CHILD NORYCE.
From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 282.
"By testimony of a most unexceptionable description,—but which it would be tedious here to detail,—the Editor can distinctly trace this ballad as existing in its present shape at least a century ago, which carries it decidedly beyond the date of the first printed copy of Gil Morice; and this with a poem which has been preserved but by oral tradition, is no mean positive antiquity."
In the Introduction to his collection, Motherwell mentions his having found a more complete copy of this ballad under the title of Babe Nourice.
Child Noryce is a clever young man,
He wavers wi' the wind;
His horse was silver shod before,
With the beaten gold behind.
He called to his little man John,5
Saying, "You don't see what I see;
For O yonder I see the very first woman
That ever loved me.
"Here is a glove, a glove," he said,
"Lined with the silver gris;10
You may tell her to come to the merry green wood,
To speak to Child Nory.
"Here is a ring, a ring," he says,
"It's all gold but the stane;
You may tell her to come to the merry green wood,15
And ask the leave o' nane."
"So well do I love your errand, my master,
But far better do I love my life;
O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's castel,
To betray away his wife?"20