Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page, My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, And ever whereas the bridges were broke, 35 Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnard, Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-Bury If it be trew, thou litle foote-page, But and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page, On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury Rise up, rise up, my merry men all, This night must I to Bucklesford-bury; God wott, I had never more neede. 40 45 50 Then some they whistled, and some they sang, And some did loudlye saye, Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave, Is not thy hawke upon the pearche, 65 Thy horse eating corne and haye? And thou a gaye lady within thine armes: By this lord Barnard was come to the dore, And lighted upon a stone: 70 And he pulled out three silver keyes, And opened the dores eche one. He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheete; How now, how now, thou little Musgràve, 75 I find her sweete, quoth little Musgrave, Arise, arise, thou little Musgrave, And put thy cloathes nowe on, It shall never be said in my countree, 80 I have two swordes in one scabbarde, 85 And thou shalt have the best of them, The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke, 90 V. 64, Is whistling sheepe ore the mold. fol. MS. The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke, Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgrave, And wishe well to thy soule will I, So will I not do for thee, Barnard, He cut her pappes from off her brest; 100 The drops of this fair ladyes bloode Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all, 105 Why did you not offer to stay my hande, For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte, 110 So have I done the fairest lady, That ever ware womans weede. A grave, a grave, lord Barnard cryde, But lay my ladye o' the upper hande, For shee comes o' the better kin. 115 That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenour of the concluding stanza, viz. "This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought: Then let us call for Grace, That we may shun the wicked vice, And fly from Sin a-pace.” XII. The Ew-Bughts Warion. A SCOTTISH SONG. THIS Sonnet appears to be ancient: that and its simplicity of sentiment have recommended it to a place here. WILL ze gae to the ew-bughts, Marion, And the blyth blinks in her ee: Theire's gowd in zour garters, Marion; And siller on zour white hauss-bane1: At eene quhan I cum hame. Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, At kirk, quhan they see my Marion; Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion, And waistcote o' London broun; པ་ 10 15 20 1 Hauss-bane, i. e. the neck-bone. Marion had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a riband, an usual ornament in Scotland. where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," properly halse. Ime yong and stout, my Marion, And sune as my chin has nae haire on, I sall cum west, and see zee. XIII. The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter. THIS ballad (given from an old black-letter copy, with some corrections) was popular in the time of Queen Elizabeth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as Hearne informs us in his preface to Gul. Newbrig. Hist. Oxon. 1719, 8vo, vol. i. p. lxx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy of The Pilgrim, act iv. sc. 1. THERE was a shepherds daughter, Came tripping on the waye; And there by chance a knighte shee mett, Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide, These words pronounced hee: OI shall dye this daye, he sayd, If Ive not my wille of thee. 5 The Lord forbid, the maide replyde, That you shold waxe so wode! 10 'But for all that shee could do or saye, He wold not be withstood.' Sith you have had your wille of mee, And put me to open shame, |