The Douglass cam' frae Liddisdale,
Wi' the young laird o' Buccleuch ;
And there were Kerrs and Cockburns baith,
All knights of honour true.

Johnstone and Maxwell also cam
Their wooing skill to prove,

And young Cranstoun, of Crailing, too,
But he never told his love.

Among the rest frae southron land

There cam a knight of fame; He also sought the ladye's ear To tell his tale of flame.

But his was the love o' the gude green lands, But and the gowd sae free

And his was the love o' the gaudy glare

Which but delights the e'e.

And his was the love o' the faultless form

The rose and lillye dye

And he has sought the maiden's side

His artful tale to try.

He try'd at morn, he try'd at e'en,

The maiden's heart to move;

But when he told his artful tale,
Her answer was na love.

But sae it fell on a bonny summer night
As the light begoud to lower,

The maid did walk in her green mantle
Alane by the lanely bower.

The star o' love frae 'boon the hill

Did glitter on the stream,

And musing was young Mary's mind,

Celestial was her theme

And never wist she till the southron knight
Did break the waking dream.

Now give me love, thou proud maiden,
Gi'e love for love again;

Uncourteous was the southron knight,
The ladye all disdain.

O! darksome was the lonely bower,
And tender was her fame

And he has tried to force the mud
To do the deed o' shame,

She couldna bow the arm o' strength,-
O, gin her heart was sair!

But little wist he o' the girdle o' heaven
That keepit her virtue fair.

There's nane that wears our ladye's belt
May yield to guilty love;
And he that tries ungentle skaith
Himsel' the skaith shall prove.

There was a say, I have heard it said,
Though I scarce believed it true,

That the southron knight from that day forth
No love of ladye knew.

There was a say, I have heard it said,
Though I gave no ear the while,
That from that day no am'rous maid
Upon his love wad smile.

The seasons cam', the seasons went
In sunshine or in shade;

The spring could see the flow'rets flush
And autumn see them fade :

But Time might come, or Time might go,
And lovelier still was the maid.

There was young Buccleuch frae Branksome ha,'
And Douglass frae Liddesdale,
The young Cranstoun frae Crailing tower,
But he never told his tale.

O his was the love of kind esteem-
Of kind esteem from friendship sprung;
O his was the love o' the constant heart,
Which sits far deeper than the tongue.

Though narrow was fair Crailing's land,
And little wealth could he display,
But a trusty heart and a ready hand-
Ready alike for friend and fae.

O he was the lord o' the keenest sword,
And he was the lord o' the lealest love;
And he was the lord o' the feeling heart
That helpless misery aye could move;
But rue the hour would pride and power
The might of Cranstoun's arm to prove.

Why does Lord Cranstoun thoughtfully stray
In Crailing's flushing vale?

O he is in love with a fair maiden,
And he winna tell his tule.

O some wad ride at Valour's ring,
Some danced in Beauty's ha'-
And some to Beauty told their tale,
But the owerword still was, na.

But it sae fell out in a sweet evening,
She sought the bower alane,

And young Cranstoun has followed her
In love's delicious pain;

And he faultered forth revealings soft,
And the maiden blushed again.

My wealth is sma, quo' the young

It canna please the e'e;

Cranstoun,

But the heart of love, and the hand of weir

I gi'e them baith to thee.

And the maiden smiled with a kindly smile,—

He pledged to her his earliest love,
Sae tender and sae true!

And she gave him her maiden kiss
To seal the solemn vow.

Three little weeks they cam' and went :
O merry was the morning tide,
When a proud array to Jedworth gray,
Through autumn dews could ride,
And a lady bright was led by her knight,
To the holy altar's side.