Chapter IX: Part 9

"Awa! awa! ye ill woman:
"Nae cage o' gowd for me;
"As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,
"Sae wad ye do to me."

She hadna cross'd a rigg o' land,
A rigg, but barely ane;
When she met wi' his auld father,
Came riding all alane.

"Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,
"Where hae ye been sae late?"
"We hae been seeking Erl Richard,
"But him we canna get."

"Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde,
"He'll ride them ane by ane,
"And though the night was ne'er sae mirk,
"Erl Richard will he hame."

O it fell anes, upon a day,
The king was boun' to ride;
And he has mist him, Erl Richard,
Should hae ridden on his right side.

The ladye turn'd her round about,
Wi' meikle mournfu' din--
"It fears me sair o' Clyde water,
"That he is drown'd therein."

"Gar douk, gar douk,"[B] the king he cried,
"Gar douk for gold and fee;
"O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,
"Or wha will douk for me?"

They douked in at ae weil-head,[C]
And out ay at the other;
"We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,
"Although he were our brother."

It fell that, in that ladye's castle,
The king was boun' to bed;
And up and spake the popinjay,
That flew abune his head.

"Leave off your douking on the day,
"And douk upon the night;
"And where that sackless[D] knight lies slain,
"The candles will burn bright."

"O there's a bird within this bower,
"That sings baith sad and sweet;
"O there's a bird within your bower,
"Keeps me frae my night's sleep."

They left the douking on the day,
And douked upon the night;
And, where that sackless knight lay slain,
The candles burned bright.

The deepest pot in a' the linn,
They fand Erl Richard in;
A grene turf tyed across his breast,
To keep that gude lord down.

Then up and spake the king himsell,
When he saw the deadly wound--
"O wha has slain my right-hand man,
"That held my hawk and hound?"

Then up and spake the popinjay,
Says--"What needs a' this din?
"It was his light lemman took his life,
"And hided him in the linn."

She swore her by the grass, sae grene,
Sae did she by the corn,
She had na' seen him, Erl Richard,
Since Moninday at morn.

"Put na the wite on me," she said;
"It was my may Catherine."
Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,
To burn that maiden in.

It wadna take upon her cheik,
Nor yet upon her chin;
Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
To cleanse the deadly sin.

The maiden touched the clay-cauld corpse,
A drap it never bled;
The ladye laid her hand on him,
And soon the 'ground was red.

Out they hae ta'en her, may Catherine,
And put her mistress in:
The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,
Tuik fast upon her chin,
Tuik fast upon her faire bodye--
She burn'd like hollins green.[E]

[Footnote A: _Birled_--Plied.]

[Footnote B: _Douk_--Dive.]

[Footnote C: _Weil-heid_--Eddy.]

[Footnote D: _Sackless_--Guiltless.]

[Footnote E: _Hollins green_--Green holly.]

NOTES ON EARL RICHARD.

_The candles burned bright._--P. 403. v. 4.

These are unquestionably the corpse lights, called in Wales _Canhwyllan Cyrph_, which are sometimes seen to illuminate the spot where a dead body is concealed. The editor is informed, that, some years ago, the corpse of a man, drowned in the Ettrick, below Selkirk, was discovered by means of these candles. Such lights are common in church-yards, and are probably of a phosphoric nature. But rustic superstition derives them from supernatural agency, and supposes, that, as soon as life has departed, a pale flame appears at the window of the house, in which the person had died, and glides towards the church-yard, tracing through every winding the route of the future funeral, and pausing where the bier is to rest. This and other opinions, relating to the "tomb-fires' livid gleam," seem to be of Runic extraction.

_The deepest pot in a' the linn._--P. 403. v. 5.

The deep holes, scooped in the rock by the eddies of a river, are called _pots;_ the motion of the water having there some resemblance to a boiling cauldron.

_Linn_, means the pool beneath a cataract.

_The maiden touched the clay-cauld corpse,
A drop it never bled._--P. 405. v. I.

This verse, which is restored from tradition, refers to a superstition formerly received in most parts of Europe, and even resorted to, by judicial authority, for the discovery of murder. In Germany, this experiment was called _bahr-recht_, or the law of the bier; because, the murdered body being stretched upon a bier, the suspected person was obliged to put one hand upon the wound, and the other upon the mouth of the deceased, and, in that posture, call upon heaven to attest his innocence. If, during this ceremony, the blood gushed from the mouth, nose, or wound, a circumstance not unlikely to happen in the course of shifting or stirring the body, it was held sufficient evidence of the guilt of the party.

The same singular kind of evidence, although reprobated by Mathaeus and Carpzovius, was admitted in the Scottish criminal courts, at the short distance of one century. My readers may be amused by the following instances:

"The laird of Auchindrane (Muir of Auchindrane, in Ayrshire) was accused of a horrid and private murder, where there were no witnesses, and which the Lord had witnessed from heaven, singularly by his own hand, and proved the deed against him. The corpse of the man being buried in Girvan church-yard, as a man cast away at sea, and cast out there, the laird of Colzean, whose servant he had been, dreaming of him in his sleep, and that he had a particular mark upon his body, came and took up the body, and found it to be the same person; and caused all that lived near by come and touch the corpse, as is usual in such cases. All round the place came but Auchindrane and his son, whom nobody suspected, till a young child of his, Mary Muir, seeing the people examined, came in among them; and, when she came near the dead body, it sprang out in bleeding; upon which they were apprehended, and put to the torture."--WODROW'S _History_, Vol. I. p. 513. The trial of Auchindrane happened in 1611. He was convicted and executed.--HUME'S _Criminal Law_, Vol. I. p. 428.

A yet more dreadful case was that of Philip Standfield, tried upon the 30th November, 1687, for cursing his father (which, by the Scottish law, is a capital crime, _Act 1661, Chap_. 20), and for being accessory to his murder. Sir James Standfield, the deceased, was a person of melancholy temperament; so that, when his body was found in a pond near his own house of Newmilns, he was at first generally supposed to have drowned himself. But, the body having been hastily buried, a report arose that he had been strangled by ruffians, instigated by his son Philip, a profligate youth, whom be had disinherited on account of his gross debauchery. Upon this rumour, the Privy Council granted warrant to two surgeons of character, named Crawford and Muirhead, to dig up the body, and to report the state in which they should find it. Philip was present on this occasion, and the evidence of both surgeons bears distinctly, that he stood for some time at a distance from the body of his parent; but, being called upon to assist in stretching out the corpse, he put his hand to the head, when the mouth and nostrils instantly gushed with blood. This circumstance, with the evident symptoms of terror and remorse, exhibited by young Standfield, seem to have had considerable weight with the jury, and are thus stated in the indictment: "That his (the deceased's) nearest relations being required to lift the corpse into the coffin, after it had been inspected, upon the said Philip Standfield touching of it (_according to God's usual mode of discovering murder_), it bled afresh upon the said Philip; and that thereupon he let the body fall, and fled from it in the greatest consternation, crying, Lord have mercy upon me!" The prisoner was found guilty of being accessory to the murder of his father, although there was little more than strong presumptions against him. It is true, he was at the same time separately convicted of the distinct crimes of having cursed his father, and drank damnation to the monarchy and hierarchy. His sentence, which was to have his tongue cut out, and hand struck off, previous to his being hanged, was executed with the utmost rigour. He denied the murder with his last breath. "It is," says a contemporary judge, "a dark case of divination, to be remitted to the great day, whether he was guilty or innocent. Only it is certain he was a bad youth, and may serve as a beacon to all profligate persons."--FOUNTAINHALL'S _Decisions_, Vol. I. p. 483.

While all ranks believed alike the existence of these prodigies, the vulgar were contented to refer them to the immediate interference of the Deity, or, as they termed it, God's revenge against murder. But those, who, while they had overleaped the bounds of superstition, were still entangled in the mazes of mystic philosophy, amongst whom we must reckon many of the medical practitioners, endeavoured to explain the phenomenon, by referring to the secret power of sympathy, which even Bacon did not venture to dispute. To this occult agency was imputed the cure of wounds, effected by applying salves and powders, not to the wound itself, but to the sword or dagger, by which it had been inflicted; a course of treatment, which, wonderful as it may at first seem, was certainly frequently attended with signal success.[A] This, however, was attributed to magic, and those, who submitted to such a mode of cure, were refused spiritual assistance.

[Footnote A: The first part of the process was to wash the wound clean, and bind it up so as to promote adhesion, and exclude the air. Now, though the remedies, afterwards applied to the sword, could hardly promote so desirable an issue, yet it is evident the wound stood a good chance of healing by the operation of nature, which, I believe, medical gentlemen call a cure by the first intention.]

The vulgar continue to believe firmly in the phenomenon of the murdered corpse bleeding at the approach of the murderer. "Many (I adopt the words of an ingenious correspondent) are the proofs advanced in confirmation of the opinion, against those who are so hardy as to doubt it; but one, in particular, as it is said to have happened in this place, I cannot help repeating.

"Two young men, going a fishing in the river Yarrow, fell out; and so high ran the quarrel, that the one, in a passion, stabbed the other to the heart with a fish spear. Astonished "at the rash act, he hesitated whether to fly, give himself up to justice, or conceal the crime; and, in the end, fixed on the latter expedient, burying the body of his friend very deep in the sands. As the meeting had been accidental, he was never from gaiety to a settled melancholy. Time passed on for the space of fifty years, when a smith, fishing near the same place, discovered an uncommon and curious bone, which he put in his pocket, and afterwards showed to some people in his smithy. The murderer being present, now an old white-headed man, leaning on his staff, desired a sight of the little bone; but how horrible was the issue! no sooner had he touched it, than it streamed with purple blood. Being told where it was found, he confessed the crime, was condemned, but was prevented, by death, from suffering the punishment due to his crime.

"Such opinions, though reason forbids us to believe them, a few moments reflection on the cause of their origin will teach us to revere. Under the feudal system which prevailed, the rights of humanity were too often violated, and redress very hard to be procured; thus an awful deference to one of the leading attributes of Omnipotence begat on the mind, untutored by philosophy, the first germ of these supernatural effects; which was, by superstitious zeal, assisted, perhaps, by a few instances of sudden remorse, magnified into evidence of indisputable guilt."

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN.

NOW FIRST PUBLISHED IN A PERFECT STATE.

Lochroyan, whence this ballad probably derives its name, lies in Galloway. The lover, who, if the story be real, may be supposed to have been detained by sickness, is represented, in the legend, as confined by Fairy charms in an enchanted castle situated in the sea. The ruins of ancient edifices are still visible on the summits of most of those small islands, or rather insulated rocks, which lie along the coast of Ayrshire and Galloway; as Ailsa and Big Scaur.

This edition of the ballad obtained is composed of verses selected from three MS. copies, and two from recitation. Two of the copies are in Herd's MSS.; the third in that of Mrs Brown of Falkland.

A fragment of the original song, which is sometimes denominated _Lord Gregory_, or _Love Gregory_, was published in Mr Herd's Collection, 1774, and, still more fully, in that of Laurie and Symington, 1792. The story has been celebrated both by Burns and Dr Wolcott.

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN.

"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?
"And wha will glove my hand?
"And wha will lace my middle jimp
"W' a lang lang linen band?

"O wha will kame my yellow hair
"With a new made silver kame?
"And wha will father my young son
"Till Lord Gregory come hame?"

"Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot,
"Thy mother will glove thy hand,
"Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp,
"Till Lord Gregory come to land.

"Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair
"With a new made silver kame,
"And God will be thy bairn's father
"Till Lord Gregory come hame."

"But I will get a bonny boat,
"And I will sail the sea;
"And I will gang to Lord Gregory,
"Since he canna come hame to me."

Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat,
To sail the salt salt sea:
The sails were o' the light-green silk,
The tows[A] o' taffety.

She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,
But twenty leagues and three,
When she met wi' a rank robber,
And a' his company.

"Now whether are ye the queen hersell,
"(For so ye weel might be)
"Or are ye the lass of Lochroyan,
"Seekin' Lord Gregory?"

"O I am neither the queen," she said,
"Nor sic I seem to be;
"But I am the lass of Lochroyan,
"Seekin' Lord Gregory."

"O see na thou yon bonny bower?
"Its a' covered o'er wi' tiu:
"When thou hast sailed it round about,
"Lord Gregory is within."

And when she saw the stately tower
Shining sae clear and bright,
Whilk stood aboon the jawing[B] wave,
Built on a rock of height;

Says--"Row the boat, my mariners,
"And bring me to the land!
"For yonder I see my love's castle
"Close by the salt sea strand."

She sailed it round, and sailed it round,
And loud, loud, cried she--
"Now break, now break, ye Fairy charms,
"And set my true love free!"

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane;
And long she knocked, and sair she ca'd,
But answer got she nane.

"O open the door, Lord Gregory!
"O open, and let me in!
"For the wind blaws through my yellow hair,
"And the rain drops o'er my chin."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!
"Ye're no come here for good!
"Ye're but some witch, or wil warlock,
"Or mermaid o' the flood."

"I am neither witch, nor wil warlock,
"Nor mermaid o' the sea;
"But I am Annie of Lochroyan;
"O open the door to me!"

"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan,
"(As I trow thou binna she)
"Now tell me some o' the love tokens
"That past between thee and me."

"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,
"As we sat at the wine,
"We chang'd the rings frae our fingers,
"And I can shew thee thine?

"O your's was gude, and gude enough,
"But ay the best was mine;
"For your's was o' the gude red gowd,
"But mine o' the diamond fine.

"And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory,
"As we sat on the hill,
"Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid
"Right sair against my will?

"Now, open the door, Lord Gregory!
"Open the door, I pray!
"For thy young son is in my arms,
"And will be dead ere day."

"If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
"(As I kenna thou be)
"Tell me some mair o' the love tokens
"Past between me and thee."

Fair Annie turned her round about--
"Weel! since that it be sae,
"May never woman, that has borne a son,
"Hae a heart sae fu' o' wae!

"Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd!
"Set up a mast o' tree!
"It disna become a forsaken lady.
"To sail sae royallie."

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn.
And the sun began to peep,
Then up and raise him, Lord Gregory,
And sair, sair did he weep.

"O I hae dreamed a dream, mother,
"I wish it may prove true!
"That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
"Was at the yate e'en now.

"O I hae dreamed a dream, mother,
"The thought o't gars me greet!
"That fair Annie o' Lochroyan
"Lay cauld dead at my feet."

"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
"That ye make a' this din,
"She stood a' last night at your door,
"But I trow she wanna in."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
"An ill deid may ye die!
"That wadna open the door to her,
"Nor yet wad waken me."

O he's gane down to yon shore side
As fast as he could fare;
He saw fair Annie in the boat,
But the wind it tossed her sair.

"And hey Annie, and how Annie!
"O Annie, winna ye bide!"
But ay the mair he cried Annie,
The braider grew the tide.

"And hey Annie, and how Annie!
"Dear Annie, speak to me!"
But ay the louder he cried Annie,
The louder roared the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dashed the boat on shore;
Fair Annie floated through the faem,
But the babie raise no more.

Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
Her bonny young son was gone.

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair;
But clay-cold were her rosy lips--
Nae spark o' life was there.

And first he kissed her cherry cheek,
And syne he kissed her chin,
And syne he kissed her rosy lips--
There was nae breath within.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
"An ill death may she die!
"She turned my true love frae my door,
"Wha came sae far to me.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
"An ill death may she die!
"She turned fair Annie frae my door,
"Wha died for love o' me."

[Footnote A: _Tows_--Ropes.]

[Footnote B: _Jawing_--Dashing.]

ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILLY.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

_This legendary Tale is given chiefly from Mrs_ BROWN'S _MS. Accordingly, many of the rhymes arise from the Northern mode of pronunciation; as_ dee _for_ do, _and the like.--Perhaps the Ballad may have originally related to the history of the celebrated_ ROBIN HOOD; _as mention is made of Barnisdale, his favourite abode._

O Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Their mother deir was dead:
And their father has married an ill woman,
Wished them twa little guid.

But she had twa as gallant sons
As ever brake man's bread;
And the tane o' them lo'ed her, White Lilly,
And the tother Rose the Red.

O bigged hae they a bigly bour,
Fast by the roaring strand;
And there was mair mirth in the ladyes' bour,
Nor in a' their father's land.

But out and spake their step-mother,
As she stood a little forebye--
"I hope to live and play the prank,
"Sall gar your loud sang lie."

She's call'd upon her eldest son;
"Cum here, my son, to me:
"It fears me sair, my bauld Arthur,
"That ye maun sail the sea."

"Gin sae it maun be, my deir mother,
"Your bidding I maun dee;
"But, be never waur to Rose the Red,
"Than ye hae been to me."

She's called upon her youngest son;
"Cum here, my son, to me:
"It fears me sair, my Brown Robin,
"That ye maun sail the sea."

"Gin it fear ye sair, my mother deir,
"Your bidding I sall dee;
But, be never waur to White Lilly,
"Than ye hae been to me."

"Now hand your tongues, ye foolish boys!
"For small sall be their part:
"They ne'er again sall see your face,
"Gin their very hearts suld break."

Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court,
His hie chamberlain to be;
But Brown Robin, he has slain a knight,
And to grene-wood he did flee.

When Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Sune did they drop the loud loud sang,
Took up the still mourning.

And out then spake her White Lilly;
"My sister, we'll be gane:
"Why suld we stay in Barnisdale,
"To mourn our hour within?"

O cutted hae they their green cloathing,
A little abune their knee;
And sae hae they their yellow hair,
A little abune their bree.

And left hae they that bonny hour,
To cross the raging sea;
And they hae ta'en to a holy chapel,
Was christened by Our Ladye.

And they hae changed their twa names,
Sae far frae ony toun;
And the tane o' them's hight Sweet Willie,
And the tother's Rouge the Rounde.

Between the twa a promise is,
And they hae sworn it to fulfill;
Whenever the tane blew a bugle-horn,
The tother suld cum her till.

Sweet Willy's gane to the king's court,
Her true love for to see;
And Rouge the Rounde to gude grene-wood,
Brown Robin's man to be.

O it fell anes, upon a time,
They putted at the stane;
And seven foot ayont them a',
Brown Robin's gar'd it gang.

She lifted the heavy putting-stane,
And gave a sad "O hon!"
Then out bespake him, Brown Robin,
"But that's a woman's moan!"

"O kent ye by my rosy lips?
"Or by my yellow hair?
"Or kent ye by my milk-white breast,
"Ye never yet saw bare?"

"I kent na by your rosy lips,
"Nor by your yellow hair;
"But, cum to your bour whaever likes,
"They'll find a ladye there."

"O gin ye come my bour within,
"Through fraud, deceit, or guile,
"Wi' this same brand, that's in my hand,
"I vow I will thee kill."

"Yet durst I cum into your bour,
"And ask nae leave," quo' he;
"And wi' this same brand, that's in my hand,
"Wave danger back on thee."

About the dead hour o' the night,
The ladye's bour was broken;
And, about the first hour o' the day,
The fair knave bairn was gotten.

When days were gane, and months were come,
The ladye was sad and wan;
And aye she cried for a bour woman,
For to wait her upon.

Then up and spake him, Brown Robin,
"And what needs this?" quo' he;
"Or what can woman do for you,
"That canna be done by me?"

"'Twas never my mother's fashion," she said,
"Nor shall it e'er be mine,
"That belted knights should e'er remain
"While ladyes dree'd their pain.

"But, gin ye take that bugle-horn,
"And wind a blast sae shrill,
"I hae a brother in yonder court,
"Will cum me quickly till."

"O gin ye hae a brother on earth,
"That ye lo'e mair than me,
"Ye may blaw the horn yoursell," he says,
"For a blast I winna gie."

She's ta'en the bugle in her hand,
And blawn baith loud and shrill;
Sweet William started at the sound,
And cam her quickly till.

O up and starts him, Brown Robin,
And swore by Our Ladye,
"No man shall cum into this hour,
"But first maun fight wi' me."

O they hae fought the wood within,
Till the sun was going down;
And drops o' blood, frae Rose the Red,
Came pouring to the ground.

She leant her back against an aik,
Said--"Robin, let me be:
"For it is a ladye, bred and born,
"That has fought this day wi' thee."

O seven foot he started back.
Cried--"Alas and woe is me!
"For I wished never, in all my life,
"A woman's bluid to see:

"And that all for the knightly vow
"I swore to Our Ladye;
"But mair for the sake o' ae fair maid,
"Whose name was White Lilly."

Then out and spake her, Rouge the Rounde,
And leugh right heartilie,
"She has been wi' you this year and mair,
"Though ye wistna it was she."

Now word has gane through all the land,
Before a month was gane,
That a forester's page, in gude grene-wood,
Had borne a bonny son.

The marvel gaed to the king's court,
And to the king himsell;
"Now, by my fay," the king did say,
"The like was never heard tell!"

Then out and spake him, Bauld Arthur,
And laugh'd right loud and hie--
"I trow some may has plaid the lown,[A]
"And fled her ain countrie."

"Bring me my steid!" the king can say;
"My bow and arrows keen;
"And I'll gae hunt in yonder wood,
"And see what's to be seen."

"Gin it please your grace," quo' Bauld Arthur,
"My liege, I'll gang you wi';
"And see gin I can meet a bonny page,
"That's stray'd awa frae me."

And they hae chaced in gude grene-wood,
The buck but and the rae,
Till they drew near Brown Robin's hour,
About the close o' day.

Then out and spake the king himsell,
Says--"Arthur, look and see,
"Gin you be not your favourite page,
"That leans against yon tree."

O Arthur's ta'en a bugle-horn,
And blawn a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willie started to her feet,
And ran him quickly till.

"O wanted ye your meat, Willie,
"Or wanted ye your fee?
"Or gat ye e'er an angry word,
"That ye ran awa frae me?"

"I wanted nought, my master dear;
"To me ye aye was good:
"I cam to see my ae brother,
"That wons in this grene-wood."

Then out bespake the king again,--
"My boy, now tell to me,
"Who dwells into yon bigly bour,
"Beneath yon green aik tree?"

"O pardon me," said Sweet Willy;
"My liege I dare na tell;
"And gang na near yon outlaw's bour,
"For fear they suld you kill."

"O hand your tongue, my bonny boy!
"For I winna be said nay;
"But I will gang yon hour within,
"Betide me weal or wae."

They have lighted frae their milk-white steids,
And saftly entered in;
And there they saw her, White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny young son.

"Now, by the mass," the king he said,
"This is a comely sight;
"I trow, instead of a forester's man,
"This is a ladye bright!"

O out and spake her, Rose the Red,
And fell low on her knee:--
"O pardon us, my gracious liege,
"And our story I'll tell thee.

"Our father is a wealthy lord,
"Lives into Barnisdale;
"But we had a wicked step-mother,
"That wrought us meikle bale.

"Yet had she twa as fu' fair sons,
"As e'er the sun did see;
"And the tane o' them lo'ed my sister deir,
"And the tother said he lo'ed me."

Then out and cried him, Bauld Arthur,
As by the king he stood,--
"Now, by the faith of my body,
"This suld be Rose the Red!

The king has sent for robes o' grene,
And girdles o' shining gold;
And sae sune have the ladyes busked themselves,
Sae glorious to behold.

Then in and came him, Brown Robin,
Frae hunting o' the king's deer,
But when he saw the king himsell,
He started back for fear.

The king has ta'en Robin by the hand,
And bade him nothing dread,
But quit for aye the gude grene wood,
And cum to the court wi' speed.

The king has ta'en White Lilly's son,
And set him on his knee;
Says--"Gin ye live to wield a brand,
"My bowman thou sall be."

They have ta'en them to the holy chapelle,
And there had fair wedding;
And when they cam to the king's court,
For joy the bells did ring.

[Footnote A: _Lown_--Rogue.]

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.