Oh, I will mount thy palfrey white, and ride to kirk

with thee,

And, by those little dewy eyes, we twain will wedded be!"

Back we galloped, never stopping, he before and I behind,

And the autumn leaves were dropping, red and yellow, in the wind;

And the sun was shining clearer, and my heart was high and proud,

As nearer, nearer, nearer, rang the kirk bells sweet and loud,

And we saw the kirk before us, as we trotted down

the fells,

And nearer, clearer, o'er us, rang the welcome of the

bells.

Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!

Chime, rime! chime, rime! through dales and dells!
Rime, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!
Chime, sing! rime, ring! over fields and fells!

ROBERT BUCHANAN.

SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST

THERE came a ghost to Margaret's door,
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 brother John?

Or is't my true love Willy,

""Tis not thy father Philip,

Nor yet thy brother John;

But 'tis thy true love Willy,

From Scotland new come home.

O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret,
I pray thee speak to me:

Give me my faith and troth, Margaret,
As I gave it to thee."

"Thy faith and troth thou'lt never get, Nor yet wilt thou me win,

Till that thou come within my bower And kiss my cheek and chin."

"If I should come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man:

And should I kiss thy rosy lips
Thy days would not be lang.

O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret,
I pray thee speak to me:

Give me my faith and troth, Margaret,
As I gave it to thee."

"Thy faith and troth thou'lt never get, Nor yet wilt thou me win,

Till you take me to yon kirkyard,

And wed me with a ring."

"My bones are buried in yon kirkyard

Afar beyond the sea,

And it is but my spirit, Margaret,

That's now speaking to thee."

She stretched out her lily-white hand,

And for to do her best:

"Have there your faith and troth, Willy, God send your soul good rest."

Now she has kilted her robes of green

A piece below her knee;

And all the live-long winter night
The dead corpse followed she.

"Is there any room at your head, Willy,
Or any room at your feet?

Or any room at your side, Willy,
Wherein that I may creep?"

"There's no room at my head, Margaret,
There's no room at my feet ;

There's no room at my side, Margaret,
My coffin's made so meet."

Then up and crew the red cock,

And up then crew the gray;

"Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margaret,

That you were going away."

OLD BALLAD.

THE BOLD PEDDLER AND ROBIN HOOD

THERE chanced to be a peddler bold,

A peddler bold he chanced to be;
He rolled his pack all on his back,
And he came tripping o'er the lea.

By chance he met two troublesome blades,
Two troublesome blades they chanced to be;
The one of them was bold Robin Hood,
And the other was Little John so free.

"O peddler, peddler, what's in thy pack?
Come speedily and tell to me."
"I've several suits of gay green silks,

And silken bowstrings two or three."

"If you have several suits of gay green silk,
And silken bowstrings two or three,

Then it's by my body," cries Little John,
"One half your pack shall belong to me."

E