REVIEWS— THE BALLADS OF SCOTLAND. 313 



At. e'en at the gloming, nae s-wankies are roaming, 

 Mong stacks, with the lasses, at bogle to play ; 



But ilka ane sits dreary,, lamenting her deary. 



The Flowers of the Forest that are a' wede away. 



At harrest, at the shearing, nae youngsters are jeering, 



The bansters are rankled, lyart, and grey. 

 At a fair, or a preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching. 



Since our braw forresters are a' wede away. 



O dool for the order, sent car lads to the border: 



The English for anes by guile gat the day. 

 The Flowers of tha Forest, that ay shone the foremost, 



The prime of our land, lies cauld in the clay. 



We'll hear nae mair lilting, at our ewes milking, 

 The women and bairns are dowie, and wae. 



Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning, 



Since our braw forresters are a' wede away. 



The same volume from whence this copy of " The Elowers of the 

 Forest" is derived, has a version of " Sir James the Eose," or " The 

 Buchanshire Tragedy " as it is called, differing hoth from the one 

 given in Professor Aytoun's volumes, and from others referred to 

 in his note. It is stated to be the production of " a very ingenious 

 young lady, Miss Christian Edwards, daughter of a gentleman in 

 Stirlingshire," and it fully bears out, in its style, the date assigned 

 to it. Nor need any one question the date or authorship of Mrs. 

 Cockburn's version of " The Elowers of the Eorest," which is said 

 to have referred directly to pecuniary losses which weeded out 

 some of the popular land owners, the " Flowers of the Forest " of 

 the authoress's own day. Beautiful as it is, it manifestly belongs in 

 its mode of thought to the eighteenth century. No one familiar 

 with our old ballad literature would ascribe to ancient Scottish 

 minstrelsy the fine stanza, so expressive when heard wedded to its 

 plaintive music : 



Oh, fickle Fortune, 



Why this cruel sporting ? 

 Oh, why still perplex us, poor sons of a day ? 



Nae mair your smiles can cheer me, 



Nae mair your frowns can fear me, 

 For the flowers of the forest are a' wede aWay. 



But no such modern mode of thought is discernible in the older 

 Version, of which this was confessedly an imitation ; and we strongly 



