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He's lifted his brother upon his back,

Ta’en him to yon well fair ;
He's washed his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er,

But they bleed ay mair and mair.
“Tak ye aff my Holland sark, a

And rive it gair by gair,
And rowd it in my bluidy wounds,

And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair."
He's taken aff his Holland sark,

And torn it gair by gair;
He's row it in his bluidy wounds,

But they bleed ay mair and mair.
Tak now aff me green mantle,

And row me saftly e in;
And tak me up to yon kirkf style,

Whare the grass grows fair and green.”
He's taken aff the green mantle,

And rowed him saftly in ;
He's laid him down by yon kirk style,

Whare the grass grows fair and green.
John.—“What will ye say to your father dear,

hame 8 at een h ? " WILLIAM.—“ I'll say ye’re lying at yon kirk style,

Whare the grass grows fair and green.'
John.—“O no, O no, my brother dear,

O you must not say so ;
But say that I'm gaen to a foreign land,

Whare no man does me know.”
When he sat in his father's chair

He grew baithi pale and wan,

When ye gae

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MOTHER.-"O what bludea 's that upon your brow?

O dear son, tell to me.”

WILLIAM.—"It is the blude o' my good gray steed

He wadna ride wi' me.”
MOTHER. “O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red,

Nor e'er sae dear to me.
O what blude's that upon your

cheek?
O dear son, tell to me.”

WILLIAM.-" It is the blude of my grey hound,

He wadna hunt for me.”

MOTHER. “ O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red,

Nor e'er sae dear to me.
O what blude's this upon your

hand ? O dear son, tell to me.” WILLIAM.—“It is the blude of my gay goss hawk,

He wadna flee for me.”
MOTHER.—“O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red,

Nor e'er sae dear to me.
O what blude's this upon your dirk ?

Dear Willie, tell to me.”
WILLIAM.—" It is the blude of my aeb brother ;

0, dule, and waed is me."

MOTHER.—“O what will ye sae to your father ?

Dear Willie, tell to me.” WILLIAM.—“I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride,

To dwell in some far countrie.”

MOTHER.—“O when will ye come hame again?

Dear Willie, tell to me.' WILLIAM. “When sun and mune leap on yon hill ;

And that will never be.”

« Blood.

6 One-only.

c Sorrow.

d Woe

66

She turned hersel' right round about,

And her heart burst into three :
My ae best son is deid an gane, a
And
my
tother ane I'll ne'er see.”

OLD BALLAD.

THE CHILD OF ELLE.

On yonder hill a castle stands,

With walles and towres bedight;
And yonder lives the Child of Elle,

A young and comely knighte.
The child of Elle to his garden went,

And stood at his garden pale,
When, lo! he beheld fair Emmeline's page

Come trippinge downe the dale.

The Child of Elle he hyed him thence,

Y-wisb he stoode not stille ;
And soon he mette faire Emmeline's page

Come climbing up the hille. “Nowe sain thee and save thee, thou little foot-page,

Nowe welcome art thou to me;
Oh, tell me how does thy ladye gaye,

And what may thy tydinges be?”

• Gone.

b I wot.

“My lady she is all woe-begone,

And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadlye feude

Between her house and thine.
“And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe,

Bedewde with many a teare,
And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her,

Who loved thee so deare.
And here she sends thee a ring of golde,

The last boone thou mayst have,
And biddes thee weare it for her sake,

When she is layd in grave. “For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,

And in grave soone must shee be, Sith her father hath chose her a new new love,

And forbidde her to think of thee. “Her father hath brought her a carlish a knighte,

Sir John, of the north countraye; And within three dayes shee must him wedde,

Or he vowes he will her slaye.”
“Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,

And greet thy ladye from mee;
And tell her that I, her owne true love,

Will dye, or sette her free.
“Now hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,

And let thy fair ladye know,
This night will I bee at her bowreh windowe,

Betide me weale or woe.”
The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,

He neither stint ne stayd,

Churlish.

b Chamber.

Until he came to fair Emmeline's bowre,

When kneeling down he sayd,
“O ladye, I've been with thy own true love,

And he greets thee well by mee;
This night will he be at thy bowre-windowe,

And dye or sette thee free.”
Nowe day was gone, and night was come,

And all were fast asleep;
All save the ladye Emmeline,
Who sate in her bowre to

weepe:
And soon she heard her true love's voice

Lowe whispering at the walle;
KNIGHT.—“Awake, awake, my deare ladye,

'Tis I, thy true love call.
“Awake, awake, my ladye deare,

Come mount this faire palfraye;
This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe,

Ile carrye thee hence awaye.”
EMMELINE.—“Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knighte,

Nowe nay, this may not bee;
For aye should I tinta my maiden fame,

If alone I should wend with thee.”
KNIGHT.—“O ladye, thou with a knighte so true

Mayst safelye wend alone;
To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,

Where marriage shall make us one."
EMMELINE.—“My father he is a baron bolde,

Of lyneage proude and hye;
And what would he saye if his daughter

Awaye with a knighte should flye?

a Lose.

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