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XI.

Waly, Waly, Love be Bonny.

A SCOTTISH SONG.

THIS is a very ancient song, but we could, O wherfore shuld I busk my head? only give it from a modern copy. Some editions instead of the four last lines in the second stanza have these, which have too much merit to be wholly suppressed:

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Or wherfore shuld I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
And says he'll never loe me mair.
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed,
The sheets shall neir be fyl'd by me:
Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.
Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O gentle death, whan wilt thou cum?
For of my life I am wearìe.

Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaws inclemencìe;
'Tis not sic cauld, that makes me cry,
But my loves heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgowe town,

We were a comely sight to see,

My love was cled in black velvet,
And I my sell in cramasìe.

But had I wist, before I kisst,

That love had been sae ill to win;
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd,
And pinnd it with a siller pin.
And, oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurses knee,
And I my sell were dead and gane!
For a maid again Ise never be.

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GIVEN from two ancient copies, one in black- | print, in the Pepys Collection, the other in the Editor's folio MS. Each of these contained a stanza not found in the other. What seemed the best readings were selected from both.

This song is quoted as very popular in "Walton's Compleat Angler," chap. 2. It is more ancient than the ballad of "Robin Good-Fellow" printed below, which yet is supposed to have been written by Ben Jonson. As at noone Dulcina rested

In her sweete and shady bower,
Came a shepherd, and requested

In her lapp to sleepe an hour.
But from her looke

A wounde he tooke

Soe deepe, that for a further boone

The nymph he prayes.

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Wherto shee sayes,

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Or for the sight

Of lingering night

Foregoe the present joyes of noone?

Though ne'er soe faire

Her speeches were,

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Forgoe me now, come to mee soone. 40

How, at last, agreed these lovers?

Shee was fayre, and he was young: The tongue may tell what th' eye discovers; Joyes unseene are never sung.

Did shee consent,

Or he relent;

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Accepts he night, or grants shee noone;

Left he her a mayd,

Or not; she sayd

Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 50

XIV.

The Lady Isabella's Tragedy.

THIS ballad is given from an old blackletter copy in the Pepys Collection, collated with another in the British Museum, H. 263, folio. It is there entitled, "The Lady Isabella's Tragedy, or the Step-Mother's Cruelty: being a relation of a lamentable and cruel murther, committed on the body of the Lady Isabella, the only daughter of a noble Duke, &c. To the tune of, The Lady's Fall." To some copies are annexed eight more modern stanzas, entitled, "The Dutchess's and Cook's Lamentation."

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This lord he had a daughter deare,
Whose beauty shone so bright,
She was belov'd, both far and neare,
Of many a lord and knight.

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