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They ve slain-the comeliest knight they've slain- Lord William has written a love-letter,
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.'

Put it under his pinion gray;

And he is awa to Southern land
As she sped down yon high high hill,

As fast as wings can gae.
She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,
And in the den spied ten slain men,

And even at the ladye's bour
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.

There grew a flowering birk;

And he sat down and sung théreon
She kissed his cheek, she kaimed his hair,

As she gaed to the kirk.
She searched his wounds all thorough,
She kissed them, till her lips grew red,

And weel he kent that ladye fair
On the dowie houms of Yarrow.

Amang her maidens free;

For the flower, that springs in May morning, "Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear!

Was not sae sweet as she.
For a this breeds but sorrow;
I'll wed ye to a better lord,

He lighted at the ladye's yate,
Than liim ye lost on Yarrow."-

And sat him on a pin;

And sang fu' sweet ihe notes o' love, "O haud your tongue, my father dear! Ye mind me but of sorrow;

Till a' was cosht within. A fairer rose did never bloom

And first he sang a low low note,
Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."

And syne he sang a clear ;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang,

Was -"Your love can no win here."-
THE GAY GOSS-HAWK.

"Feast on, feast on, my maidens a',

The wine flows you amang,,

While I gang to my shot-window, This Ballad is published partly from one, under

And hear yon bonny bird's sang. this title, in Mrs. Brown's Collection, and partly "Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, from a MS. of some antiquity, penes Edit. - The

The sang ye sung yestreen; stanzas appearing to possess most merit, have For weel I ken, by your sweet singing, been selected from each copy.

Ye are frae my true love sen.” "O WALY, waly, my gay goss-hawk,

O first he sang a merry sang, Gin your feathering be sheen!".

And syne he sang a grave; "And waly, waly, my master dear,

And syne he pick'd his feathers gray, Gin ye look pale and lean !

To her the letter gave. "O have ye tint, at tournament,

"Have there a letter from Lord William ; Your sword, or yet your spear ?

He says he's sent ye three; Or mourn ye for the southern lass,

He canna wait your love langer, Whom ye may not win near ?" —

But for your sake he'll die." "I have not tint at tournament,

“Gae bid him bake his bridal bread, My sword nor yet my spear;

And brew his bridal ale ; But sair I mourn for my true love,

And I shall meet him at Mary's kirk, Wi' mony a bitter tear.

Lang, lang ere it be stale." " But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk, The lady's gane to her chamber, Ye can baith speak and flee;

And a moanfu' woman was she; Ye sall carry a letter to my love,

As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash, s Bring an answer back to me.

And were about to die. “ But how sall I your true love find,

"A boon, a boon, my father deir, Or how suld I her know?

A boon I beg of thee!"'I bear a tongue ne'er wi' her spake,

“Ask not that panghty Scottish lord, An eye that ne'er her saw.”

For him you ne'er shall see. "O weel sall ye my true love ken,

But, for your honest askir else, Sae sune as ye her see;

Weel granted it shall be.". For, of a' the flowers of fair England,

"Then, gin I die in Southern land, The fairest flower is she.

In Scotland gar bury me. "The red, that's on my true love's cheek,

"And the first kirk that ye come to, Is like blood-drops on the snaw ;*

Ye's gar the mass be sung; The white, that is on her breast bare,

And the next kirk that ye come to, Like the down o' the white sea-maw.

Ye's gar the bells be rung. “And even at my love's bour-door

"And when ye come to St. Mary's kirk, There grows a flowering birk ;

Ye's tarry there till night." And ye maun sit and sing thereon

And so her father pledgå his word, As she gangs to the kirk.

And so his promise plight. “And four-and-twenty fair ladyes

She has ta'en her to her bigly bour Will to the mass repair ;

As fast as she could fare; But weel may ye my ladye ken,

And she has drank a sleepy draught, The fairest ladye there."

That she bad mix'd wi' care. This simile resembles a passage in a M8. translation of an with Carral O'Daly, despatches in search of him a faithful confiIrish Fairy tale, called The Adventures of Faravia, Princess of dante, who, by her magical art, transforms herself into x hawk, Sortland, and Carral O'Daly, Son of Donogho More O'Daly, and, perching upon the windows of the bard, conveye to him aChiel Bard of Ireland. "Faravia, as she entered her bower. formation of the distress of the Princess of Scotland. cast her looks upon the earth, which was tinged with the blood of In the ancient romance of Sir Tristrem, the simile of the a bird whach a raven had newly killed: Like that snow,' said blood-drops upon snow” likewise occurs :-Fararla, was the complexion of my beloved ; his checks like the sanguine traces thereon whilst the raven recalls to my me.

A bride bright thai ches

As blod opon snoweing." mory the colour of his beautiful locks.'" There is also some resemblance in the conduct of the story, betwixt the ballad and the Cosh-quiet. I Shot-window-a bow-window, tale just quoted. The Princess Faravla, being desperately in love $ Brash-sickness.

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And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,

But they hae banished him, Brown Adam, That was sae bright of blee, *

Frae father and frae mother ; And she seem'd to be as surely dead

And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam, As any one could be.

Frae sister and frae brother. Then spak her cruel step-minnie,

And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam, "Tak ye the burning lead,

The flower o' a' his kin; And drap a drap on her bosome,

And he's bigged a bour in gude green-wood To try if she be dead."

Atween his ladye and him.
They took a drap o' boiling lead,

It fell upon a summer's day,
They drapp'd it on her breast;

Brown Adam he thoughi lang;
Alas! alas!" her father cried,

And, for to hunt some venison,
“She's dead without the priest."

To green wood he wald gang.
She neither chatter'd with her teeth,

He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er,
Nor shiver'd with her chin ;

His bolts and arrows lang;
Alas! alas !” her father cried,..

And he is to the gude green-wood “There is nae breath within."

As fast as he could gang.
Then up arose her seven brethren,

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,
And hew'd to her a bier ;

The bird upon the brier;
They hew'd it frae the solid aik,

And he sent it hame to his ladye,
Laid it o'er wi' silver clear.

Bade her be of gude cheir.
Then up and gat her seven sisters,

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,
And sewed to her a kell ;t

The bird upon the thorn;
And every steek that they put in

And sent it hame to his ladye.

Said he'd be hame the morn.
Sewed to a siller bell.
The first Scots kirk that they cam to,

When he cam to his lady's bour door
They garr d the bells be rung;

He stude a little forbye,
The next Scots kirk that they cam to,

And there he heard a fou fause knight
They garr'd the mass be sung.

Tempting his gay ladye.
But when they cam to St. Mary's kirk,

For he's ta'en out a gay goud ring,
There stude spearmen all on a raw;

Had cost him many a poun',
And up and started Lord William,

"O grant me love for love, ladye, The chieftane amang them a'.

And this sall be thy own."“Set down, set down the bier," he said,

“I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she said;

“I trew sae does he me;
“Let me look her upon :'

I wadna gie Brown Adam's love
But as soon as Lord William touch'd her hand,
Her colour began to come.

For nae fause knight I see.”

Out has he ta'en a purse o' gowd,
She brightened like the lily flower,
Till her pale colour was gone;

Was a' fou to the string,
With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,

"O grant me love for love, ladye, She smiled her love upon.

And a' this sall be thine.""A morsel of your bread, my lord,

"I lo’e Brown Adam weel,” she says;

“I wot sae does he me: And one glass of your wine; For I hae fasted these three lang days,

I wadna be your light leman,

For mair than ye could gie.”— All for your sake and minc."Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,

Then out he drew his lang bright brand,

And flash'd it in her een ;
Gae hame and blaw your horn!
I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith,

"Now grant me love for love, ladye, But I've gi'en you the scorn.

Or thro' ye this sall gang !"

Then, sighing, says that ladye fair, "Commend me to my grey father,

Brown Adam tarries lang !"That wished my sanl gude rest;

Then in and starts him Brown Adam,
But wae be to my cruel step-dame,

Says-"I'm just at your hand."-
Garr'd burn me on the breast."-

He's gard him leave his bonny bow, "Ah! wo to you, you light woman!

He's gar'd him leave his brand, An ill death may ye die!

He's gar'd him leave a dearer pledge-
For we left father and sisters at hame

Four fingers o' his right hand.
Breaking their hearts for thee."'I

JELLON GRAME.
BROWN ADAM.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
There is a copy of this Ballad in Mrs. Brown's
Collection. The Editor has seen one, printed on

This ballad is published from tradition, with some a single sheet. The epithet, Smith," implics, conjectural emendations. It is corrected by a copy probably, the sirname, not the profession, of the in Mrs. Brown's MS., from which it differs in the hero, who seems to have been an outlaw. Ihere concluding stanzas. Some verses are apparently is, however, in Mrs. Brown's copy, a rerse of little modernized. meri!, here omitted, alluding to the implements of

Jellon seems to be the same name with Jyllian that occupation.

or Julian. “Jyl of Brentford's Testament" is men

tioned in Wharton's History of Poetry, vol. č. p. 40. O wha wad wish the wind to blaw,

The name repeatedly occurs in old ballads, someOr the green leaves fa' therewith?

times as that of a man, at other times as that of a Or wha wad wish a lealer love

woman. Of the former is an instance in the ballad Than Brown Adam the Smith ?

of “ The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter."* Bleebloom. + Kell-shroud.

Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. p. 72: • IT'he reader will find another version of this ballad in Mother

"Some do call me Jack, sweetheart, well's Collection, 1827, p. 353.-- ED.)

And some do call me Julle.'

66

Witton Gilbert, a village four miles west of Dur And he bred up that bonny boy, ham, is, throughout the bishopric, pronounced Wit Call'd him his sister's son: ton Jilbert. We have also ihe common name of And he thought no eye could ever see Giles, always in Scotland pronounced Jill. For The deed that he had done. Gille, or Juliana, as a female name, we have Fair Gillian of Croyden, and a thousand authorities. O so it fell upon a day, Such being the case, the Editor must enter his pro When hunting they might be, test against the conversion of Gil Morrice into They rested them in Silverwood, Child Maurice, an epithet of chivalry. All the cir Beneath that green aik tree. cumstances in thai ballad argue, that the unfortupate hero was an obscure and very young man, who And many were the green-wood flowers had never received the honour of knighthood. At Upon the grave that grew, any rate, there can be no reason, even were internal And marvell'd much that bonny boy evidence totally wanting, for altering a well-known To see their lovely hue. proper name, which, till of late years, has been the uniform title of the ballad.

“What's paler than the prymrose wan?

What's redder than the rose ?
JELLON GRAME.

What's fairer than the lilye flower

On this wee knowt that grows ?'— O JELLON GRAME sat in Silverwood, *

O out and answer'd Jellon Grame, He sharp'd his broadsword lang;

And he spak hastilieAnd he has call'd his little foot-page

" Your mother was a fairer flower, An errand for to gang.

And lies beneath this tree. "Win up, my bonny boy," he says,

More pale she was, when she sought my grace, As quickly as ye may;

Than prymrose pale and wan; For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower

And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood, Before the break of day."

That down my broadsword ran.”— The boy has buckled his belt about,

Wi' that the boy has bent his bow, And ihrough the green-wood ran;

It was baith stout and lang;

And thro' and thro’ him, Jellon Grame,
And he came to the ladye's bower
Before the day did dawn.

He gar'd an arrow gang.

Says, -"Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame! "O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower ?

My malisoun gang you wi'! The red sun's on the rain :

The place that my mother lies buried in
Ye're bidden come to Silverwood,

Is far too good for thee.”
But I doubt ye'll never win hame."-
She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barely three,

WILLIE'S LADYE.
Ere she came to a new-made grave,
Beneath a green aik tree.

ANCIENT COPY.
O then up started Jellon Grame,

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. Out of a bush thereby; "Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower, MR. Lewis, in his Tales of Wonder, has presentFor it's here that ye maun lye."

ed the public with a copy of this ballad, with addi

tions and alterations. The Editor has also seen a She li hted aff her milk-white steed, An kneel'd upon her knee;

copy, containing some modern stanzas, intended by

Mr. Jamieson, of Macclesfield, for publication in his "O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,

Collection of Scottish Poetry.. Yet, under these For I'm no prepared to die!

disadvantages, the Editor cannot relinquish his pur"Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,

pose of publishing the old ballad, in its native sim. Maun shortly see the light:

plicity, as taken from Mrs. Brown of Falkland's MS. But to see it weltering in my blood,

Those who wish to know how an incantation, or Would be a piteous sight.”—

charm, of the distressing nature here described, was

performed in classic days, may consult the story of “O should I spare your life," he says,

Galanthis's Metamorphosis, in Ovid, or the followUntil that bairn were born,

ing passage in Apuleius : Eadem (Saga scilicet For weel I ken your auld father

quadam,) amatoris uxorem, quod in eam dicacule Would hang me on the morn.

probrum dixerat, jam in sarcinam prægnationis, "O spare my life, now, Jellon Grame!

obsepto utero, et repigrato fortu, perpetua pragna

tione damnarit. Et ut cuncti numerant, octo annoMy father ye needna dread: I'll keep my babe in gude green-wood,

rum onere, misella illa, velut clephantum paritura, Or wi' it I'll beg my bread."

distenditur."'--Apul. Metam. lib. 1.

There is also a curious tale about a Count of He took no pity on Lillie Flower,

Westeravia, whom a deserted concubine bewitched Though she for life did pray;

upon his marriage, so as to preclude all hopes of his But pierced her through the fair body

becoming a father. The spell continued io operate As at his feet she lay.

for three years, till one day, the Count happening to

meet with his former mistress, she maliciously asked He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower,

him about the increase of his family. The Count, Where she was lying dead;

conceiving some suspicion from her manner, craftily But he felt some for the bonny bairn,

answered, that God had blessed him with three fino That lay weltering in her bluid.

children ; on which she exclaimed, like Willie's Up has he ta’en that bonnie boy,

mother in the ballad, “May Ileaven confound the Given him to nurses nine;

old hag, by whose counsel' I threw an enchanted Three to sleep, and three to wake,

pitcher into the draw-well of your palace!" The And three to go between.

spell being found, and destroyed, the Count became

the father of a numerous family.-Hicrarchie of the * Silverwood, mentioned in this ballad, occurs in a medley MS. Blessed Angels, p. 474. song, which seems to have been copied from the first edition of the Aberdeen cantus, penes John G. Dalyell, Esq. advocate. One + Weekno-Little billock. line only ia cited, apparently the beginning of some song :

1 Edit. 1802. Mr. Jamieson's interesting Collection has since Silverwood, gin ye were mine."

been published. 1810.

WILLIE'S LADYE.

Do shape it bairn and bairnly like,

And in it twa glassen een yo;'ll put;
Willie's ta en him o'er the faem,*
He's wooed a wife, and brought her hame;

" And bid her your boy's christening to, He's wooed her for her yellow hair,

Then notice weel what she shall do; But his mother wrought her meikle care;

And do you stand a little away,

To notice weel what she may say.
And meikle dolour gar'd her dree,
For lighter she can never be ;
But in her bower she sits wi' pain,
And Willie mourns o'er her in vain.

(A stanza seems to be wanting. Willic is supposed

to follow the advice of the spirit.-His mother And to his mother he has gane,

speaks.) That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind ! He says-"My ladie has a cup,

“O wha has loosed the nine witch knots, Wi' gowd and silver set about;

That were amany that ladye's locks ? This gudely gift sall be your ain,

And wha's ta'en out the kaims o' care, And let her be lighter of her young bairn.”— That were amang that ladye's hair ? "Of her young bairn she's never be lighter, " And wha has ta'en down that bush o' woodNor in her bour to shine the brighter:

bine, But she sall die and turn to clay;

That hung between her bour and mine? And you sall wed another may.

And wha has kill'd the master kid,

That ran beneath that ladye's bed? " Another may I'll never wed,

And wha has loosed her left foot shee, Another may I'll never bring hame.”

And let that ladye lighter be ?" But, sighing, said that weary wight“I wish my life were at an end !

Syne, Willy's loosed the nine witch knots,

That were amang that ladye's locks; " Yet gae ye to your mother again,

And Willie's ta'en out the kaims o' care, That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind !

That were into that lady's hair ;, And say, your ladye has a steed,

And he's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine, The like o' him's no in the land o' Leed.t

Hung atween her bour and the witch carline. “For he is silver shod before,

And he has kill'd the master kid, And he is gowden shod behind;

That ran beneath that ladye's bed; At every tuft of that horse mane,

And he has loosed her left foot shee, There's a golden chess, and a bell to ring. And latten that ladye lighter be; This gudely gift sall be her ain,

And now he has gotten a bonny son,
And let me be lighter o' my young bairn.”-

And meikle grace be him upon.
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
But she sall die, and turn to clay,

CLERK SAUNDERS.
And ye sall wed another may.'

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. " Another may I'll never wed, Another may I'll never bring hame.'

This romantic ballad is taken from Mr. Herd's But, sighing, said that weary wight

MSS., with several corrections from a shorter and “I wish my life were at an end !-

more imperfect copy, in the same volume, and one

or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement Yet gae ye to your mother again, That vile rank witch, o' rankese kind!

of the stanzas. The resemblance of the conclusion And say your ladye has a girdle,

to the ballad, beginning, “There came a ghost to It's a' red gowd io the middle;

Margaret's door,'will strike every reader. The

tale is uncommonly wild and beautiful, and appa“And aye, at ilka siller hem

rently very ancient. The custom of the passing bell Hang fiity siller bells and ten;

is still kept up in many villages in Scotland. The This gudély gift sall be her ain,

sexton goes through the town, ringing a small bell, And let me be lighter o’ my young bairn." and announcing the death of the departed, and the "Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter, time of the funeral. Nor in your bour to shine the brighter;

The three concluding verses have been recovered For she sall die, and turn to clay,

since the first edition of this work : and I am inAnd thou sall wed another may.

formed by the reciter, that it was usual to separate

from the rest, that part of the ballad which follows “ Another may l'll never wed,

the death of the lovers, as belonging to another Another may I'll never bring hame."

story. For this, however, there seems no necessity, But, sigbing, said that weary wight

as other authorities give the whole as a complete “I wish my days were at an end !"

tale. 'Then out and spak the Billy Blind, s

CLERK SAUNDERS.** (He spak aye in good tiine :) " Yet gae ye to the market-place,

CLERK SAUNDERS and may Margaret And there do buy a loaf of wace;//

Walked ower yon garden green; * Facm-The sea foam.

mutations to which traditionary song is inevitably subjected. * Land o' Leed-Perhaps Lydia.

the copy we have adopted, we were almost inclined to pretix the : Chc8e-Should probably be jess, the name of a hawk's bell. tollowing verses, wlucb begin the copy preserved by Mr. Jamie& Billy Blind-- A familiar genius, or propitious spint, somewhat similar to the Brownic. He is mentioned repeatedly in

" Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, Mrs. Brown's Ballads, but I have not met with him anywhere

He lived upon sea sand ; else, although he is alluded to in the rustic game of Bogle (i. e.

May Margaret was a king's daughter,
Eoblin) Billy Blind. The word is, indeed, used in Sir David

She lived in upper land.
Lindsay's plays, but apparently in a ditierent sense-
Priests wall lead you like ane Billy Blinde."

“ Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,
PINKERTON'S Scottish Poems, 1792, vol. ii. p. 232.

Weel learned at the scheel; O Wace-Wax.

May Margaret was a king's daughter, T (Mr. Kinloch has again separated the parts in his edition. -

They baith lo'ed ither weel."See his Ballad. 1927, p. 240.-- ED.)

* 1 Two different copies of this pathetic and deeply-interest because they supply information as to the rank in society respec ing ballad have been published: the one by the author of the Bor. lively held by these ill fated lovers--and, by hinting at the schoder Minstrelsy, and the other by Mr. Jamieson, which, though lastic acquirements of Clerk Saunders, they prepare us for the of inferior beauty, is not the less valuable, as illustrating the trans. I casustry by which he seeks to reconcile May Margaret's con

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And sad and heavy was the love

Then in and came her father dear, That fell thir tv í between.

Said-"Let a' your mourning be:

I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay, * A bed, a bed,” Clerk Saunders said,

And I'll come back and comfort thee.”* A bed for you and me!”– "Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret,

“Comfort weel your seven sons, "Till anés we married be;

For comforted will I never be :

I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon "For in may come my seven bauld brot),ers, Was in the bower last night wi' me."

Wi' torchés burning bright;. They'll say-'We hae barae sister,

The clinking bell gaed through the town, And behold she's wi' a knight!

To carry the dead corse to the clay;

And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's *Then take the sword from my scabhard,

window, And slowly lift the pin;

I wot, an hour before the day.
And you may swear, and safe your aith,
Ye never let Clerk Saunders in.

Are ye sleeping, Margaret ?he says,

.." Or are ye waking presentlie? "And take a napkin in your hand,

Give me my faith and troth again, And tie up baith your bonny een;

I wot, true love, I gied to thee.". And you may swear, and safe your aith,

"Your faith and troth ye sall never get, Te saw me na since late yestreen."

Nor our true love sall never twin, It was about the midnight hour,

Until ye come within my bower, When they asleep were laid,

And kiss me cheik and chin." When in and came her seven brothers,

“My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, Wi' torches burning red.

It has the smell now of the ground; When in and came her seven brothers,

And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
Wi torches burning bright;

Thy days of life will not be lang.
They said, “We hae but ae sister,
And behold her lying with a knight!"

"O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight,

I wot the wildfowls are boding day; Then out and spake the first o' them,

Give me my faith and troth again, "I bear the sword shall gar him die!"

And let me fare me on my way.' And out and spake the second o' them,

“Thy faith and troth thou sall na get, " His father has nae mair than he !"

And our true love shall never twin, And out and spake the third o' them,

Until ye tell what comes of women, “I wot that they are lovers dear!"

I wot, who die in strong traivelling?"'$ And out and spake the fourth o'them,

Their beds are made in the heavens high, * They hae been in love this mony a year!"

Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee. Then out and spake the fifth o' them,

Weel set about wi' gillyflowers ;ll "It were great sin true love to twain !"

I wot sweet company for to see. And out and spake the sixth of them, " It were shame to slay a sleeping man!"

"O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight,

I wot the wild fowl are boding day; Then up and gat the seventh o' them,

The pealms of heaven will soon be

sung, And never a word spake he;

And I, ere now, will be miss'd away But he has stripedt his bright brown brand

Then she has ta'en a crystal wand, Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodyc.

And she has stroken her troth thereon; Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn'dt She has given it him out at the shot-window, Into his arms as asleep she lay;

Wi' mony a sad sigh, and heavy groan. And sad and silent was the night

“I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret : That was atween thir twae.

And aye I thank ye heartilie; And they lay still and sleeped sound,

Gin ever the dead come for the quick, Until the day began to daw;

Be sure, Marg'ret, l'll come for thee.". And kindly to him she did say,

It's hosen and shoon, and gown alone, "It is time, true love, you were awa."

She climb’d the wall, and follow'd him, But he lay still, and sleeped sound,

Unul she came to the green forest,. Albeit the sun began to sheen;

And there she lost the sight o' him. She looked atween her and the wa',

“Is there ony room at your head, Saunders ? And dull and drowsie were his een.

Is there ony room at your feet? science to a most jesuitical oath."-MOTHERWELL's Minstrel The mention of gillyflowers is not uncommon. Thus, in the ay. p. 147-8.

Dead Men's SongA third copy has since been published by Buchan, under the ti

" The fields about this city faire tle of Clerk Sandy;" but his various rearlings are mere house

Were all with roses set ; ad's corruptions. A fuarth and more valuable set has also been Exeo by Mr. Kinloch-ED.)

Gilly Movers, and carnations faire,

which canker could not fret." * [In the north-country version of this ballad, published by Mr.

RITSON'S Ancient Songs, p. 283. Kinloch, we have an additonal stanza here.* Ye'll tak me in your arms iwa,

The description given in the legend of Sir Onvain, of the ter. Ye'll carry me into your bed,

restrial paradise, at which the blessed arrive after passing through And ye may swear, and save your aith,

purgatory, omits gilly flowers, though it mentions many others. That in your bour fiour I ne'er med.''

As the passage is cunous, and the legend has never been publishBINLOCH, p. 235.-- ED.

ed, many persons may not be displeased to see it vxtracted 1 Striped-Thrust.

Fair were her erbers with flowres, if Nothing could have heen better imagined," says Mr. Ja.

Rose and lili divers colours, than the circumstance, in Mr. Scott's copy, of killing

Primros and purvink : Cierk Saunders while his mistress was asleep ; nor can anything

Mint, feverfoy, and eglenterre, le mote natural or pathetic than the three stanzas that follow,

Colombin, and mother wer beginning with

Than animan mai bithenke. Clerk Saunders be started, and Margaret she turned,' &c.

It berth erbeg of other maner, They might have charmed a whole volume of had poetry against

Than ani in erth ytoweth here, the ravages of time. In Mr. Scott's work, they shine but like

Tho that is lest of pris ; pearls among diamonds." --Jamieson's Ballads, vol. i. p. 81.)

Evermore thai grene springeth, $ Traicelling-Child-birth.

For winter no somer it no clingeth, i From whatever source the popular ideas of heaven be derived,

And sweeter than licorice."
T

mon,

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