Shoot an arrow frae thy bow and there let me lye, And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.

"And when that ye see I am lying cauld and

dead,

The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, Then ye'll put me in a grave wi' a turf at my head, And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."

Now when he heard her gie a loud, loud cry,

The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly, Now they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.

He has houkit a grave that was lang and was deep, The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, And he has buried his sister wi' her babie at her feet,

And they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.

And when he came hame to his father's court ha', The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,

There was music and minstrels and dancing 'mang them a',

But they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.

"O Willie! O Willie! what makes thee in pain?" The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, "I have lost a sheath and knife that I'll never see again,

For we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."

"There are ships o' your father's sailing on the

sea,

The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee,

And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."

There are ships o' my father's sailing on the

sea,

The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, But sic a sheath and knife they can never bring to me!

Now we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair!"

YOUNG JOHNSTONE.

For the first complete copy of this Ballad, the public is indebted to the late ingenious Mr. Finlay of Glasgow, in whose collection it appeared, prefaced with the following notice :-"A fragment of this fine old Ballad has been repeatedly published under the title of 'The Cruel Knight.' The present edition has been completed from two recited copies. Young Johnstone's reason for being 'sae late a coming in,' has been suppressed, as well as a concluding stanza of inferior merit, in which the catastrophe is described in a manner quite satisfactory, but not very poetical."

The present copy of this excellent Ballad was obtained from recitation; for a few verbal emendations recourse has been had to Mr. Finlay's copy; but those parts which that Gentleman's taste led him to reject, the Editor of this compilation did not conceive himself warranted to suppress. Refinement in matters of taste may be carried to a pernicious extreme; and, in an Editor of Ancient Poetry, too much delicacy in this respect may oftentimes be a very questionable virtue.

The reciters of old ballads frequently supply the best commentaries upon them, when any obscurity or want of connection appears in the poetical narrative. This Ballad, as it stands, throws no light on young Johnstone's motive for stabbing his lady; but the person from whose lips it was taken down alleged, that the barbarous act was committed unwittingly through young Johnstone's suddenly waking from sleep, and in that moment of confusion and alarm, unhappily mistaking his mistress for one of his pursuers. It is not improbable but the Ballad

may have had at one time a stanza to the above effect, the substance of which is still remembered, though the words in which it was couched have been forgotten. At all events it is a more likely inference than that which Mr. Gilchrist has chosen to draw from the same premises. See a Collection of Ancient and Modern Scottish Ballads, Tales, and Songs, with Explanatory Notes and Observations, by John Gilchrist, Vol. I. p. 185. Edin. 1815.

YOUNG Johnstone and the young Col'nel

Sat drinking at the wine;

"O gin ye wad marry my sister, It's I wad marry thine."

"I wadna marry your sister,
For a' your houses and land;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come o'er the strand.

"I wadna marry your sister,
For a' your gowd so gay ;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come by the way."

Young Johnstone had a nut brown sword,
Hung low down by his gair,

And he ritted it through the young Col'nel, That word he ne'er spak mair.

But he's awa' to his sister's bower,
He's tirled at the pin;

"Whare hae ye been, my

Sae late a coming in?"

dear brither,

“ I hae been at the school, sister, Learning young clerks to sing."

I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,
I wish it may be for good;

They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
And the young Col'nel was dead."

"Hawks and hounds they may seek me,

As I trow well they be ;

For I have killed the young Col'nel,
And thy own true love was he."

"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,

O dule and wae is me;

But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows, And hae nae power to flee."