KEMPION,

We are again indebted for this ballad to the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." It is there given "chiefly from Mrs. Brown's MS., with corrections from a revised fragment." How the knights of the olden time slew huge dragons and other monsters, has been sufficiently said and sung in all countries. Scott, in his introduction to this ballad, alludes to several stories of their prowess still current in Scotland and on the Borders. England and Ireland have their own, and to this day the very scenes of supposed encounters between man and beast are pointed out with superstitious awe. "The ballad of Kempion," writes Sir Walter Scott, "seems, from the names of the personages, and the nature of the adventure, to have been an old metrical romance, degraded into a ballad by the lapse of time and the corruption of reciters." Its peculiarity consists in the fact of the hero putting himself within the power of the monster, in order to dissolve a charm by his "kisses three," instead of making a fierce onslaught according to the more usual and approved mode. The courage of the knight, however, seems to have been tried by a test more than commonly severe.

• CUM heir, cum heir, ye freely fee'd,

And lay your head low on my knee,

The heaviest weird I will you read,

That ever was read to gay ladye.

'O meikle dolour sall ye dree,

And aye the salt seas o'er ye 'se swim ;

And far mair dolour sall ye dree

And by my sooth,' said Segramour.

'My ae brother, I'll gang wi' thee.'—

Then bigged hae they a bonny boat,

And they hae set her to the sea;
But a mile before they reached the shore,'
Around them she gared the red fire flee.

On Estmere crags, when ye them climb. O Segramour, keep the boat afloat,

'I weird ye to a fiery beast,

And relieved sall ye never be,

Till Kempion, the kingis son,

And let her na the land o'er near;
For this wicked beast will sure gae mad,
And set fire to a' the land and mair.'-

Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss thee.'- Syne has he bent an arblast bow,

THE CHILDE OF ELLE.

IN first publishing this delightful ballad in his " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," Dr. Percy admits that he put it into its present shape, the fragment which served him as an original being mutilated and defective. He modestly says that "the reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauty of the original." Mr. Hall, however, thinks it probable from his researches, that the original manuscript furnished only a rough outline, and that in truth, the Childe of Elle may fairly be called the composition of Dr. Percy. It is undoubtedly of Scottish origin, and there are several other versions of the same story current. But the accomplished prelate has given a more pleasant finale to his tale than that usually received. The ballad, as given by Sir Walter Scott, portrays a most tragical adventure, Lord William, the hero, having slain his lady love's father and seven brethren, who interfered to arrest his progress, he himself dying of his wounds, and the Lady Margaret, we presume, of a broken heart. The concluding ejaculation of the last stanza of that version is natural enough after so deep a tragedy. "Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,