They searched the country braid and wide,
The forest far and near,

And they found him into Elmond-wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

"Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin,
Win up, and boun wi me,

For we are come frae the Castle,
And the Earl would fain you see.”

"O lat him tak my head," he says,
"Or hang me on a tree,
For sin' I've lost my dear lady
My life's nae worth to me."

"Your head will not be touched Etin,
Nor sall you hang on tree,
Your lady's in her father's court,

And all he wants is thee."

When he cam' in before the Earl
He louted on his knee.

"Win up, win up, now Hynd Etin
This day ye'se dine wi me."

As they were at their dinner set
The boy he asked a boon.
"I wold we were in holy kirk
To get our christendoun.

"For we hae lived in the good greenwood These twelve lang years and ane,

But a' this time since e'er I mind

Was never a kirk within."

"Your asking's na sae great my boy

But granted it sall be,

This day to holy kirk sall ye gang

And your mither sall gang you wi."

When she cam to the holy kirk
She at the door did stan'

She was sae sunken doun wi shame
She couldna come further ben.

Then out it spak' the haly priest,
Wi a kindly word spak he,
"Com ben, come ben, my lily-flower,
And bring your babes to me."

Ballads of this class, when short, differ but little from songs. As long as there is a narrative contained in them, even though it is not directly told, but poetically embodied, they are, however, properly ballads. Two very fine short ballads are Edward and The Mill Dams of Binnorie. The Twa Corbies has but little of the ballad character except that, like the other two, it is a production of true poetic inspiration. The Lament of the Border Widow given below can hardly be called a ballad though an incident is touchingly presented. At all events it is close to the defining line.

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW
My Love he built me a bonnie bower,
And clad it a' wi' the lily flower;
A brawer bower ye ne'er did see
Than my true Love he built for me.

There came a man by middle day,
He spied his sport and went away,
And brought the king that very night,
Who brake my bower and slew my knight.

He slew my knight to me sae dear,
He slew my knight and poin'd his gear ;
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremity.

I sew'd his sheet making my mane,
I watch'd the corpse, myself alane,
I watched his body night and day,-
No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed and whiles I sat;
I digg'd a grave and laid him in,
And happ'd him wi' the sod sae green.

But think na ye my heart was sair
When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair?
O, think na ye my heart was wae
When I turned about, away to gae?

Nae living man I'll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain;
Wi' ae lock o' his yellow hair

I'll chain my heart forevermair.

It is quite evident that this is a comparatively modern production. The last line alone is enough to prove it so. Binnorie, on the contrary, bears the hall mark of antiquity. It was printed in 1656,

but still exists in tradition, and is preserved in many

different versions.

THE TWA SISTERS

There were twa sisters sat in a bour;
Binnorie, O Binnorie.

There came a knight to be their wooer,

By the bonnie mill dams of Binnorie.

He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing.

The eldest she was vexed sair

And sore envied her sister fair.

The eldest said to the youngest ane,

"Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?"

She's ta'en her by the lily hand,

And led her down to the river strand.

The youngest stood upon a stane,
The eldest came and pushed her in.

"O Sister, Sister, reach your hand
And shall be heir of half my land."

ye

"O Sister, I'll not reach my hand
And I'll be heir of all your land."

Shame fa' the hand that I should take,
It's twin'd me and my world's make.1

"O Sister, reach me but your glove,
And sweet William shall be your love."

"Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
And sweet William shall better be my love.

"Your cherry lips and your yellow hair
Garred me gang maiden ever mair."

Sometimes she sunk and sometimes she swam
Until she came to the miller's dam.

O father, father, draw your dam

There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.

The miller hasted and drew his dam

And there he found a drowned woman.

In all the versions harp strings or fiddle strings are made from the drowned girl's hair, which disclose the elder sister's guilt when used. The refrain which should be repeated with every stanza adds much to the effect of this interesting ballad.

Coleridge's Ancient Mariner is the best example of the regenerative effect of the popular ballad spirit when infused into a modern poem, and Buchanan's Judas Iscariot has caught the note with hardly less success.

THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot
Lay in the field of blood;
'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot
Beside the body stood.