As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to, be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide
On fair Kirconnel Lee;

I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste, and come to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirconnel Lee.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,

On fair Kirconnel Lee.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

For her sake that died for me.

This ballad has often been imitated, but never improved. The reader who remembers Tennyson's Oriana may see at what fire the modern poet lighted his torch in that beautiful composition.

CLERK SAUNDERS.

The

"This ballad is taken from Mr Herd's MSS., with several corrections from a shorter and more imperfect copy, in the same volume, and one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas. resemblance of the conclusion to the ballad beginning, 'There came a ghost to Margaret's door,' will strike every reader. The tale is uncommonly wild and beautiful, and apparently very correct. The custom of the passing bell

is still kept up in many villages in Scotland. The sexton goes through the town ringing a small bell, and announcing the death of the departed, and the time of the funeral. The three concluding verses have been recovered since the first edition of this work; and I am informed by the reciter, that it was usual to separate from the rest that part of the ballad which follows the death of the lovers, as belonging to another story. For this, however, there seems no necessity, as other authorities give the whole as a complete tale."-SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Two different copies of this ballad have been published; the one by Sir Walter Scott, in "The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," which is followed here, and the other by Mr Jamieson, which, though of inferior beauty, is not the less valuable, as illustrating the transmutations to which traditionary song is inevitably subjected. To the copy we have adopted, we were almost inclined to prefix the following verses, which begin the copy preserved by Mr Jamieson :

"Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,

He lived upon sea sand;

May Margaret was a king's daughter,
She lived in upper land.

"Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,
Weel learned at the scheel;

May Margaret was a king's daughter,
They baith lo'ed ither weel."

Because they supply information as to the rank in society respectively held by these ill-fated lovers, and by hinting at the scholastic acquirements of Clerk Saunders, they prepare us for the casuistry by which he seeks to reconcile May Margaret's conscience to a most jesuitical oath. -MOTHERWELL.

CLERK SAUNDERS and May Margaret,
Walked over yon garden green;
And sad and heavy was the love
That fell thir twa between.

"A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said, "A bed for you and me!"

"Fye, na, fye, na," said May Margaret,

"Till anes we married be.

"For in may come my seven bauld brothers, Wi' torches burning bright;

They'll say 'We hae but ae sister,
And behold she's wi' a knight !""

"Then take the sword frae my scabbard, And slowly lift the pin;

And

you may swear, and save your aith, Ye ne'er let Clerk Saunders in.

"And take a napkin in your hand,
And tie up baith your een;

And ye may swear, and safe your aith,
Ye saw me na since late yestreen."

It was about the midnight hour,
When they asleep were laid,
When in and cam her seven brothers,
Wi' torches burning red.

When in and cam her seven brothers,
Wi' torches shining bright;
They said "We hae but ae sister,
And behold her wi' a knight!"

Then out and spake the first o' them, 'My sword shall gar him die!"

And out and spake the second o' them, "His father has nae mair than he!"

And out and spake the third o' them, "I wot they're lovers dear!"

And out and spake the fourth o' them, "They hae been in love this mony a year!"

Then out and spake the fifth o' them, ""Twere sin true love to twain !" And out and spake the sixth o' them, "It were shame to slay a sleeping man!"

Then up and gat the seventh o' them,
And never a word spake he;

But he has striped his bright brown brand,
Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye.

Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turned

Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween thir twae.

And they lay still and sleeped sound, 'Till the day began to daw,

And kindly to him she did say,

"Its time, true love, you were awa."

But he lay still and sleeped sound,
Though the sun began to sheen;
She looked atween her and the wa',

And dull and drowsie were his een.

Then in and came her father dear,
Said "Let a' your mourning be;
I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,
And I'll come back and comfort thee."

"Comfort weel your seven sons,
For comforted will I never be ;
I ween 'twas neither knave nor lown
Was in the bower last night wi' me."

The clinking bell gaed through the town,
To carry the dead corpse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at May Margaret's
window,

I wot, an hour before the day.

"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,
"Or are ye wauking presently?
Give me my faith and troth again,
I wot, true love, I gave to thee."

"Your faith and troth ye sall never get,
Nor our true love sall never twin,
Until ye come within my bower,
And kiss me cheek and chin."

"My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth,

Thy days of life will not be lang.

"O cocks are crowing a merry midnight,
I wot, the wild-fowls are boding day;
Give me my faith and troth again,
And let me fare upon my way."