To do him a great honour; and you know And so by stealth one night away he went.' 'What might this honour be?' the Traveller cried. 'Why, sir,' the host replied, 'We thought perhaps that he might one day leave us ; And then should strangers have The good man's grave. A loss like that would naturally grieve us, And so we meant to strangle him one night.' CIX R. Southey L LADY ALICE ADY ALICE was sitting in her bower window At midnight mending her quoif; And there she saw as fine a corpse As ever she saw in her life. 'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall? What bear ye on your shoulders?' 'We bear the corpse of Giles Collins, An old and true lover of yours.' 'Oh, lay him down gently, ye six men tall, All on the grass so green, And to-morrow when the sun goes down, 'And bury me in Saint Mary's church, And make me a garland of marjoram, Giles Collins was buried all in the east, Lady Alice all in the west; And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave, The priest of the parish he chanced to pass, Sure never were seen such true lovers before, Old Ballad A CX THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT N outlandish knight came from the North lands, And he came a wooing to me; And he told me he'd take me unto the North lands, And there he would marry me. 'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold, And two of the best nags out of the stable, She fetched him some of her father's gold She mounted her on her milk-white steed, He on the dapple gray; They rode till they came unto the sea-side, Three hours before it was day. 'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed, And deliver it unto me; Six pretty maids have I drowned here, 'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown, 'Pull off, pull off thy silken stays, 'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, 'If I must pull off my Holland smock, For it is not fitting that such a ruffian He turned his back towards her, And viewed the leaves so green; She catch'd him round the middle so small, And tumbled him into the stream. He dropped high, and he dropped low, 'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden, 'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man, Six pretty maidens have you drowned here, She mounted on her milk-white steed, She rode till she came to her father's hall, Old Ballad CXI SPRING SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring; The palm and the may make country houses gay, The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo. Spring, the sweet Spring. T. Nash CXII SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST HERE came a ghost to Margaret's door, ΤΗ With many a grievous groan, And aye he tirled at the pin, But answer made she none. 'Is that my father Philip, Or is 't my true love Willy, From Scotland new come home?' "T is not thy father Philip, Nor yet thy brother John; But 't is thy true love Willy, From Scotland new come home. 'O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret, Give me my faith and troth, Margaret, 'Thy faith and troth thou 'lt never get, Nor yet wilt thou me win, Till that thou come within my bower |