JOHN. He's lifted his brother upon his back, He's washed his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, "Tak ye aff my Holland sark,a He's taken aff his Holland sark, He's row it in his bluidy wounds, "Tak now aff me green mantle, e And tak me up to yon kirk' style, Whare the grass grows fair and green." He's taken aff the green mantle, And rowed him saftly in; He's laid him down by yon kirk style,. "What will WILLIAM.-"I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, JOHN." O no, O no, my brother dear, But say that I'm gaen to a foreign land, When he sat in his father's chair MOTHER." O what blude a 's that upon your brow? O dear son, tell to me." WILLIAM." It is the blude o' my good gray steedHe wadna ride wi' me." MOTHER. "O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, O what blude's that upon your cheek? WILLIAM." It is the blude of my grey hound, MOTHER." O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red, O what blude's this upon your hand? WILLIAM.-"It is the blude of my gay goss hawk, MOTHER." O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me. O what blude's this upon your dirk? Dear Willie, tell to me.' WILLIAM." It is the blude of my aeb brother; WILLIAM.-"I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride, To dwell in some far countrie." MOTHER. "O when will ye come hame again? WILLIAM.—“ When sun and mune leap on yon hill ; a Blood. b One-only. c Sorrow. d Woe. She turned hersel' right round about, And my tother ane I'll ne'er see." OLD BALLAD. THE CHILD OF ELLE. ON yonder hill a castle stands, The child of Elle to his garden went, When, lo! he beheld fair Emmeline's page Come trippinge downe the dale. The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, b Y-wis he stoode not stille; And soon he mette faire Emmeline's page Come climbing up the hille. "Nowe sain thee and save thee, thou little foot-page, Nowe welcome art thou to me; Oh, tell me how does thy ladye gaye, And what may thy tydinges be?" "My lady she is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadlye feude Between her house and thine. "And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe, And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her, "And here she sends thee a ring of golde, "For, ah! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave soone must shee be, Sith her father hath chose her a new new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. "Her father hath brought her a carlisha knighte, Sir John, of the north countraye; And within three dayes shee must him wedde, Or he vowes he will her slaye." "Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And tell her that I, her owne true love, "Now hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know, This night will I bee at her bowre1 windowe, The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, "O ladye, I've been with thy own true love, This night will he be at thy bowre-windowe, Nowe day was gone, and night was come, All save the ladye Emmeline, Who sate in her bowre to weepe: And soon she heard her true love's voice "Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come mount this faire palfraye; EMMELINE. "Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knighte, For aye should I tinta my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee." KNIGHT." O ladye, thou with a knighte so true To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, EMMELINE." My father he is a baron bolde, a Lose. |