Pype on, qod the offeciall, and not spar.

The freyr began to star,

Jake hes pype hent,

As sone as Gake began to blow,

All they lepyd on a rowe,

And ronde abowt they went.

The offeciall had so gret hast,

That boyt hes schenys brast,
A pon a blokys hende.

The clerkys to dans they hem sped,
And som all ther eynke sched,
And som ther bekes rent,

And som cast ther boky[s] at the wall,
And som ouer ther felowys can fall,
So weytley they lepyd.

Ther was withowt let,

They stombylled on a hepe,

They dansed all a bowthe,

And yever the freyr creyd owt,

Y may no lengger dans for soyt,
Y haffe lost halffe mey cod war,
When y dansed yn the thornes.
Som to crey they began,
Mey boke ys all to toren;
Som creyd withowt let,
And som bad hoo;

Som seyde het was a god game,
And som seyde they wer lame,
Y may no leynger skeppe;
Som dansed so long,

Tell they helde owt the townge,

And a nethe meyt hepe.

The offeciall began to star,

And seyde, hafe for they heyr,

Stent of they lay,

And boldeley haske of me,

What thou welt hafe for thy gle,

Y schall the redey pay.

Then to stend Jake began,

The offeciall was a werey man,

Mey trowet y pleyt y the,

Thes was a god gle,

And seyde the worst that euer they se,

For het was er neyth.

Then bespake the offeciall,

And leytley Gake can call,

Hes pype he hem hent,
And gaffe hem xx 8.

And euer mor hes blesyng,

For that merey fet.

When Gake had that money hent,

Anon homard he went,

Glad sherof was he;

He waxed a wordeley marchande,

A man of gret degre.

Hes stepdame, y dar say,
Dorst neuer after that day,
Nat wonley ones desplese.
They lowyd togedyr all thre,
Hes father, hes stepdame and he,
Affter yn gret eys.

And that they ded, soyt to say,
Tho hewyn they toke the way,
Withowtyn eney mes.

Now god that dyed for os all,
And dranke aysell and gall,
Bryng them all to they bles,
That beleuet on the name Jhe

WE copy tnis ballad from the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border;" where it is given "chiefly" from "Mrs. Brown's MS.," with "corrections from a recited fragment." Sir Walter Scott, in some prefatory remarks, refers to several traditionary anecdotes, still current in Scotland and on the borders, concerning huge and poisonous snakes, or "worms," destroyed by gallant knights in the olden time. The manor of Sockburne, in the bishopric of Durham, is held of the bishop by the service of presenting to him on his first entrance into his diocese, an antique sword or falchion, to commemorate the slaying of a monstrous creature that devoured men, women, and children,-by Sir John Conyers, who received the manor as a reward for his bravery. Pollard's lands, near Bishop Auckland, are held by a similar tenure; and the founder of the noble family of Somerville is said to have performed a deed as wonderful-by thrusting down the throat of the snake a burning peat, "bedabbed with pitch, rosett, and brimstone." A rude sculpture carved above the entrance to the ancient church at Linton in Roxburghshire, is said to represent this exploit; of which "the vulgar tell us,"

The wode Laird of Lariestoun
Slew the wode worm of Wormiestoune,
And wan all Lintoun parochine.

The story of the "Lambton worm" as recorded in Surtees' "History of Durham," is still more remarkable. The heir of Lambton, profanely fishing on a sabbath day, hooked a small worm or elf, which he carelessly threw into a well; in process of time it grew to a huge size, and made prey of the whole country, levying a contribution daily of "nine cows' milk," and, in default of payment, devouring man and beast. The heir who had wrought the mischief, returning from the crusades, determined to destroy it; and, by the advice of a witch, or wise woman, clad himself in a coat of mail studded with razor blades; select

ing as the scene of battle the middle of a river, so that as fast as the worm was cut to pieces

the stream carried away the dissevered parts, and thus prevented their subsequent adhesion. The knight had promised, however, that he would slay the first living thing that met him after his victory; this chanced to be his father, and, as he refused to keep his vow, it was decreed that no chief of his family should die in his bed for nine generations. Popular tradition continues to point out the scene of the encounter. Stories of men and women transformed into monsters are sufficiently numerous, and have been found among every people. Many such exist in England, in Scotland, and in Ireland; in the latter country they are invariably supposed to occupy lakes of unfathomed depth, out of which they occasionally arise and make excursions among adjacent mountains, bearing with them to their "palaces" beneath the waters, the cattle of some unhappy "neighbour," and not unfrequently the neighbour himself. The origin of the superstition is believed to have been Danish. tions of Denmark are full of such romances; and it is more than probable, that it may have been introduced, by its sea-kings, into the British Islands.

The tradi

"The ballad of Kempion," writes Sir Walter Scott, "seems, from the names of the personages and the nature of the adventure, to have been an old me rical romance degraded into a ballad by the lapse of time, and the corruption of reciters." The allusion to the "arblast bow" would seem to affix the comTwo ballads position to a remote date.* which relate to a similar incident have been preserved; one entitled "Kemp Owyne," by Mr. Motherwell, and another The Laidly Worm of Spindleston-Heugh," affirmed to have been composed, in 1270, by Duncan Frazier, "living on Cheviot," but supposed to have been, at least re-written, by Mr. Robert Lambe, vicar of Norham. In "Kemp Owyne," 'dove Isabel' is transformed into a monster by her stepmother, and doomed to retain her savage form

the notch in the centre by means of a wheel, which was usually hung to the girdle of the archer.

*The string of the arbalast, or arbalist, was drawn to