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We loved when we were children small,
Which yet you well may mind.
"When I was a boy just turn'd of nine,
My uncle sent for me,

To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him,
And keep him companie.

"There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell;
And a deep sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell.

"The Queen of Fairies keppit me,
In yon green hill to dwell;
And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb;
Fair ladye, view me well.
"But we, that live in Fairy-land,
No sickness know, nor pain;
I quit my body when I will,
And take to it again.

"I quit my body when I please,
Or unto it repair;

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
As is the lofty hall.

"We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet, We revel in the stream;

We wanton lightly on the wind,
Or glide on a sunbeam.

"And all our wants are well supplied
From every rich man's store,
Who thankless sins the gifts he gets,
And vainly grasps for more.*
"Then would I never tire, Janet,
In Elfish land to dwell;
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear 'twill be mysell.

"This night is Hallowe'en, Janet,
The morn is Hallowday;
And, gin ye dare your true love win,
Ye hae nae time to stay.
"The night it is good Hallowe'en,
When fairy folk will ride;

And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide."—
"But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?
Or how shall I thee knaw,
Amang so many unearthly knights,
The like I never saw ?"-

"The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I'll be ane o' thae.

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,
And syne let pass the brown;
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pu' the rider down.

"For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town;
Because I was a christen'd knight,
They gave me that renown.

"My right hand will be gloved, Janet, My left hand will be bare;

And these the tokens I gie thee,

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Nae doubt I will be there.

'They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;

But had me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye wad buy me maik.f

"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and an ask;

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A balet that burns fast.

"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A red-hot gad o' airn;

But haud me fast, let me not pass,
For I'll do you no harm.

"First dip me in a stand o' milk,
And then in a stand o' water;

But had me fast, let me not pass-
I'll be your bairn's father.

"And, next, they'll shape me in your arms,
A tod, but and an eel;

But had me fast, nor let me gang,

As you do love me weel.

"They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove, but and a swan;

And, last, they'll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man:

Cast your green mantle over me-
I'll be myself again."-

Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
And eirys was the way,

As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae.

The heavens were black, the night was dark,
And dreary was the place;

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
As any earthly thing.

Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill,
The hemlock small blew clear;
And louder notes from hemlock large,

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
Spirits by meat are fatted made, or lean;
Yet certain 'tis by God's permission, they
May, over goods extorted, bear like sway.

All such as studie fraud and practise evil,
Do only starve themselves to plume the devil."
Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels, p. 877.
Maik--A Match; a Companion. 1 Bale-A fagot.
Eiry-Producing superstitious dread.

But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts,
The Fairies cannot bear.
They sing, inspired with love and joy,
Like skylarks in the air:

Of solid sense, or thought that's grave,
You'll find no traces there.

Fair Janet stood, with mind unmoved,
The dreary heath upon;
And louder, louder wax'd the sound,
As they came riding on.
Will o' Wisp before them went,
Sent forth a twinkling light;
And soon she saw the Fairy bands
All riding in her sight.

And first gaed by the black black steed,
And then gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
And pu'd the rider down.

She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa';
And up there raise an erlish cry-
"He's won amang us a'!"-

They shaped him in fair Janet's arms,
An esk, but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape-
To be her bairn's father.

They shaped him in her arms at last,
A mother-naked man:

She wrapt him in her green mantle,
And sae her true love wan!

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out o' a bush o' broom-

"She that has borrow'd young Tamlane, Has gotten a stately groom.'"

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out o' a bush o' rye-

"She's ta'en awa the bonniest knight
In a' my cumpanie.

"But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says, "A lady wad borrow'd thee

I wad ta'en out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o' tree.

"Had I but kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"Before ye came frae hame-
I wad ta'en out your heart o' flesh
Put in a heart o' stane.

"Had I but had the wit yestreen
That I hae coftt the day-

I'd paid my kanes seven times to hell
Ere you'd been won away!"

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
And turned his face aside,

To wipe away the starting tear,
He proudly strove to hide!"

Child of Elle.

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The heathen Soldan, or Amiral, when about to slay two lovers, relents in a similar manner :

Weeping, he turned his heued awai,
And his swerde hit fell to grounde."
Florice and Blanche flour.

ERLINTON.

ERLINTON had a fair daughter,

I wat he weird her in a great sin,
For he has built a bigly bower,
An' a' to put that lady in.

An' he has warn'd her sisters six,
An' sae has he her brethren se'en,
Outher to watch her a' the night,

Or else to seek her morn and e'en.

She hadna been i' that bigly bower,
Na not a night but barely ane,

Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Chapp'd at the door, cryin', "Peace within !"-
"O whae is this at my bower door,

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,
Whar blooms the brier, by mornin' dawn."-
Then she's gane to her bed again,

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,
An' on her breast a siller pin,
An' she's ta'en a sister in ilka hand,
And to the green-wood she is gane.
She hadna walk'd in the green-wood,
Na not a mile but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Wha frae her sisters has her ta'en.

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.
They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood,
Na not a mile but barely ane,

When there came fifteen o' the boldest knights
That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.

The foremost was an aged knight,
He wore the grey hair on his chin,
Says, "Yield to me thy lady bright,

An' thou shalt walk the woods within."-
"For me to yield my lady bright
To such an aged knight as thee,
People wad think I war gane mad,
Or a' the courage flown frae me.'
But up then spake the second knight,
I wat he spake right boustouslie,
"Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,
Or here the tane of us shall die."-
My lady is my warld's meed:
My life I winna yield to nane;
But if ye be men of your manhead,
Ye'll only fight me ane by ane."

He lighted aff his milk-white steed,
An' gae his lady him by the head,
Say'n," See ye dinna change your cheer,
Until ye see my body bleed."

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' killed them a' but barely ane:
For he has left that aged knight,

An' a' to carry the tidings hame.
When he gaed to his lady fair,

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,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,+
And I'll pick out his bonny blue een:
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair,

We'll theeks our nest when it grows bare.ll

"Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane:
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.".

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,
"Where shall we our breakfast take?"

"Downe in yonder greene field,

There lies a knight slain under his shield;

"His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they their master keepe;

"His haukes they flie so eagerlie,
There's no fowle dare come him nie.

"Down there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.

"She lift up his bloudy hed,

And kist his wounds that were so red.
"She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.

"She buried him before the prime,

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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
The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to
are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to
the farmhouse, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a
torrent, named Douglas burn, which joins the Yar-
row, after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas
craig. This wild scene, now a part of the Traquair
of the renowned family of Douglas; for Sir John
estate, formed one of the most ancient possessions
las, is said to have sat, as baronial lord of Douglas
Douglas, eldest son of William, the first Lord Doug-
burn, during his father's lifetime, in a parliament of
vol. i. p. 20.
Malcolm Canmore, held at Forfar.-GODSCROFT,

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;
The tane unto the t'other say,
"Where sall we gang and dine to-day."-

"In behint yon auld failt dyke,
I wot their 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,
["Any person who has read the Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border with attention, must have observed what a singular de-
gree of interest and feeling the simple ballad of The Twa Cor-
bies' impresses upon the mind, which is rather increased than di-
minished by the unfinished state in which the story is left. It
appears as if the bard had found his powers of description inade-
quate to a detail of the circumstances attending the fatal catastro-
phe, without suffering the interest already roused to subside, and
had artfully consigned it over to the fancy of every reader to paint
it what way he chose; or else that he lamented the untimely fate
of a knight, whose base treatment he durst not otherwise make

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,
As you the truth shall hear,
And by mischance he cut them down,
Or else they had still been there."***
known than in that short parabolical dialogue. That the original
is not improved in the following ballad, (Sir David Græme,') will
to acknowledge, that the idea was suggested to me by reading the
too manifestly appear upon perusal. I think it, however, but just
"Twa Corbies."-HoGG's Mountain Bard, third edition, p. 4.-
ED.]

+ Fail-Turf. 1 Hause-Neck.
Various rending-

§ 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

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THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY.

60 RISE UP, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
"And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.

"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your younger sister,
For your eldest's awa' the last night."

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,

With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.

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,

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Until that against your seven brethren bold,

And your father, I make a stand."

She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,

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,
"For you have left me no other guide."

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,

With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.

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,
And sare she 'gan to fear.

"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,
And a' by the light of the moon,

Until they cam to his mother's ha' door,
And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
64 Get up, and let me in!-

Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
"For this night my fair lady I've win.

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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 out of the knight's a brier.

And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near:
And a' the warld might ken right weel,
They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And vow but he was rough!
For be pull'd up the bonny brier,,
And flang'd in St. Marie's Loch.*

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,
The fairest was Marjorie;

And young Benjie was her ae true love,
And a dear true love was he.

And wow but they were lovers dear,
And loved fu' constantlie;

But aye the mair when they fell out,
The sairer was their plea.+

And they hae quarrell'd on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae;
And she said she'd chuse another luve,
And let young Benjie gae.

And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie;

And he's gane by the wan moonlight,
To meet his Marjorie.

"O open, open, my true love,

O open, and let me in!"-
"I darena open, young Benjie,

My three brothers are within."-
"Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,

Sae loud's I hear ye lie;

As I came by the Lowden banks,
They bade gude e'en to me.
"But fare ye weel, my ae fause love
That I have loved sae lang!
It sets yell chuse another love,
And let young Benjie gang.'
Then Marjorie turn'd her round about,
The tear blinding her ee,-
"I darena, darena let thee in,

But I'll come down to thee."-
Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
"O what ill hae I done?"-
He took her in his armis twa,

And threw her o'er the linn.

The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
And laith laith to be dang, T

But, ere she wan the Lowden banks,
Her fair colour was wan.

Then up bespak her eldest brother,
"O see na ye what I see?"-
And out then spak her second brother,
"It's our sister Marjorie!"-

Out then spak her eldest brother,

"O how shall we her ken ?"-
And out then spak her youngest brother,
"There's a honey mark on her chin."

Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse,
And laid it on the ground-
"O wha has killed our ae sister,
And how can he be found?
"The night it is her low lykewake,

The morn her burial day,

And we maun watch at mirk midnight,
And hear what she will say.".

Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,
And torches burning clear,
The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
They waked, but naething hear.
About the middle o' the night,

The cocks began to craw;
And at the dead hour o' the night,
The corpse began to thraw.

"O whae has done the wrang, sister,
Or dared the deadly sin?

Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout,
As thraw ye o'er the linn ?"—

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.

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