FIRST LINES.

ENGLISH BALLADS.

A chieftain to the Highlands bound,
A stranger youth from Athens came,
A vessel sail'd from Albion's shore,
A well there is in the west country,
Arouse, arouse, thou faithless knight!

As the fisherman sat, at the close of the day,
At break of day, with frightful dreams,
Come listen to my mournful tale,
Dark was the night and wild the storm,
Fast by the margin of a mossy rill,
Frederick leaves the land of France,
From Caledonia's distant bounds,
Glengonar's wassail rout was gay,
God prosper long our noble king,
High on a rock, embower'd in wood,

Page 183

215

22

208

117

128

138

185

61

35

42

99

160

6

188

His face was like the spectre wan,

210

In ancient days, when Arthur reign'd,

153

It was by a baron's castle gay,

103

John Gilpin was a citizen,

130

King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill, 211

Lady Margaret at her window sat,

48

Lord Thomas he was a bold forester,

17

Lovely smil'd the blushing morn,
Now ponder well, you parents dear,
Of all the Scottish northern chiefs,
Oh! low he lies-his cold pale cheek,
One early morn, while dewy drops,
Sad and fearful is the story,

The heath-cock had whirr'd at the break of the morn,

178

The lawns were dry in Euston-park,

45

The night was dark, the blast blew cold,

115

The welkin, dark o'er Cuton moor,

192

There liv'd, as fame reports, in days of yore,

147

There pass'd a melancholy maid,

176

They made her a grave too cold and damp,

When Arthur first in Court began,
With gentle murmur flow'd the tide,
Young lord, thy grandsire had a friend,

SCOTTISH BALLADS.

At Beltane, quhen ilk bodie bownis,
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in,
From the dead, an' from the dying,
Gil Morrice was an erle's son,
Gilderoy was a bonny boy,

Gude Lord Graham is to Carlisle gane,
How brent's your brow, my lady Elspat,

In Auchtermuchty dwelt a man,
It fell about the Martinmas,

It fell in about the Martinmas time,
Johnie rose up in a May morning,
Keen the frosty winds were blawing,
Late at e'en drinking the wine,
Lord Kenneth, in a gay mornin',
Merry it was in the green forest,
Now Liddisdale has lyan lang in,
Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tower,

377

O waly, waly, my gay goss hawk,

298

O Willie's large o' limb and lith,

348

Return, return, ye men of bluid,

236

Stately stept he east the ha',

Rise up, rise up now, Lord Douglas, she says,

345

225

Sweet Willie, the flower of Liddisdale,

Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,

268

365

The reivers they wad a-stealing gang,

351

There's a maid has sat on the green merse side,

260

There was twa sisters liv'd in a bower,

There was a May, and a weel-far'd May,

357

326

Young Bekie was as brave a knight,

'Twas late, late, on a Saturday night,

370

360

THE

COMMON-PLACE BOOK

OF

BALLAD.

ENGLISH BALLADS.

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

ANONYMOUS.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,
The words which I shall write ;
A doleful story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk liv'd of late,
Whose wealth and riches did surmount

Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die;
No help that he could have;
His wife by him as sick did lie,

And both possess'd one grave.
No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kind;

In love they liv'd, in love they died,
And left two babes behind.

A

The one a fine and pretty boy,

Not passing three years old; The other, a girl more young than he, And made in beauty's mould. The father left his little son,

As plainly doth appear,

When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a-year.

And to his little daughter Jane
Five hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which might not be controll'd.
But if the children chance to die
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possess their wealth;
For so the will did run.

Now, brother, (said the dying man),
Look to my children dear,-
Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friends else I have here:
To God and you I do commend
My children night and day;
But little while, be sure, we have
Within this world to stay.

You must be father and mother both,
And uncle all in one;

God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone!
With that bespake their mother dear,
O brother kind, (quoth she),

You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or misery.

And if you keep them carefully,

Then God will you reward;

If otherwise you seem to deal,
God will your deeds regard.
With lips as cold as any stone,

She kiss'd her children small,-
God bless you both, my children dear;
With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spoke
To this sick couple there-
The keeping of your children dear,
Sweet sister, do not fear.
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear
When you're laid in the grave.

Their parents being dead and gone,
The children thence he takes,
And brings them home unto his house,
And much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
But for their wealth he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargain'd with two ruffians rude,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take the children young,
And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife, and all he had,
He did the children send

To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went these pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide,-

Rejoicing with a merry mind

They should on cock-horse ride.