Quoth she, "I have loved thee, little Musgràve,

Fulle long and manye a daye."

"So have I loved you, ladye faire, Yet word I never durst saye."

"I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury *,
Full daintilye bedight,

If thoult wend thither, my little Musgrave,
Thoust lig in mine armes all night."

Quoth he, "I thanke yee, ladye faire,
This kindness yee shew to mee;
And whether it be to my weale or woe,
This night will I lig with thee."

All this beheard a litle foot-page,
By his ladyes coach as he ranne :
Quoth he "thoughe I am my ladyes page,
Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.

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My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
Although I lose a limbe."

And ever whereas the bridges were broke,
He layd him downe to swimme.

"Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnàrd,
As thou art a man of life,

Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-Bury
Litle Musgrave's in bed with thy wife."

"If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,

Then all my lands in Bucklesford-Bury
I freelye will give to thee.

But, and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury
All hanged shalt thou bee.

Rise up, rise up, my merry men all,
And saddle me my good steede ;

* Bucklefield-berry. fol. MS.

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This night must I to Bucklesford-bury;
God wott, I had never more neede."

Then some they whistled, and some they sang,
And some did loudlye saye,

Whenever lord Barnardes horne it blewe,
"Awaye, Musgràve, away!"

"Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke,
Methinkes I heare the jay,

Methinkes I heare lord Barnards horne ;
I would I were awaye."

"Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave,
And huggle me from the cold;
For it is but some shephardes boye
A whistling his sheepe to the fold.

Is not thy hawke upon the pearche,
Thy horse eating corne and haye?

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65

And thou a gay lady within thine armes :
And wouldst thou be awaye ?""

By this lord Barnard was come to the dore,

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And lighted upon a stone:

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 Musgrave,

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Dost find my gaye ladye sweete ?"

"I find her sweete," quoth little Musgràve,
The more is my griefe and paine;

Ide gladlye give three hundred poundes
That I were on yonder plaine."

"Arise, arise, thou little Musgràve,

And put thy cloathes nowe on,

It shall never be said in my countree,
That I killed a naked man.

I have two swordes in one scabbarde,
Full deare they cost my purse;

Ver. 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold. fol. MS.

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And thou shalt have the best of them,

And I will have the worse."

The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke,
He hurt lord Barnard sore;

The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke,
Little Musgrave never strucke more.
With that bespake the ladye faire,
In bed whereas she laye,

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"Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgràve, 95
Yet for thee I will praye :

And wishe well to thy soule will I,
So long as I have life;

So will I not do for thee, Barnàrd,
Thoughe I am thy wedded wife."

He cut her pappes from off her brest ;
Great pitye was to see

The drops of this fair ladyes bloode

Run trickling downe her knee.

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"Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all, 105
You never were borne for my goode :
Why did you not offer to stay my hande,
When you sawe me waxe so woode ?

For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte,
That ever rode on a steede ;

So have I done the fairest lady,

That ever ware womans weede

A grave, a grave,” lord Barnard cryde,
"To putt these lovers in ;

But lay my ladye o' the upper hande,

For shee comes o' the better kin."

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tt That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenor 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 MARION.

A SCOTTISH SONG.

This sonnet appears to be ancient: that and it's simplicity of sentiment have recommended it to a place here.

WILL ze gae to the ew-bughts, Marion,
And wear in the sheip wi' mee?
The sun shines sweit, my Marion,
But nae half sae sweit as thee.
O Marion's a bonnie lass;

And the blyth blinks in her ee:
And fain wad I marrie Marion,
Gin Marion wad marrie mee.

Theire's gowd in zour garters, Marion ;
And siller on zour white hauss-bane: *
Fou faine wad I kisse my Marion

At eene quhan I cum hame.
Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,
Quha gape and glowr wi' their ee
At kirk, quhan they see my Marion ;
Bot nane of them lues like mee.

Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,
A cow and a brawney quay ;
Ise gie tham au to my Marion,
Just on her bridal day.

And zees get a grein sey apron,

And waistcote o' London broun;

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"Haus bane." i. e. The neck-bone. Marian had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual ornament in Scotland: where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," "roperly" halse."

And wow bot ze will be vaporing
Quhaneir ze gang to the toun.

Ime yong and stout, my Marion,
None dance lik mee on the greine;
And gin ze forsak me, Marion,
Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.
Sae put on zour pearlins, Marion,
And kirtle oth' cramasie;

And sune as my chin has nae haire on,

I sall cum west, and see zee.

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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 Q. Elizabeth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as Hearne informs us in his preface to "Gul. Neubrig. Hist. Oxon." 1719, 8vo. vol. i. p. lxx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy of the "Pilgrim," Act iv. Sc. i.

THERE was a shepherds daughter

Came tripping on the waye;

And there by chance a knighte shee mett,
Which caused her to staye.

"Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide,"
These words pronounced hee;

"O I shall dye this daye," he sayd,
"If Ive not my wille of thee."

"The Lord forbid," the maide replyde,
"That you shold waxe so wode!
'But for all that shee could do or saye,
He wold not be withstood.'

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