"Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thy all,
And brought thyself to penurie?

"All this my boding mind misgave,
I therefore left this trusty friend :
Now let it shield thy foul disgrace,
And all thy shame and sorrows end."

Sorely shent with this rebuke,

Sorely shent was the heir of Linne ;
His heart, I wis, was near to brast,
With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.

Never a word spak the heir of Linne, Never a word he spak but three : "This is a trusty friend indeed,

And is right welcome unto me."

Then round his neck the cord he drew,
And sprung aloft with his bodie:
When lo! the ceiling burst in twain,
And to the ground came tumbling he.

Astonied lay the heir of Linne;

Ne knew if he were live or dead.
At length he looked and saw a bill,
And in it a key of gold so red.

He took the bill and looked it on;
Straight good comfort found he there

It told him of a hole in the wall,

:

In which there stood three chests in-fere.

Two were full of the beaten gold;
The third was full of white monie ;

VOL. II.

Y

And over them, in broad letters,

These words were written so plain to see.

"Once more, my son, I set thee clear;
Amend thy life and follies past;
For but thou amend thee of thy life,
That rope must be thy end at last.”

"And let it be," said the heir of Linne;
"And let be, but if I amend :
For here I will make mine avow,
This rede shall guide me to the end."

Away then went the heir of Linne,
Away he went with merry cheer;

I wis, he neither stint ne staid,

Till John o' the Scales' house he cam' near.

And when he cam' to John o' the Scales,
Up at the speere* then looked he :
There sat three lords at the board's end,
Were drinking of the wine so free.

Then up bespak the heir of Linne;
To John o' the Scales then spak he:
pray thee now, good John o' the Scales,
One forty pence to lend to me."

"I

66

Away, away, thou thriftless loon!
Away, away! this may not be :

For Christ's curse on my head," he said,
"If ever I lend thee one pennie ! "

* An aperture in the wall; a shot window.

Then bespak the heir of Linne,

To John o' the Scales' wife then spak he: "Madam, some awmous on me bestow, I pray, for sweet Saint Charitie.”

"Away, away, thou thriftless loon!

I swear thou gettest no alms of me ; For if we suld hang ony losel here, The first we wad begin with thee."

Then up bespak a good fellow,

Which sat at John o' the Scales his board:

Said, "Turn again, thou heir of Linne;
Some time thou wast a right good lord.

"Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
And sparedst not thy gold and fee ;
Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence,
And other forty if need there be.

"And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
To let him sit in thy companie :

For well I wot thou hadst his land,
And a good bargain it was to thee."

Then up bespak him John o' the Scales, All wud* he answered him again : "Now Christ's curse on my head," he said, "But I did lose by that bargain.

"And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne, Before these lords so fair and free,

* Furious.

Thou shalt have 't back again better cheap, By a hundred merks, than I had it of thee."

"I draw you to record, lords," he said.

With that he gave him a god's-pennie : "Now, by my fay," said the heir of Linne, "And here, good John, is thy monie."

And he pulled forth the bags of gold,
And laid them doun upon the board :
All woe-begone was John o' the Scales,
So shent he could say never a word.

He told him forth the good red gold,

He told it forth with mickle din.

"The gold is thine; the land is mine;

And now I'm again the Lord of Linne!"

Says, "Have thou here, thou good fellow;
Forty pence thou didst lend me ;
Now I'm again the Lord of Linne,
And forty pounds I will give thee."

"Now well-a-way!" quoth Joan o' the Scales; "Now well-a-way, and woe is my life! Yesterday I was Lady of Linne,

Now I'm but John o' the Scales his wife."

"Now fare thee well," said the heir of Linne,

Farewell, good John o' the Scales!" said he; "When next I want to sell my land,

Good John o' the Scales, I'll come to thee."

THE DEMON LOVER.

THIS ballad was published in the Border Minstrelsy, having been "taken down from recitation by Mr William Laidlaw, tenant in Traquair-knowe." Mr Motherwell, who reprinted it in his collection, evidently thought that it had been more than retouched by Mr Laidlaw, and has contrasted it with a meagre copy in his own possession. It certainly appears that some of the stanzas are modern-indeed, one was so palpable and clumsy a fabrication that I could not bring myself to retain it—but the foundation of the ballad is unquestionably old. Mr Buchan subsequently published a version called "James Herries," which, making allowance for ordinary variations, bears a strong general resemblance to that of Mr Laidlaw. I am inclined to think that a very good poem might be framed by collating and combining the two; but such a process is not necessary here, the versions being in themselves complete.

66

"0

WHERE hae ye been, my lang-lost love, This lang seven years and more?" "O I'm come to seek my former vows

Ye granted me before."

"O haud your tongue o' your

former vows,

For they'll breed bitter strife;

O haud your tongue o' your former vows,
For I am become a wife."