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Where the midge dares not venture,
Lest herself fast she lay;
If love come, he will enter,
And soon find out his way.

You may esteem him

A child for his might;

Or you may deem him

A coward for his flight;

But if she, whom love doth honour,
Be conceal'd from the day,
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.

IV.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET,

A SCOTTISH BALLAD,

-seems to be composed (not without improvements) out of two ancient English ones, printed in the former part of this volume. See Book I. Ballad XV. and Book II. Ballad IV.- -If this had been the original, the authors of those two ballads would hardly have adopted two such different stories: besides, this contains enlargements not to be found in either of the others. It is given with some corrections, from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland.

LORD Thomas and fair Annet

Sate a' day on a hill;

Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
They had not talkt their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest,

Fair Annet took it ill:
'A'! I will nevir wed a wife
Against my ain friends will.'

'Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,
A wife wull neir wed yee.'
Sae he is hame to tell his mither,
And knelt upon his knee:

'O rede, O rede, mither,' he says,
'A gude rede gie to mee:

O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,

And let faire Annet bee?'

The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,

Fair Annet she has gat nane;

And the little beauty fair Annet has,
O it wull soon be gane!'

And he has till his brother gane:
'Now, brother, rede ye mee;

O sall I marrie the nut browne bride,
And let fair Annet bee?'

'The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,
The nut-browne bride has kye;

I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
And cast fair Annet bye.'

'Her oxen may dye i̇' the house, Billie,

And her kye into the byre;

And I sall hae nothing to my sell,

Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.'

And he has till his sister gane:

'Now, sister, rede ye mee;

O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

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And set faire Annet free?'

'Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas, And let the browne bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!

What is this we brought hame?'

'No, I will tak my mithers counsèl,
And marrie me owt o' hand;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride;
Fair Annet may leive the land.'

Up then rose fair Annets father
Twa hours or it wer day,
And he is gane into the bower,
Wherein fair Annet lay.

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'Rise up, rise up, fair Annet,' he says,

'Put on your silken sheene; Let us gae to St. Maries kirke, And see that rich weddeen.'

'My maides, gae to my dressing roome,
And dress to me my hair;
Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,
See yee lay ten times mair.

My maids, gae to my dressing room,
And dress to me my smock;

The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work.'

The horse fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind,
Wi' siller he was shod before,
Wi' burning gowd behind.

Four and twanty siller bells

Wer a' tyed till his mane,

And yae tift o' the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.

Four and twanty gay gude knichts

Rade by fair Annets side,

And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.

And whan she cam to Maries kirk,

She sat on Maries stean:

The cleading that fair Annet had on

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It skinkled in their een.

And whan she cam into the kirk,

She shimmer'd like the sun; The belt that was about her waist, Was a' wi' pearles bedone.

She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they were sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
When fair Annet she drew near.

He had a rose into his hand,

And he gave it kisses three,

And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annet's knee.

Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite;

And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?'

'O I did get the rose-water, Whair ye wull neir get nane,

For I did get that

very rose-water

Into my mithers wame.'

The bride she drew a long bodkin,
Frae out her gay head-gear,

And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she nevir spak mair.

Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee:

But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,

A' wood-wroth wexed hee.

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