They hadna sail'd a league, a league,

A league but barely three,

When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea.

The ropes they brak, and the top-masts lap,

It was sic a deadly storm;

And the waves came o'er the broken ship,

Till a' her sides were torn.

"O whaur will I get a gude sailor
Will tak' the helm in hand,
Until I win to the tall top-mast,
And see if I spy the land?”

"It's here am I, a sailor gude,
Will tak' the helm in hand,
Till ye win to the tall top-mast,
But I fear ye'll ne'er spy land.”

He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,

When a bolt flew out of the gude ship's side,

And the salt sea it cam' in.

“Gae, fetch a web of the silken claith,

Another o' the twine,

And wap them into the gude ship's side,
And let na the sea come in."

They fetched a web o' the silken claith,

Another o' the twine,

And they wapp'd them into the gude ship's side, But aye the sea came in.

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
To weet their leathern shoon,

But lang ere a' the play was o'er,
They wat their heads abune.

O lang, lang may the ladies sit,
Wi' their fans into their hand,
Or e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the land.

O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi' their gowd kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear lords,
For them they'll see nae mair.

Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,
It's fifty fathom deep,

And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,

Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.

TAMLAN E.

THE following version of this curious old fairy ballad differs materially from that inserted by Sir Walter Scott in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," which contained a number of verses avowedly modern, and others which I strongly suspect to have been interpolated at a much earlier period. I have excised all doubtful stanzas I venture to think to the decided improvement of the ballad - and I have added nothing for which I have not warrant in other versions. In the task of collation I have derived much assistance from a fragment given by Mr Maidment, in a little volume entitled "A New Book of Old Ballads," which was printed at Edinburgh in 1843, for private circulation.

The ballad belongs to Selkirkshire, and is of undoubted antiquity, being mentioned in the "Complaynt of Scotland," printed at St Andrews in 1549.

I forbid ye, maidens a',

"01

That bind in snood your hair,

To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tamlane is there.”

Fair Janet sat within her bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And fain would be at Carterhaugh,
Amang the leaves sae green.

She's prink'd hersell, and preen'd hersell,
By the ae light o' the moon,
And she's awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she could gang.

She hadna pu'd a red red rose,

A rose but barely three,

When up and starts the young Tamlane, Says "Lady, let a-be!

"What gars ye pu' the rose, Janet ?
What gars ye break the tree?
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
Without the leave o' me?"

"O I will pu' the flowers," she said,
"And I will break the tree;
For Carterhaugh it is my ain,
I'll ask nae leave of thee."

66

He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her down upon the flowers,
Nor ever asked her leave.

Now

ye maun tell the truth," she said, "A word ye maunna lie ;

O, were ye ever in haly chapel,

Or sained in Christentie ?"

"The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet,
A word I winna lie ;

I was ta'en to the good church-door,
And sained as well as thee.

Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
Dunbar, Earl March, was thine;
We loved when we were children small,
Which still you yet may mind.

"When I was a boy just turned of nine,
My uncle sent for me,

To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him,
And keep him companie.

"There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell,
And a dead sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell;

The Queen of Fairies she was there,
And took me to hersell.

"And never would I tire, Janet,
In fairy-land to dwell;
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I'm sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear 'twill be mysell!

"The morn at e'en is Hallowe'en ;

Our fairy court will ride,

Through England and through Scotland baith,

And through the warld sae wide,

And if that ye wad borrow me,

At Miles Cross ye maun bide.

"And ye maun gae to the Miles Moss, Between twelve hours and one,

Tak' haly water in your hand,

And cast a compass roun.'

"And how shall I ken thee, Tamlane?
And how shall I thee knaw,

Amang the throng o' fairy folk,
The like I never saw ?"