And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
Come riding o'er the lee.

“Light down, light down, Lady Margret," he "And hold my steed in your hand,' [said, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I make a stand."

She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,

Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',

And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.

"O hold your hand, Lord William," she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair: True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.”2

O, she's ta'en out her handkerchief,
It was o' the holland sae fine,

And aye she dighted3 her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.

1

Light down, Guldborg, my lady dear,
And hald our steeds by the renyies here."
Ribolt and Guldborg.

2" Hald, hald, my Ribolt, dearest mine,
Now belt thy brand, for its mair nor time."
3 wiped.

"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?"

I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, "For you have left me no other guide."

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,

With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.

They lighted down to tak a drink

Of the spring that ran sae clear;

And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she gan to fear.

66

" she says,

Hold up, hold up, Lord William,"

"For I fear that you are slain!”—'

""Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain."

In the Danish Ballad, a mysterious caution is given to Guldborg, not to name her lover during the fight: she does so, as in the Scottish version, and at that moment Ribolt receives his death wound.

S

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother's ha' door,
And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
"Get up, and let me in!-

Get up, get up, lady mother,” he says,
"For this night my fair lady I've win.

"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,
"O mak it braid and deep!

And lay Lady Marg❜ret close at my back,
And the sounder I shall sleep."

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Margret lang ere day-

1

And all true lovers that go thegither,

May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, Lady Margret in Marie's quire;

Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a brier.

Ribolt was dead or the cock did craw;
Guldborg she died or the day did daw :-

Ribolt and Guldborg.

And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they would be near,

And a' the warld might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pull'd up the bonny brier,

And flang'd in St. Marie's Loch.

WIDOW.

E give entire Sir Walter Scott's
Introduction to this beautiful
poem.

"This fragment, obtained from recitation in the Forest of Ettrick, is said to relate to the execution of Cockburne of Henderland, a Border freebooter, hanged over the gate of his own tower by James V., in the course of that memorable expedition in 1529, which was fatal to Johnie Armstrang, Adam Scott of Tushielaw, and many other marauders. The vestiges of

the castle of Henderland are still to be traced upon the farm of that name, belonging to Mr.