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With her yellow hair, that glittered fair,

• Now, welcome, noble Branxholm's heir ! She dried the trickling tear;

Thrice welcome,' quoth Soulis, “to me. She sighed the name of Branxholm's heir, Say, dost thou repair to my castle fair, The youth that loved her dear.

My wedding guest to be ?

And lovely May deserves, per fay, • Now, be content, my bonny May,

A bride-man such as thee!'
And take it for your hame;
Or ever and aye shall ye rue the day,

And broad and bloody rose the sum,
You heard young Branxholm's name.

And on the barmkin shone, "O'er Branxholm tower, ere the morning When the page was aware of Red Ringan hour,

there, When the lift is like lead sae blue,

Who came riding all alone. The smoke shall roll white on the weary night,

To the gate of the tower Lord Soulis hee And the flame shall shine dimly

speeds, through.'

As he lighted at the wall,

Says—Where did ye stable my stalwart Syne he's ca'd on him Ringan Red,

steeds, A sturdy kemp was he;

And where do they tarry all ?'
From friend, or foe, in Border feid,
Who never a foot would flee.

« We stabled them sure on the Tarras

Muir; Red Ringan sped, and the spearmen led

We stabled them sure,' quoth heUp Goranberry slack ;

• Before we could cross the quaking moss, Ay, many a wight, unmatched in fight, They all were lost but me.' Who never more came back.

He clenched his fist, and he knocked on And bloody set the westering sun,

the chest, And bloody rose he up;

And he heard a stifled groan; But little thought young Branxholm's heir And at the third knock each rusty lock Where he that night should sup.

Did open one by one.

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They heated it red and fiery hot,
Till the burnished brass did glimmer and

shine.

At the Skelf-hill, the cauldron still

The men of Liddesdale can show ; And on the spot, where they boil'd the pot, The spreat and the deer-hair ne'er shall

They rolled him up in a sheet of lead,

A sheet of lead for a funeral pall : They plunged him in the cauldron red, And melted him, lead, and bones and

grow.

all.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET.

This ballad is another extract from Percy's “ Reliques," wherein it is given with some corrections from

a M.S. copy transmitted from Scotland. Mr. Hall quotes several English versions. We give the title of one of these. “A Tragical Story on the unfortunate love of Lord Thomas and fair Ellinor, together with the downfal of the Brown Girl.” They differ from each other as to the catastrophe ; but the subject not being historical, these minor differences are unimportant. We doubt not that our Editor makes the best possible selection.

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