"I wadna pity your poor steed,
Tho' it were tied to a thorn;
For if you would gain my love the nicht,
Ye wad slicht me ere the morn.

"For I ken ye by your weel-buskit hat,
And your merry twinkling e'e,
That ye're the laird o' the Oakland hills,
An' ye may weel seem for to be."

"O I'm not the laird o' the Oakland hills,
Ye're far mista'en o' me;

But I'm ane o' the men about his house,
And richt aft in his companie."

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;

He's laid her doun by the ewe-bucht wa',
And speired at her sma' leave.

O he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd,
And streeked her yellow hair;

"Now, tak' ye that, my bonnie, bonnie May, O' me till ye hear mair."

Then he lap on his berry brown steed

And he rade after his men,

And ane an' a' cried out to him,

"O, master, ye've tarried lang!"

"O I've been east, an' I've been west,
And I've been far ower the knowes,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw,
Is i' the bucht milking the ewes."

She's ta'en her milk-pail on her head,
And she's gane singing hame;

"O whaur hae ye been, my a'e dochter ?
Ye hae na been your lane."

"O naebody was wi' me, father,
O naebody has been wi' me;
The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
Ye may gang to the door an' see.

"But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,
And an ill death may ye dee;

He loves the bucht at the back o' the knowe,

And a tod has frichted me.

"There cam' a tod to the ewe-bucht door,

The like I never saw,

And ere he had taken the lamb he did,
I had loured* he had ta'en them a'."

When twenty weeks were come an' gane,
Twenty weeks an' three,

The lassie begoud to look thin an' pale,
And thought lang for his twinkling e'e.

It fell on a day, on a het summer day,
She was ca'in' out her kye,
She spied a troop o' gentlemen,
A' merrillie riding bye.

"Weel may ye save an' see, bonnie May, Weel may ye save an' see,

I wat ye be a very bonnie May,

But wha's aucht that babe ye are wi'?"

Never a word did the lassie say,

For never a ane could she blame, And never a word did the lassie say, But, "I hae a gudeman at hame."

* Rather.

"Ye lee, ye lee, my weel-faured May,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee ;

For dinna you mind yon misty nicht
I was in the bucht wi' thee.

"I ken you by your middle sae jimp,
And your merrie twinkling e'e,

Ye're the bonnie lass o' the Cowdenknowes,
And ye may weel seem to be."

He's lichted aff his berry brown steed,
And he's set that fair May on:

"Ca' out your kye, gude father, yoursel',
I'll ne'er ca' them out again.'

"It's I am the laird o' the Oakland hills,

I hae thirty ploughs an' three,
And I hae gotten the bonniest May
That's in a' the south countrie."

Barbara Allan.

This-one of the simplest and most affecting of balladscontains perhaps less superfluous language than almost any like composition in our literature. Still, the few simple verses tell the love-tragedy of Sir John Grahame and Barbara Allan so completely as to leave nothing untold that the reader would care to know. The composition is of great antiquity, and there is literally nothing known of its history. Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe supposes Annan, in Dumfriesshire, to have been the scene of the story, and says that the peasantry of Annandale sang more verses of the ballad than have appeared in print. It may be mentioned that Bishop Percy in his Ancient Songs and Ballads gives an extended version of the same story under the extended title of "Barbara Allan's Cruelty; or, the Young Man's Tragedy." In this arrangement "Scarlet

Town is named as the residence of the heroine, and "Jemmye Grove" is substituted for Sir John Grahame, but the whole seems a fabrication on the briefer and older set. The air to which the ballad is sung is beautiful and expressive, and is considered to be of an age equal to the poetry. Read or sung, the second last verse of this ballad never fails in the purpose of rare effect

"She hadna gane a mile but twa,

When she heard the deid-bell knellin',
And every jow that the deid-bell gi'ed,
It cried Woe to Barbara Allan !""

There is an eerieness expressed in the last two lines that fastens itself in the mind of the hearer, and will scarcely pass away.

IT was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a-fallin',
That Sir John Grahame, in the west countrie,
Fell in love wi' Barbara Allan.

He sent his man down through the town,
To the place where she was dwallin'.
"O, haste and come to my master, dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan."

O, hooly, hooly rose she up

To the place where he was lyin',
And when she drew the curtain by,
"Young man, I think ye're dyin'."

"It's oh, I'm sick, I'm very, very sick,

And it's a' for Barbara Allan ;'
'O, the better for me ye'se never be,

Though your heart's bluid were a-spillin'.'

"O, dinna

ye

mind, young man,

" she said,

"When ye the cups were fillin',

That ye made the healths gae round and round,

And slichtit Barbara Allan ?"

He turned his face unto the wa',
And death was with him dealin'-
"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends a',
And be kind to Barbara Allan."

And slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly, slowly left him;
And sighin', said she could not stay
Since death of life had reft him.

She hadna gane a mile but twa,

When she heard the deid-bell knellin';
And every jow that the deid-bell gi'ed,
It cried "Woe to Barbara Allan !"

"O, mother, mother, mak' my bed,
And mak' it saft and narrow;
Since my love died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow."

The kaim o' Mathers.

This graphic and gruesome ballad depicts an incident which is happily almost without a parallel in Scottish history. The story is briefly this. About the middle of the fifteenth century, the Sheriff of Mearns, Melvil of Glenbervie, exercised his authority with so high a hand that the gentlemen of the county complained of his conduct to the King, James I. of Scotland. Baron Barclay of Mathers, in particular, made frequent complaint, tired of which, in a moment of unguarded impatience the King said to him, "Sorra care gif that Shirra were sodden an' suppit in broo !" "As your Majesty pleases," replied Barclay, and instantly withdrew from the royal presence. Coming home in haste he convened a meeting of those gentlemen of the county-Straiton of Laurieston, Wishart of Pitarrow, and Arbuthnot, and others-who were as much dissatisfied with the conduct of the Sheriff as he was himself, and, met in