And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw ;
But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
When we cam' under the castle wa'.

We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders again' the wa', And sae ready was Buccleuch himsel'

To mount the first before us a'.

He has ta'en the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead— "Had there not been peace between our land, Upon the other side thou'dst gaed!

"Now sound out trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch, "Let's waken Lord Scroop right merrilie!" Then loud the Warden's trumpet blew— O wha daur meddle wi me?

Then speedily to work we gaed,
And raised the slogan one and a',
And cut a hole through a sheet o' lead,
And sae we wan to the castle ha'.

They thought King James and a' his men
Had won the house wi' bow and spear:

It was but twenty Scots and ten,
That put a thousand in sic a steer!

Wi' coulters and wi' fore-hammers,
We gar'd the bars bang merrilie,
Until we cam' to the inner prison,
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie.

And when we cam' to the inner prison, Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou's to die?"

"OI sleep saft, and I wake aft,

It's lang sin' sleeping was fley'd frae me! Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, And a' gude fellows that speer for me."

Then Red Rowan has hent him up,

The starkest man in Teviot-dale

'Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,

Till o' Lord Scroop I take fareweel.

'Fareweel, fareweel, my gude Lord Scroop!

My gude Lord Scroop, fareweel!" he cried; "I'll pay ye for my lodging maill,

When neist we meet on the Border side!"

Then shoulder high, wi' shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang,
At every stride Red Rowan made,

I wot the Kinmont's airns play'd clang!

"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, "I've ridden a horse baith wild and wud, But a rougher beast than Red Rowan, I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode !

"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've pricked a horse out ower the furs;

But sin' the day I backed a steed,
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs !

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men, in horse and foot,
Cam' wi' the keep Lord Scroop along.

Buccleuch has turned to Eden water,

Even where it flowed frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,

And safely swam them through the stream.

He turned him on the further side,

And at Lord Scroop his glove flung he-"An' ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!"

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroop,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes,
When thro' the water they had gane.

"He is either himsel' a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wadna have ridden that wan water,
For a' the gowd in Christentie!"

ALLAN-A-MAUT.

THIS curious old ditty, in honour of malt, which possibly may be the original of the popular ballads, still current in England and Scotland, under the name of "John Barleycorn," was preserved in the Bannatyne MSS., and has been printed in the collections of Messrs Jamieson and Laing.

HEN he was young, and clad in green,

WHE

Having his hair about his e'en,
Baith men and women did him mene,
When he grew on yon hillés hie:
Why should not Allan honoured be?

His foster-father furth of the toun,
To vissy Allan he made him boune;
He saw him lying, alace, in swoun,
For fault of help, and like to die :
Why should not Allan honoured be?

They saw his head begin to rive,
Syne for a nourice they sent belive,
Wha brocht wi' her fifty and five
Of men of war full privily :

Why should not Allan honoured be?

They rushed forth like hellish rooks,
And every ane o' them had hooks ; .
They caught him shortly in their clooks,
Syne band him in a cradle of tree :
Why should not Allan honoured be?

They brocht him inward in the land, Syne every friend made him a band, While they might either gang or stand, Never a foot frae him to flee :

Why should not Allan honoured be?

The greatest coward in this land,
Frae he wi' Allan enter in band,
Tho' he may neither gang nor stand,
Yet forty shall not gar him flee :
Why should not Allan honoured be?

Sir Allan's hewmont is a cup,
With a segg feather on its top;
Frae hand to hand so does he hop,
Till some may neither speak nor see :
Why should not Allan honoured be?

In Yule, when ilk man sings his carol,
Gude Allan lies into a barrel ;
When he is there, he doubts nae peril,
To come on him by land or sea:
Why should not Allan honoured be?

Yet was there never so gay a gallan',
Frae he met wi' our master Allan,
But, gif he hauld him by the hallan,