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"And, next, they'll shape me in your arms,
A tod, but and an eel;

But had me fast, nor let me gang,
As you 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 me—
I'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.

The heavens were black, the night was dark, And dreary was the place;

But Janet stood, with eager wish,

Her lover to embrace.

Betwixt the hours of twelve and one,

A north wind tore the bent;

And straight she heard strange elritch2 sounds Upon that wind which went.

About the dead hour o' the night,

She heard the bridles ring;

And Janet was as glad o' that,
As any earthly thing!

Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill,
The hemlock small blew clear;
And louder notes from hemlock large,
And bog-reed struck the ear;
But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts,
The Fairies cannot bear.

1 Producing superstitious dread.

2 Wild.

They sing, inspired with love and joy,
Like sky-larks in the air;

Of solid sense, or thought that's grave,
You'll find no traces there.

Fair Janet stood with mind unmoved,
The dreary heath upon;

And louder, louder wax'd the sound,
As they came riding on.

Will o' the Wisp before them went,
Sent forth a twinkling light;
And soon she saw the Fairy bands
All riding in her sight.

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' ;
And up there raise an erlish cry-
"He's won amang us a'!"

They shaped him in fair Janet's arms,
An esk, 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.1

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out o' bush o' broom-

"She that has borrowed young Tamlane, Has gotten a stately groom.'

1 Gained.

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies
Out o' a bush of rye-

"She's ta'en awa the bonniest knight
In a' my cumpanie.

"But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"A lady wad borrow'd thee-

I 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 hame—
I wad tane out your heart o' flesh,
Put in a heart o' stane.

"Had I but had the wit yestreen,
That I ha'e coft1 the day-

I'd paid my kane 2 seven times to hell,
Ere you'd been won3 away!"

THE LAIRD OF LAIRISTAN; OR, THE THREE CHAMPIONS OF LIDDISDALE.

BY JAMES HOGG.

"THE Scene of this ballad is laid in the upper parts of Liddisdale, in which district the several residences of the three champions are situated, as is also the old castle of Hermitage, with the farmhouses of Saughentree and Roughley. As to the authenticity of the story, all that I can say of it is, that I used to hear it told, when I was a boy, by William Scott, a joiner of that country, and was much taken with some of the circumstances. Were I to relate it verbatim, it would only be anticipating a great share of the poem."-Author.

"O DICKIE, 'tis light, and the moon shines bright,
Will ye gang and watch the deer wi' me?"
"Ay, by my sooth, at the turn o' the night,
We'll drive the holm of the Saughentree."

1. Bought.

2 Rent paid in kind.

3 Gained.

The moon had turn'd the roof of heaven;
The ground lay deep in drifted snaw;
The Hermitage bell had rung eleven,
And our yeomen watch'd behind the ha'.

The deer was skight,1 and the snaw was light,
And never a blood-drap could they draw;
"Now, by my sooth," cried Dickie then,
"There's something yonder will fear us a'.

"Right owre the knowe where Liddel lies—
Nae wonder that it derkens my e'e,
See yonder's a thing of fearsome size,
And it's moving this way hastilye.

66 Say, what is yon, my brother John? The Lord preserve baith you and me! But our hearts are the same, and sure our aim, And he that comes near these bullets shall prie." 2

"Oh haud your tongue, my brother dear, Let us survey 't wi' steady e'e;

'Tis a dead man they are carrying here,

And 'tis fit that the family warn'd should be.”

They ran to the ha', and they waken'd them a', But none were at home but maidens three; Then close in the shade of the wall they stay'd, To watch what the issue of this would be.

And there they saw a dismal sight,

A sight had nearly freezed their blood; One lost her sight in the fair moonlight, And one of them fainted where they stood.

Four stalwart men, on arms so bright,
Came bearing a corpse with many a wound;
His habit bespoke him a lord or knight,
And his fair ringlets swept the ground.

1 Timid.

8 Feel or taste.

They heard one to another say

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A place to leave him will not be found;
The door is lock'd, and the key away,
In the byre1 will we lay him down."

Then into the byre the corpse they bore,
And away they fled right speedilye ;
The rest took shelter behind the door,
In wild amazement as well might be.

And into the byre no ane durst gang,
No, not for the life of his bodye;
But the blood on the snaw was trail'd alang,
And they kend a' wasna as it should be.

Next morning all the dalesmen ran,

For soon the word was far and wide; And there lay the Laird of Lairistan,

The bravest knight on the Border side!

He was wounded behind, and wounded before, And cloven through the left cheek-bone; And clad in the habit he daily wore ;

But his sword, and his belt, and his bonnet were gone.

Then east and west the word has gane,
And soon to Branxholm ha' it flew,
That Elliot of Lairistan he was slain,
And how or why no living knew.

Buccleuch has mounted his milk-white steed,
With fifty knights in his companye;
To Hermitage castle they rode with speed,
Where all the dale was summon'd to be.

And soon they came, a numerous host,
And they swore and touch'd the fair bodye;

But Jocky o' Millburn he was lost,

And could not be found in the hale countrye.

1 Cow-house.

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