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Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,
Lady Margaret in Mary's quire,
And out o' the knight's a briar..
And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And iain they wad be near ;
They were twa lovers dear.
But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
And flang'd in St. Mary's loch.
(From the Same.)
OF a' the maids o' fair Scotland,
The fairest was Marjorie;
And a dear true love was he.
And wow! but they were lovers dear,
And loved fu' constantlie;
The sairer was their plea *.
And they hae quarrelled on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae,
And let young Benjie gae.
And he was stout't, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie,
To meet his Marjorie.
" O open, open, my true love,
() open and let me in!”
My three brothers are within."
* Plea-Used obliquely for dispute. † Stout--Through this whole ballad, signifies haughty.
Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,
And torches burning clear,
They waked, but naething hear.
About the middle o' the night,
The cocks began to craw,
The corpse began to thraw.'
“ O wha has done thee wrang, sister,
Or dared the deadly sin ?
As thraw ye o'er the linn ?"
“ Young Benjie was the first ae map,
I laid my lore upon ;
He threw me o'er the ling."
« Sall we young Benjie head, sister,
Sall we young Benjie hang,
And punish him ere he gang?
66 Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,
Ye mauna Benjie hang,
And punish him e'cr he gaag.
66 Tie a green gravat round his neck, And lead him out and in,..
And the best ae servant about your house, To wait young Benjie on.
66 And ay, at every seven year's end,
Ye'll tak him to the linn;
To scug * his deadly sin." :...
• Scug-shelter or expiate.
For the irregular Drama, by Don Felix de Vega Carpio, with a Trans
lation by Henry-Richard Lord Holland.
ANDANME, ingenios nobles, flor de España,
Que en esta junta y academia insigne
Para que no me den voces, que
suele Dar gritos la verdad en libros mudos ; Y escribo por el arte que inventaron, Los que el vulgar aplauso pretendieron, Porque como fos paga el vulgo, es justo Hablarle en necio para darle gusto.
Bright flow'rs of Spain, whose young academy Ere long shall that by Tully nam'd outvie, And match th’ Athenian porch where Plato taught, Whose sacred shades such throngs of sages sought,-You bid me tell the art of writing plays Such as the crowd would please, and you might praise. The work scems easy--easy it might be To you who write not much, but not tome : For how cao I the rules of art impart, Who for myself ne'er dreamt of rule or art? Not but I studied all the ancient rules : Yes, God be praised ! long since, in grammar-schools, Scarce ten years old, with all the patience due, The books that subject treat I waded through : My case was simple.-- In these latter days, The truant authors of our Spanish plays So wide had wander'd from the narrow road Which the strict fathers of the drama trod, I found the stage with barbarous pieces stor' :The critics censur'd; but the crowd ador’d. Nay more; these sad corrupters of the stage So blinded taste, and so debarch'd the age, Who writes by rule must please himself alone, Be damnd without remorse, and die unknown. Such force has habit--for the untaught fools, Trusting their own, despise the ancient rules. Yet, true it is, I too have written plays, The wiser few, who judge with skill, might praise : But when I see how show, and nonsense, draws The crowd's, and, more than all, the fair's applause, Wire still are forward with indulgent rage To sanction every monster of the stage, }, doom'd to write, the public taste to hit, Resume the barbarous dress 'twas vaiu to quit : Ilock up every rule before I write, Plautus and Terence drive from out my sight, Lest rage should teach these injur'd wits to join, And their dumb books cry shame on works like mine. To vulgar standards then I square my play, Writing at ease; for, since the publie pay, 'Tis just, methinks, we by their compass steer, And write the nonsense that they love to hear.