We loved when we were children small, To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him, "There came a wind out of the north, "The Queen of Fairies keppit me, "I quit my body when I please, We can inhabit, at our ease, In either earth or air. "Our shapes and size we can convert To either large or small; An old nut-shell's the same to us "We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet, We revel in the stream; We wanton lightly on the wind, "And all our wants are well supplied "This night is Hallowe'en, Janet, And they that wad their true-love win, "The first company that passes by, and it's vicinity. Their memory, therefore, lived in the traditions of the country. Randolph, Earl of Murray, the renowned nephew of Robert Bruce, had a castle at Ha' Guards, in Annandale, and another in Peebles-shire, on the borders of the forest, the site of which is still called Randall's Walls. Patrick of Dunbar, Earl of March, is said, by Henry the Minstrel, to have retreated to Ettrick Forest, after being defeated by Wallace. "First let pass the black, Janet, "For I ride on the milk-white steed, "My right hand will be gloved, Janet, My left hand will be bare; And these the tokens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there. 'They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, But had me fast, let me not pass, "They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, "They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, But haud me fast, let me not pass, "First dip me in a stand o' milk, But had me fast, let me not pass- "And, next, they'll shape me in your arms, But had me fast, nor let me gang, As you do love me weel. "They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, And, last, they'll shape me in your arms Cast your green mantle over me- Gloomy, gloomy, was the night, As fair Janet, in her green mantle, The heavens were black, the night was dark, But Janet stood, with eager wish, Her lover to embrace. Betwixt the hours of twelve and one, A north wind tore the bent; And straight she heard strange elritch sounds Upon that wind which went. About the dead hour o' the night, She heard the bridles ring; And Janet was as glad o' that Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill, And bog-reed, struck the ear; and washing it down with entire hogsheads of liquor. To the depredation of this visiter will thy viands be exposed,' quoth the uncle, until thou shalt abandon fraud and false reckonings. The monk returned in a year. The host having turned over a new leaf, and given Christian measure to his customers, was now a thriving man. When they again inspected the larder, they saw the same spirit, but wofully reduced in size, and in vain attempt*To sin our gifts or mercies, means, ungratefully to holding to reach at the full plates and bottles whcih stood around them in slight esteem. The idea, that the possessions of the wicked are most obnoxious to the depredations of evil spirits, may be illustrated by the following tale of a Buttery Spirit, extracted from Thomas Heywood: An ancient and virtuous monk came to visit his nephew, an innkeeper and after other discourse, inquired into his circumstances. Mine host confessed, that although he practised all the unconscionable tricks of his trade, he was still miserably poor. The monk shook his head, and asked to see his buttery or larder. As they looked into it, he rendered visible to the astonished host an immense goblin, whose paunch and whole appearance, bespoke his being gorged with food, and who, nevertheless, was gormandizing at the inr keeper's expense, emptying whole shelves of food, him; starving, in short, like Tantalus, in the midst of plenty." Honest Heywood sums up the tale thus: "In this discourse, far be it we should mean All such as studie fraud and practise evil, But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts, Of solid sense, or thought that's grave, Fair Janet stood, with mind unmoved, And first gaed by the black black steed, She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed, They shaped him in fair Janet's arms, They shaped him in her arms at last, She wrapt him in her green mantle, Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies, "She that has borrow'd young Tamlane, Has gotten a stately groom.'" Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies, "She's ta'en awa the bonniest knight "But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says, "A lady wad borrow'd thee I wad ta'en out thy twa grey een, "Had I but kenn'd, Tamlane," she says, "Had I but had the wit yestreen I'd paid my kanes seven times to hell ERLINTON. NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. THIS ballad is published from the collation of two copies, obtained from recitation. It seems to be the rode original, or perhaps a corrupt and imperfect copy, of The Child of Elle, a beautiful legendary tale, published in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry. It is singular that this charming ballad should have been translated, or imitated, by the celebrated Bürger, without acknowledgment of the English original. As the Child of Elle avowedly received corrections, we may ascribe its greatest beauties to the poetical taste of the ingenious editor. They are in the true style of Gothic embellishment. We may compare, for example, the following beautiful verse, with the same idea in an old romance : "The baron stroked his dark-brown cheek To wipe away the starting tear, Child of Elle. The heathen Soldan, or Amiral, when about to slay two lovers, relents in a similar manner : Weeping, he turned his heued awai, ERLINTON. ERLINTON had a fair daughter, I wat he weird her in a great sin, An' he has warn'd her sisters six, Or else to seek her morn and e'en. She hadna been i' that bigly bower, Till there was Willie, her ain true love, That chaps sae late, or kens the gin?"¶ "O it is Willie, your ain true love, I pray you rise and let me in!""But in my bower there is a wake, An' at the wake there is a wane ;** But I'll come to the green-wood the morn, Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice, Then she said to her sisters a,' "Maidens, 'tis time for us to rise." She pat on her back a silken gown, He took her sisters by the hand, He kiss'd them baith, and sent them hame, An' he's ta'en his true love him behind, And through the green wood they are gane. When there came fifteen o' the boldest knights The foremost was an aged knight, An' thou shalt walk the woods within."- He lighted aff his milk-white steed, He set his back unto an aik, He set his feet against a stane, Weird her in a great sin-Placed her in danger of committing a great sin. Gin-The slight or trick necessary to open the door; from engine. **Wane-A number of people. An' he has fought these fifteen men, An' a' to carry the tidings hame. I wat he kiss'd her tenderlie; "Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought; Now we shall walk the green-wood free." THE TWA CORBIES. His lady's ta'en another mate, We'll theeks our nest when it grows bare.ll "Mony a one for him makes mane, THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. THE ballad of The Douglas Tragedy is one of the few, to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality. THIS Poem was communicated to me by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq., jun. of Hoddom, as written down, from tradition, by a lady. It is a singular circumstance, that it should coincide so very nearly with the ancient dirge, called, The Three Ravens, published by Mr. Ritson, in his Ancient Songs; and that, at the same time, there should exist such a difference, as to make the one appear rather a counterpart than copy of the other. In order to enable the curious reader to contrast these two singular poems, and to form a judgment which may be the original, I take the liberty of copying the English ballad from Mr. Ritson's Collection, omitting only the burden and repetition of the first line. The learned Editor states it to be given From Ravenscroft's Melismata. Musical Phansics, fitting the Cittie and Country Humours, to 3, 4, and 5 Voyces," London, 1611, 4to. "It will be obvious," continues Mr. Ritson, that this ballad is much older, not only than the date of the book, but most of the other pieces contained in it." The music is given with the words, and adapt-cular turret at one angle, for carrying up the stairThe tower appears to have been square, with a cired to four voices : There were three rauens sat on a tre, They were as blacke as they might be : The one of them said to his mate, "Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a knight slain under his shield; "His hounds they lie downe at his feete, "His haukes they flie so eagerlie, "Down there comes a fallow doe, "She lift up his bloudy hed, And kist his wounds that were so red. "She buried him before the prime, She was dead herselfe ere euen song time. "God send euery gentleman, Such haukes, such houndes, and such a leman." Ancient Songs, 1792, p. 155. have been the scene of this melancholy event. There case, and for flanking the entrance. It is said to have derived its name of Blackhouse from the complexion of the Lords of Douglas, whose swarthy hue was a family attribute. But, when the high mountains, by which it is enclosed, were covered with heather, which was the case till of late years, Blackhouse must also have merited its appellation from the appearance of the scenery. From this ancient tower, Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighbouring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, as marking the spot where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas burn is averred to have been the stream, at which the lovers stopped to drink; so minute is tradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event. Many copies of this ballad are current among the vulgar, but chiefly in a state of great corruption; especially such as have been committed to the press in the shape of penny pamphlets. One of these is now before me, which, among many others, has the ridiculous error of "blue gilded horn," for "bugelet horn." The copy, principally used in this edition of I have seen a copy of this dirge much modernized. the ballad, was supplied by Mr. Sharpe. THE TWA CORBIES.* As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; "In behint yon auld failt dyke, The three last verses are given from the printed copy, and from tradition. The hackneyed verse, of the rose and the brier springing from the grave of the lovers, is common to most tragic ballads; but it is introduced into this with singular propriety, as the chapel of St. Mary, whose vestiges may be still traced upon the lake to which it has given name, is said to have been the burial-place of Lord William and Fair Margaret. The wrath of the Black Douglas, which vented itself upon the brier, far surpasses the usual stanza : "At length came the clerk of the parish, + Fail-Turf. 1 Hause-Neck. § Theek-Thatch. "We'll theek our nest-it's a' blawn bare." [Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq.] rials for this work, the farm of Blackhouse was tenanted by the **[At the time when Sir Walter Scott was collecting the mate THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 60 RISE UP, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, "Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 46 Come riding o'er the lee. Light down, light down, Lady Margret," he said, And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I make a stand." She held his steed in her milk-white hand, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear. O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, ̧ But a father I can never get mair." O, she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, That were redder than the wine. 66 O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?" "I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down. They lighted down to tak a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear: And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, "Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain!" ""Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.". O they rade on, and on they rade, Until they cam to his mother's ha' door, "Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, Lady Margret in Marie's quire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And they twa met, and they twa plat, But bye and rade the Black Douglas, YOUNG BENJIE. NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lkyewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful, by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover around its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to, unless the deceased is suspected to have suffered foul play, as it is called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner, because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is, setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account, the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar, while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open, or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it. The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door ajar. In former times, a man and his wife lived in a solitary cottage, on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband died suddenly; and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started up, and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascination of the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead man ought to do. The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady,t of the highest literary eminence, that she has heard a ballad on the same subject, in which the scene was laid upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was, "O Bothwell banks bloom bonny," and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in Bothwell church. [Mr. Motherwell gives in his "Minstrelsy." 1827, a copy of this ballad, as usually recited in the West of Scotland; but the variations it supplies are trivial, and all for the worse.-ED.] [Miss Joanna Baillie-who was born at Long Calderwood, near Bothwell.-ED.] YOUNG BENJIE. Or a' the maids o' fair Scotland, And young Benjie was her ae true love, And wow but they were lovers dear, But aye the mair when they fell out, And they hae quarrell'd on a day, And he was stout, and proud-hearted, And he's gane by the wan moonlight, "O open, open, my true love, O open, and let me in!"- My three brothers are within."- Sae loud's I hear ye lie; As I came by the Lowden banks, But I'll come down to thee."- And threw her o'er the linn. The stream was strang, the maid was stout, But, ere she wan the Lowden banks, Then up bespak her eldest brother, Out then spak her eldest brother, "O how shall we her ken ?"- Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse, The morn her burial day, And we maun watch at mirk midnight, Wi' doors ajar, and candle light, The cocks began to craw; "O whae has done the wrang, sister, Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout, 1 Plea-Used obliquely for dispute. Stout, through this whole ballad, except in one instance (stanza 10,) signifies haughty. A Sets ye-Becomes you-ironical. Dang-Defeated. |