In selecting Ballads for a purely poetical collection, it is necessary to choose, not those which the historian, the antiquary, the student of early society might prefer, but those which have most poetical power and charm, and are least embellished by modern editors. We may, for the purposes of this work, divide Ballads into five classes-the Historical, or Mythico-historical, to represent which we pick out Sir Patrick Spens, and Edom o' Gordon. In each of these poems the popular fancy works on true historical data. The second class is the Romantic, and here Glasgerion, The Douglas Tragedy, The Twa Corbies, and Waly, Waly are chosen. As specimens of the popular treatment of the Supernatural, we take Clerk Saunders, The Wife of Usher's Well, and the fragment of a popular Dirge, like those which are still sung by the women of Corsica and the Greek isles. Ballads of the adventures of outlaws and wild marchmen will find their representative in Kinmont Willie. As any selection, however limited, is incomplete without fragments of the Robin Hood cycle, we end with Robin and the Widow's Three Sons, and Robin Hood's Death and Burial, whi'e The Bailiff's Daughter illustrates the more domestic ballads of the English people. These are representatives of different classes of volks-lieder, but few poems suffer so much in the process of selection. Too many of the highest quality have to be omitted for want of space. And the ballads are wronged too, when they are made to appear among the more ornate and various measures of cultivated and artistic poetry.

A. LANG.

VOL. 1.

HISTORICAL.

SIR PATRICK SPENS.

[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland. about 1285. While Dun· fermline is still spoken of as the favourite Royal residence, the Scotch nobles wear the cork-heeled shoon of, a later century, a curious example of the medley common in traditional poetry.]

The king sits in Dunfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine;
O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this new ship of mine!'

O up and spake an eldern knight,
Sat at the king's right knee,—
'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
That ever sail'd the sea.'

Our king has written a braid letter,
And seal'd it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway o'er the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis thou maun bring her hame.'

The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud loud laughed he;

The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his e'e.

"O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o' me,

To send us out, at this time of the year,
To sail upon the sca?

'Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet',
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis we must fetch her hame.'

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi' a' the speed they may;

They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.

They hadna been a week, a week,

In Noroway, but twae,

When that the lords o' Noroway
Began aloud to say,—

'Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,

And a' our queenis fee.'

'Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!

Fu' loud I hear ye lie.

'For I brought as much white monie,

As gane2 ny men and me,

And I brought a half-fou3 o' gude red goud,
Out o'er the sea wi' me.

'Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
Our gude ship sails the morn.'

'Now, ever alake, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm!

I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And, if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm.'

They hadna sailed a league, a league,

A league but barely three,

When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.

'A line adapted in Kinmont Willie, as the formulae of the Iliad recur

in the Odyssey.

2 suffice.

the eighth part of a peck.

The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
It was sic a deadly storm;

And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,
Till a' her sides were torn.

'O where will I get a gude sailor,
To take my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
To see if I can spy land?'

'O here am I, a sailor gude,
To take the helm in hand,

Till you go up to the tall top-mast;
But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.'

He hadna gane a step, a step,

A step but barely ane,

When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,

And the salt sea it came in.

'Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,

Another o' the twine,

And wap them into our ship's side,

And let na the sea come in.'

They fetched a web o' the silken claith,

Another of the twine,

And they wapped them round that gude ship's side, But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords

To weet their cork-heel'd shoon! But lang or a' the play was play'd, They wat their hats aboon.

And mony was the feather-bed,
That flattered on the faem;

And mony was the gude lord's son,
That never mair cam hame.

The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,

A' for the sake of their true loves;
For them they'll see na mair.

O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,
Wi' their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!

And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they'll see na mair.

O forty miles off Aberdeen,

'Tis fifty fathoms deep,

And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.

EDOM O' GORDON.

[Popular version of the story of the burning of the House of Towey, a hold of the Forbes's, by the Gordons, in 1571. There is one English version, named Captain Car.]

It fell about the Martinmas,

When the wind blew shrill and cauld,

Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,

'We maun draw to a hauld.

'And whatna hauld sall we draw to,

My merry men and me?

We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair ladye.'