Away she gaed, and again she came,
The loveliest lady e'er could be!

And by my sooth, says Kempion,
My own true love (for this is she),
They surely had a heart of stone

Could put thee to such misery.

O was it warwolf in the wood,
Or was it mermaid on the sea;

Or was it man, or vile woman,

My ain true love, that misshaped thee?

It was no warwolf in the wood,
Nor was it mermaid in the sea;
But it was my wicked step-mother,
And wae and weary may she be.

O! a heavier weird shall light her on
Than ever fell on vile woman;

Her hair shall grow rough, and her teeth grow lang,
And on her four feet shall she gang.

None shall take pity her upon:

In Wormeswood she aye shall wan,
And relieved shall she never be,

Till Saint Mungo come over the sea-
And, sighing, said that weary wight,

"I doubt that day I'll never see."

SCOTT'S BORDER MINSTRELSY.

WILLIE OF KINMONT.

THIS, which Sir Walter Scott characterises as one of the last and most gallant achievements performed upon the Border, took place in the year 1596.

O HAVE ye na heard of the false Sakelde?-

O have ye na heard of the keen Lord Scroop?-
How they have taken bold Kinmont Willie,
On Hairibee to hang him up?

Had Willie had but twenty men;

But twenty men as stout as he,

False Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,
With eightscore in his company.

They bound his legs beneath the steed,—
They tied his hands behind his back,—

They guarded him fivesome on each side,
And they brought him over the Liddel-rack.

They led him through the Liddel-rack,
And also through the Carlisle sands,-
They brought him to Carlisle castle,

To be at my Lord Scroop's commands.

* The place of execution for the English Marches, at Carlisle.

My hands are tied, but my tongue is free;
And who will dare this deed avow,
Or answer by the Border law,

Or answer to the bold Buccleugh?

Now hold thy tongue, thou rank rover,
There's never a Scott shall set ye free;
Before ye cross my castle-gate,

I trow ye shall take farewell of me.

Fear na ye that, my Lord, quoth Willie;

By the faith of my body, Lord Scroop, he said, I never yet lodged in a hostelrie,

But I paid my lawing + before I gaed.

Now word is gane to the bold Keeper,
In Branksome Ha', where that he lay,
That Lord Scroop has taken the Kinmont Willie,
Between the hours of night and day.

He has taken the table with his hand,
He gar'd the red wine spring on hie:
Now Christ's curse on my head, he said,
But avenged of Lord Scroop I'll be!

O is my basnet a widow's curch, §

Or my lance a wand of the willow tree

Or my arm a lady's lily hand,

That an English lord should lightly || me?

And have they ta'en him-Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of Border tide,
And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch
Is keeper here on the Scottish side?

And have they e'en ta'en him--Kinmont Willie,
Withouten either dread or fear,

* Inn.
Coif.

+ Reckoning.

+ Helmet.

Set light by.

And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none,
I would slight Carlisle castle high,
Though it were builded of marble stone.

I would set that castle in a low,
And sloken it with English blood:
There's never a man in Cumberland
Should ken where Carlisle castle stood.

But since no war's between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be,
I'll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be.

He has called him forty marchmen bauld;
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called

The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

He has called him forty marchmen bauld, Were kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, † And glaives of green, and feathers blue.

There were five and five before them a',

With hunting horns and bugles bright; And five and five came with Buccleuch, Like warder's men arrayed for fight.

And five and five, like a mason gang,

That carried the ladders long and high;

And five and five, like broken men,—

And so they reached the Woodhouselee.

And as we crossed the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,

The first of men that we met wi',

Who should it be but false Sakelde!

Where be ye going, ye hunters keen,
Quo' false Sakelde, come tell to me?
We go to hunt an English stag

Has trespassed on the Scots' countrie.

Where be ye going, ye marshalmen,

Quo' false Sakelde, come tell me true? We go to catch a rank rover,

Has broken faith with the bold Buccleuch.

Where are ye going, ye mason lads,

With all your ladders, long and hie? We gang to herry a corbie's nest,

That wons not far from Woodhouselee.

Where be ye going, ye broken men,

Quo' false Sakelde, come tell to me? Now Dickie of Deghope led that band, And the never a word of lear had he.

Why trespass ye on the English side?

Raw-footed outlaws, stand! quo' he. The never a word had Dickie to say,

So he thrust the lance through his false bodie.

Then on we held for Carlisle town,

And at Staneshaw bank the Eden we crossed:
The water was great and mickle of space,
But the never a horse nor man we lost.

And when we reached the Staneshaw bank,
The wind was rising loud and high,

Learning; ability to speak.

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