'I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,
And knights of high degree,
Bot a fairer face than young Waters
Mine eyne did never see.'

Out then spack the jealous king,
And an angry man was he:
'O if he had been twice as fair,
You micht have excepted me.'

'You're neither laird nor lord,' she says, 'Bot the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland But to thee maun bow down.'

For a' that she could do or say,
Appeasd he wad nae bee,

Bot for the words which she had said,
Young Waters he maun die.

They hae taen young Waters,
And put fetters to his feet;
They hae taen young Waters,

And thrown him in dungeon deep.

'Aft have I ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind both and the weit;
Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Wi' fetters at my feet.

'Aft have I ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind both and the rain;
Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Neir to return again.'

They hae taen to the heiding-hill

His young son in his craddle,

And they hae taen to the heiding-hill
His horse both and his saddle.

They hae taen to the heiding-hill
His lady fair to see,

And for the words the queen had spoke
Young Waters he did die.

LORD RANDAL

'O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?

O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?' 'I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon; For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'

'Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?' 'I din'd wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon; For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'

'What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?' 'I gat eels boiled in broo; mother, make my bed soon; For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'

'What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my

son?

What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?'

'O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon; For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'

'O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!
OI fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!'
‘O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon;
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

THERE was a youth, and a well belovd youth,

And he was a esquire's son,

He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,

That lived in Islington.

She was coy, and she would not believe

That he did love her so,

No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show.

But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.

And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,

"Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me."

All the maids of Islington

Went forth to sport and play;
All but the bayliff's daughter dear;
She secretly stole away.

She put off her gown of gray,

And put on her puggish attire;

She's up to fair London gone,

Her true-love to require.

As she went along the road,

The weather being hot and dry,

There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.

She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring: '
"I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny
To ease my weary limb."

"I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born?

"At Islington, kind sir," said she,
"Where I have had many a scorn."

"I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know

The bayliff's daughter of Islington?"

66

Where no man doth me know."

"O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She is alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And is ready to be thy bride."

“O farewel grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more!

For now I have seen mine own true love,

That I thought I should have seen no more."

LATE BALLADS

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound
Cries Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!'

'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?'

'O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

'And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

'His horsemen hard behind us ride-
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?'

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready:
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:—

'And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;

So though the waves are raging white
I'll row you o'er the ferry.'