302 REVIEWS — THE BALLADS OP SCOTLAND. 



thereafter, to claim his faith and troth, without which he cannot rest 

 in his grave. She insists on her lover kissing her, though he warns 

 her, that his mouth is cold and smells of the grave, and then in the 

 same simple style of homely pathos as in the one already noted, the 

 ballad proceeds thus, chiefly in dialogue : — 



" Thy faith and troth thou sail na get, 

 And our true love shall never twin. 

 Until ye tell what comes of women, 

 I wot, wha die in strong travailing 2" 



" Their beds are made in the heavens high, 

 Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, 



"Weel set about wi' gillyflowers; 

 I wot sweet company for to see, 



"0 cocks are crowing a merry midnight, 



I wot the wild-fowl are boding day ; 

 The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, 



And I, ere now, will be missed away." 



May Margaret then, by a curious process, returns her lover's troth, 

 and he leaves her with the tender assurance, that : — 



Gin ever the dead come for the quick, 

 Be sure, Margaret, I'll come for thee." 



But she follows the departing spirit, without waiting to cover her 

 naked feet ; and still we find the same simple and child-like confusion 

 of ideas which makes the grave not only the portal to the spirit-land, 

 but the sole spirit-world : 



" Is there ony room at your head, Saunders ? 



Is there ony room at your feet ? 

 Or ony room at your side Saunders, 



Where fain, fain, I wad sleep ?" 



" There's nae room at my head, Margaret, 



There's nae room at my feet ; 

 My bed it is full lowly now: 



Among the hungry worms I sleep, 



" Cauld mould is my covering now, 



But and my winding sheet ; 

 The dew it falls nae sooner down. 



Than my resting-place is weet. 



