APPENDIX.

YOUNG HUNTING. See p. 3.

From Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i. 118.

LADY MAISRY forth from her bower came,

And stood on her tower head;

She thought she heard a bridle ring,
The sound did her heart guid.

She thought it was her first true love,

Whom she loved ance in time;

But it was her new love, Hunting,

Come frae the hunting o' the hyn'.

"Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
God make you safe and free!

I'm come to take my last farewell,
And pay my last visit to thee."

"O stay, O stay then, young Hunting,

O stay with me this night;

Ye shall ha'e cheer, an' charcoal clear,

And candles burning bright.

"Have no more cheer, you lady fair, An hour langer for me;

I have a lady in Garmouth town

I love better than thee."

"O if your love be changed, my love,

Since better canno' be, Nevertheless, for auld lang syne, Ye'll stay this night wi' me.

“Silver, silver shall be your wage,
And gowd shall be your fee;
And nine times nine into the year,
Your weed shall changed be.

"Will ye gae to the cards or dice,

Or to a tavern fine?

Or will ye gae to a table forebye,

And birl baith beer and wine?"

"I winna gang to the cards nor dice, Nor to a tavern fine;

But I will gang to a table forebye,

And birl baith beer and wine."

Then she has drawn for young Hunting

The beer but and the wine,

Till she got him as deadly drunk

As ony unhallowed swine.

Then she's ta'en out a trusty brand,

That hang below her gare;

Then she's wounded him, young Hunting,

A deep wound and a sair.

Then out it speaks her comrade,

Being in the companie:

20

25

80

35

40

45

"Alas! this deed that ye ha'e done, Will ruin baith you and me."

"Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,
Heal well this deed on me ;

The robes that were shapen for my bodie,
They shall be sewed for thee."

"Tho' I wou'd heal it never sae well,

And never sae well," said she, "There is a God above us baith, That can baith hear and see."

They booted him and spurred him,
As he'd been gaun to ride;

A hunting-horn about his neck,
A sharp sword by his side.

And they rode on, and farther on,
All the lang summer's tide,
Until they came to wan water,
Where a' man ca's it Clyde.

The deepest pot in Clyde's water,
There they flang him in,

And put a turf on his breast bane,

To had young Hunting down.

O out it speaks a little wee bird,

As she sat on the brier:

“Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry, And pay your maiden's hire."

65, And the. 66, And there. See 133, 134.