Tis not thy father Philip;

Nor yet thy brother John:

But tis thy true love Willie

From Scotland new come home.

O fweet Margret! O dear Margret!
I pray thee speak to mee:
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.

Thy faith and troth thou'fe nevir get,
• Of me fhalt nevir win,'

Till that thou come within my bower,
And kifs my cheek and chin.

Give me my faith and troth, Margret,

As I gave it to thee.

Thy faith and troth thou'fe nevir get,

Of me fhalt nevir win,'

Till thou take me to yon kirk yard,

And wed me with a ring.

My

My bones are buried in a kirk yard

Afar beyond the fea,

And it is but my fprite, Margret,.
That's fpeaking now to thee.

She stretched out her lilly-white hand,

As for to do her best :

35

Is there any room at your head, Willie?

45

Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,

55

That you were gane away.

No

1

No more the ghoft to Margret said,

But, with a grievous grone, Evanish'd in a cloud of mift, And left her all alone.

O ftay, my only true love, stay,
The conftant Margret cried:

Wan grew her cheeks, the clos'd her een,
Stretch'd her faft limbs, and died.

60

VII.

SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA ALLAN.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

Printed, with a few conjectural emendations, from a written copy.

IT was in and about the Martinmas time,

When the greene leaves wer a fallan ; That Sir John Grehme o' the weft countrye, Fell in luve wi' Barbara Allan.

He fent his man down throw the towne,
To the plaice wher she was dwellan :

O hafte and cum to my maifter deare,

5

O hooly

O hooly, hooly, raise fhe up,

To the plaice wher he was lyan; And whan fhe drew the curtain by, Young man, I think ye're dyan*.

10

O its I'm fick, and very very fick,
And its a' for Barbara Allan :
O the better for me ye'se never be,
Though your harts blude wer spillan.

Remember ye nat in the tavern, fir,
Whan ye the cups wer fillan ;

How ye maide the healths gae round and round,
And flighted Barbara Allan ?

He turn'd his face unto the wa'

And death was with him dealan ;
Adiew adiew! my dear friends a',
Be kind to Barbara Allan.

Cried, wae to Barbara Allan !

* An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes Dyand and Lyand ought to be tranfpofed; as the taunt Young man, I think ye're lyand, would be very characteristical.

From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, with fome improvements communicated by a lady as he had heard the fame recited in her youth. The full title is "True "love requited: Or, the Bailiffs daughter of Islington.”

ISLINGTON in Norfolk is probably the place here meant.

THer

Here was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthes
And he was a fquires fon :

He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,

That lived in Islington.