grub-street: At least the Gilderoy, who is the hero of Scottish Songsters, seems to have lived in an earlier age; for, in Thompson's "Orpheus Caledonius," Vol. ii. 1733, 8vo. is a copy of this ballad,which, tho' corrupt and interpolated, contains some lines that appear to be of genuine antiquity: in these he is represented as contemporary with Mary Q. of Scots': ex. gr. "The Queen of Scots possessed nought, That my love let me want:

For cow and ew to me he brought,

And ein whan they were scant."

These lines perhaps might safely have been inserted among the following stanzas, which are given from a written copy, that appears to have received some modern corrections. Indeed the common popular ballad contained some indecent luxuriances that required the pruning-hook.

GILDEROY was a bonnie boy,
Had roses tull his shoone,
His stockings were of silken soy,
Wi' garters hanging doune :

It was, I weene, a comelie sight,
To see sae trim a boy ;

He was my jo and hearts delight,
My handsome Gilderoy.

Oh! sike twa charming een he had,

A breath as sweet as rose,

He never ware a Highland plaid,

But costly silken clothes;

He gain'd the luve of ladies gay,
Nane eir tull him was coy:

Ah! wae is mee! I mourn the day
For my dear Gilderoy.

My Gilderoy and I were born,
Baith in one toun together,

We scant were seven years beforn,

We gan to luve each other;

Our dadies and our mammies thay,
Were fill'd wi' mickle joy,
To think upon the bridal day,
Twixt me and Gilderoy.

For Gilderoy that luve of mine,
Gude faith, I freely bought
A wedding sark of holland fine,
Wi' silken flowers wrought:
And he gied me a wedding ring,
Which I receiv'd wi' joy,
Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing,
Like me and Gilderoy.

Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime,
Till we were baith sixteen,
And aft we past the langsome time,
Among the leaves sae green;

Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair,
And sweetly kiss and toy,
Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair
My handsome Gilderoy.

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Oh that he still had been content,
Wi' me to lead his life;

But, ah! his manfu' heart was bent,
To stir in feates of strife:

And he in many a venturous deed,

His courage bauld wad try;

And now this gars mine heart to bleed,
For my dear Gilderoy.

gave tull him a parting luik,

"My benison gang wi' thee;

God speed thee weil, mine ain dear heart,
For gane is all my joy;

My heart is rent sith we maun part,

My handsome Gilderoy."

My Gilderoy baith far and near,

Was fear'd in every toun,

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And bauldly bare away the gear,
Of many a lawland loun:

Nane eir durst meet him man to man,
He was sae brave a boy;

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At length wi' numbers he was tane,
My winsome Gilderoy.

Wae worth the loun that made the laws,

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To hang a man for gear,

To 'reave of life for ox or ass,

For sheep, or horse, or mare:

Had not their laws been made sae strick,

I neir had lost my joy,

Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek,
For my dear Gilderoy.

Giff Gilderoy had done amisse,
He mought hae banisht been;

Ah! what sair cruelty is this,
To hang sike handsome men :