But when he saw the ladye safe,
And her yetts a' lockit fast,
He fell into a rage o wrath,
And his look was all aghast.

"Come doun to me, ye ladye gay,
Come doun, come doun to me;
This nicht ye'll lie within my arms,
The morn my bride shall be."

"I winna come doun, ye fause Gordon,
I winna come doun to thee;
I winna forsake my ain dear lord,
That is sae far frae me."

"Gi'e owre your house, ye ladye fair,
Gi'e owre your house to me;
Or I sall burn yoursel' therein,
But and your babies three."

"I winna gi'e owre, ye fause Gordon,
To nae sic traitor as ye;

And if ye burn my ain dear babes,
My lord shall mak' ye dree.

"But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,
And charge ye weel my gun;

For, but if I pierce that bloody butcher,
My babes may live undone."

She stude upon her castle wa',

And let twa bullets flee;

She mist the bloody butcher's heart,

And only razed his knee.

"Set fire to the house!" quo' the fause Gordon,

All wud wi' dule and ire;

"Fause ladye! ye shall rue that shot,

As ye birsle in the fire."

"Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man,

I paid ye weel your fee;

Why pu' ye out the grund-wa-stane,

Lets in the reek to me?

"And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man,

I paid you weel your hire;

Why pu' ye out the grund-wa-stane,
To me lets in the fire?"

"Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,
Ye paid me weel my fee;

But noo I'm Edom o' Gordon's man,
Maun either do or dee."

'Twas then outspak her youngest son,
Sat on the nurse's knee;

Says, "Mither dear, gi'e owre the house,
For the reek it smothers me."

“I wad gie a' my gowd, my bairn,
Sae wad I a' my fee,

For a'e blast o' the wastlin' wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee!"

'Twas then outspak her dochter dear

66

She was baith jimp and sma'—

"O row me in a pair o' sheets,

And tow me owre the wa'."

They row'd her in a pair o' sheets,
And tow'd her owre the wa';
But on the point o' Gordon's spear
She got a deadly fa'.

O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,
And cheery were her cheeks;
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,
Whereon the red bluid dreeps.

Then wi' his spear he turn'd her owre,
O but her face was wan!

He said, "You are the first that e'er
I wish'd alive again."

He turn'd her owre and owre again,
O but her skin was white!

"I might hae spared that bonnie face,
To hae been some man's delight."

"Back and boun, my merrie men a',
For ill dooms I do guess ;

I canna look on that bonnie face,
As it lies on the grass!

"Wha looks to freits,* my master dear,

It's freits will follow him;

Let it ne'er be said brave Edom o' Gordon Was daunted by a dame."

But when the ladye saw the fire

Come flaming owre her head,

She wept, and kiss'd her children twain,
Said, "
Bairns, we be but dead."

The Gordon then his bugle blew,

And cried, "Awa'! awa'!

The house o' the Rodes is a' in a flame,
I hauld it time to ga."

O then she spied her ain dear lord

As he cam' owre the lea;

He saw his castle a' in a lowe,

Sae far as he could see.

* Omens.

'Twas sair, O sair his mind misgave,
And O, his heart was wae ;
"Put on, put on, my michty men,
As fast as ye can gae.

"Put on, put on, my michty men,

As fast as she can drie ;

For he that is hindmost o' the thrang
Sall ne'er get gude o' me!"

Then some they rade, and some they ran,
Fu' fast out ower the bent;

But ere the foremost could win up,
Baith ladye and babes were brent.

He wrang his hands, he rent his hair,
And wept in waefu' mood;

66

'Ah, traitors! for this cruel deed,

Ye sall weep tears o' bluid."

And after the Gordon he has gane,

Sae fast as he might drie.

And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's bluid,

And mony were the buirdly men

Lay gasping on the green; And mony were the fair ladies Lay lemanless at hame.

And mony were the buirdly men
Lay gasping on the green;
For o' fifty men the Gordon brocht,
There were but five gaed hame.

* Revenged.

O round and round the wa's he went,
Their ashes for to view;

At last into the flames he ran

And bade the world adieu.

The Twa Corbies.

This brief but striking ballad is from Scott's Border Minstrelsy; and the fuller version subjoined, evidently a more modern composition, is from Motherwell's collection. There is an English copy printed by Ritson entitled "The Three Ravens," but the Scotch versions have the advantage of the English in point of graphic force and realistic horror.

As I was walking all alane

I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the tither did say,
"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"

"In behint yon auld fael dyke

I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,

So we may mak' our dinner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pick out his bonny blue e'en ;
Wi' a'e lock o' his gowden hair

We'll theck our nest when it grows bare.