I wish I were into the bounds,
Where he lies smothered in his wounds,
Repeating, as he pants for air,

My name, whom once he called his fair.
No woman's yet so fiercely set,
But she'll forgive, though not forget.

Balow, my boy, lie still and sleep,
It grieves me sair to hear thee weep.

If linen lacks, for my love's sake,
Then quickly to him would I take
My smock, once for his body meet,
And wrap him in that winding-sheet.
Oh me! how happy had I been
If he had ne'er been wrapt therein.
Balow, my boy, lie still and sleep,
It grieves me sair to hear thee weep.

Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee;
Too soon, alack, thou'lt weep for me!
Thy griefs are growing to a sum,

God grant thee patience when they come ;
Born to sustain thy mother's shame,
A hapless fate, a bastard's name.

Balow, my boy, lie still and sleep,
It grieves me sair to hear thee weep.

GEORDIE.

THE following ballad was printed in "Johnson's Museum," and was communicated by Burns from recitation. I do not think that it bears any mark of having been altered by his hand, with the exception, perhaps, of the concluding stanza. Of its antiquity there can be no doubt, as there were several versions current, one of which, with a lively refrain, is given by Mr Kinloch. I have been unable satisfactorily to trace its connection with any event recorded in history, though it possibly may refer to the temporary disgrace of George Gordon, Earl of Huntley, in 1554, during the Regency of Mary of Guise.

THERE was a battle in the north,

THER

It wasna' far frae Fordie,

And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay,
And they laid the wyte on Geordie.

O, he has written a lang letter,
He sent it to his lady;

"It's ye maun come up to E'nbrugh town,
To see what word's o' Geordie."

When first she look'd the letter on,
She was baith red and rosy;
But she hadna read a word but twa,
Till she wallow't like a lily.

* Withered; faded.

"Gar get to me my gude grey steed; My menzie a' gae wi' me;

For I shall neither eat nor drink,

Till E'nbrugh town shall see me."

And she has mounted her gude grey steed,
Her menzie a' gaed wi' her;

And she did neither eat nor drink,
Till E'nbrugh toun did see her.

And first appear'd the fatal block,
And syne the axe to heid him ;
And Geordie comin' down the stair,
And bands o' airn upon him.

But tho' he was chain'd wi' fetters strang,
O' airn and steel sae heavy,
There wasna ane in a' the court,
Sae braw a man as Geordie.

O she's doun on her bended knee,
I wat she's pale and wearie ;
"O pardon, pardon, noble king,
And gie me back my dearie!

"I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear, The seventh ne'er saw his daddie;

O pardon, pardon, noble king,

Pity a waefu' lady!"

"Gar bid the heiding-man mak' haste!" The king replied fu' lordly;

"O noble king, tak' a' that's mine,

But gie me back my Geordie!"

VOL. II.

D

The Gordons cam', and the Gordons ran,

And they were stark and steady;

And aye

the word amang them a', Was, "Gordons, keep you ready!"

An auld lord at the king's right hand,
Says, "Noble king, but hear me ;
Gar her tell down five thousand pound,
And gie her back her dearie."

Some gae her merks, some gae her crouns,
Some gae her dollars many,

And she's tell'd doun five thousand pound,
And she's gotten again her dearie.

She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face,
Says, "Dear hae I bought thee, Geordie,
But there sud hae been bluidy bouks on the green,
Or I had tint my lordie !"

He claspit her by the middle sma',
And he kiss'd her lips sae rosy ;

"The fairest flower o' womankind

Is my sweet bonnie lady!"

GLENKINDIE.

THIS ballad, printed by Mr Jamieson, was taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland. The story is precisely identical with that set forth in the English ballad "Glasgerion," in Percy's "Reliques;" but the versification is so different, that I can hardly suppose the compositions to have been originally the same, but to have gradually been altered in the course of composition. I rather incline to believe that, in this instance, some minstrel had carried with him, from some meeting, the outline and general impression of a ballad which had been chanted, without acquiring the words, and afterwards had attempted to reconstruct it without any other kind of assistance.

I doubt not that the hero was the same person with the Welsh bard Glaskyrion, whose reputation was so great and widely spread, that both Chaucer and Gawin Douglas have associated his name with that of Orpheus. The composer of the Scottish ballad had, in all probability, never heard of the ancient Cambrian bard, and therefore took at random a title more familiar to the ears of his audience. It is proper to notice that the dialect of this ballad is of the kind peculiar to Aberdeen and the neighbouring districts, and differs in some respects from the south country or Lowland Scots. I have made one or two verbal alterations where the meaning in the original was obscure.

LENKINDIE was ance a harper gude,

He harped to the King;
Glenkindie was ance the best harper

That ever harp'd on string.