308 REVIEWS — THE BALLADS OF SCOTLAND. 



I lighted down, my sword did draw, 

 I hacked him in pieces sma', 

 I hacked him in pieces sma', 

 For her sake that died for me. 



O Helen fair, beyond compare ! 

 I'll weave a garland of thy hair, 

 Shall bind my heart for ever mair, 

 Until the day I dee 1 



that I were where Helen lies 1 

 ii- ■ N'ight and day on me she cries ; 



Out of my bed she bids me rise, 

 Says " Haste and come to me ? " 



Helen fair ! Helen chaste ! 

 Were I with thee I would be blest, 



' * Where thou lies low and takes thy rest, 



. ' On fair Kirkconnell lee. 



t I wish my grave were growing green ; 



A winding-sheet drawn o'er my e'en, 

 And I in Helen's arms lying 

 On fair Kirkconnell lee. 



1 wish I were where Helen lies I 

 Night and day on me she cries, 

 And I am weary of the skies, 



For her sake that died for me ! 



It may seem almost superfluous to quote this old familar piece ; but 

 his ear must be strangely jarred to whom its recurrence is unwelcome. 

 So too is it with the fine old ballad of " Sir Patrick Spens " here given, 

 with a slight but judicious conjectural emendation, and assigned, in 

 theme at least, to the year 1281 ; — with the curious old fairy ballad 

 of " Tamlane," another relic of undoubted antiquity, referred to in the 

 " Complaynt of Scotland," printed in 1549 ; — and with the singularly 

 tender " Lament of Lady Ann Bothwell," the daughter of Adam, 

 Bishop of Orkney, who performed the marriage ceremony between 

 Queen Mary and the Earl of Bothwell. Instead of these, however, 

 we prefer selecting an exceedingly simple and less familiar ballad, 

 which has, nevertheless, gone through sundry versions, and has fur- 

 nished to its present editor an opportunity for some of his most judi- 

 cious amendments and selected reconstruction : — 



