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« The Queen of Fairies keppit me,

In yon green hill to dwell; And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb;

Fair lady, view me well. “But we, that live in Fairy-land,

No sickness know, nor pain ; I quit my body when I will,

And take to it again. “ And I would never tire, Janet,

In elfish land to dwell;
But aye at every seven years,

They pay the teind to hell ;
And I am sae fat, and fair of flesh,

I fear 'twill be mysel'.
“ This night is Hallowe'en, Janet,

The morn is Hallowday; And, gin ye dare your true love win,

Ye hae na time to stay. "The night it is good Hallowe'en,

When fairy folk will ride; And they that wad their true love win,

At Miles Cross they maun bide." “But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?

Or how shall I thee knaw, Amang so mony unearthly knights,

The like I never saw ?”
« The first company that passes by,

Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,

Say na, and do right sae ;
The third company that passes by,

Then I'll be ane o' thae.

“First let pass the black, Janet,

And syne let pass the brown; But grip ye to the milk-white steed,

And pu'the rider down.

“For I ride on the milk-white steed,

nearest the town; Because I was a christened knight,

They gave me that renown.

“My right hand will be gloved, Janet,

My left hand will be bare; And these the tokens I gie thee,

Nae doubt I will be there.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

An adder and a snake;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,

Gin ye wad be my make.

“They 'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

An adder and an ask; They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

A bale that burns fast.

“ They ll turn me in your arms, Janet,

A red-hot gad o' airn;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,

For I'll do you no harm.

"First dip me in a stand o' milk,

And then in a stand o'water; But haud me fast, let me not pass

I'll be your bairn's father.

"And, next, they 'll shape me in your arms,

A tod, but and an eel;
But haud mé fast, nor let me gang,

do love me weel.

“They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,

A dove, but and a swan ; And, last, they 'll shape me in your arms,

A mother-naked man: Cast your green

mantle over meI'll be myself again."

Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,

And eiry was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,

To Miles Cross she did gae.

And first gaed by the black, black steed,

And then gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,

And pu'd the rider down.
She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,

And loot the bridle fa';


there raise an eldritch cry-
“He's won among us a'!”
They shaped him in fair Janet's arms,

An ask, but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape-

To be her bairn's father.

They shaped him in her arms at last,

A mother-naked man ;
She wrapt him in her green mantle,

And sae her true love wan.

Up then spake the Queen o'th' Fairies,

Out o' the bush o' broom“She that has borrowed young

Tamlane, Has gotten a stately groom.”

Up then spake the Queen o’th’ Fairies,

Out o' the bush of rye“She's ta’en away the bonniest knight

In a' my cumpanie.

“But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,

“A lady wad borrowed theeI wad ta'en out thy twa gray een,

Put in twa een o' tree.

“Had I but kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,

“Before ye came frae hameI wad tane out your heart o'flesh,

Put in a heart o' stane.

“ Had I but had the wit yestreen,

That I hae coft* the dayI'd hae paid my kane seven times to hell,

Ere you'd been won away!

* “ Coft:" bought.


This ballad is published from the collation of two copies, obtained from recitation. It seems to be the rude original, or perhaps a corrupted and imperfect copy, of The Child of Elle, a beautiful legendary tale, published in Percy's “Reliques of Ancient Poetry.” It is singular that this charming ballad should have been translated or imitated by the celebrated Bürger, without acknowledgment of the English original. As The Child of Elle avowedly received corrections, we may ascribe its greatest beauties to the poetical taste of the ingenious editor. -SIR WALTER SCOTT.

ERLINTON had a fair daughter,

I wat he weired her in a great sin ;*
For he has built a bigly bower,

An' a' to put that lady in.
An' he has warned her sisters six,

An' sae has he her brethren se'en,
Either to watch her a' the night,

Or else to seek her morn and e'en.

She hadna been i' that bigly bower,

Not a night, but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,

Chapped at the door, crying, “Peace within!" “O whae is this at my bower door,

That chaps sae late, or kens the gin?” + “O it is Willie, your ain true love,

I pray you rise an' let nie in !" * “Weired her in a great sin :" placed her in danger of committing a great sin.-W. S.

+ “Gin :" the slight or trick necessary to open the door.

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