Began full fast to weepe.

"Weepe not," said shee," but shutt the dores

No creature being nye,

130

And with one sighe, which brake her hart,

This is a very ancient song, but we could only give it from a modern copy. Some editions, instead of the four last lines in the second stanza, have these, which have too much merit to be wholly suppressed:

"When cockle shells turn siller bells,

And muscles grow on every tree,

When frost and snaw sall warm us aw',
Then sall my love prove true to me.'

See the Orpheus Caledonius, &c.

Arthur's-seat, mentioned in verse 17, is a hill near Edinburgh; at the bottom of which is St. Anthony's well.

O WALY, waly up the bank,

And waly, waly down the brae,

And waly, waly yon burn side,

Where I and my love wer wont to gae.

I leant my back unto an aik,

I thought it was a trusty tree;

But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lichtly me.

5

I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd,

35

And pinnd it with a siller pin.

And, oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurses knee,

And I my sell were dead and gane!

For a maid again Ise never be.

40

XII.

The Wanton Wife of Bath.1

From an ancient copy in black-print, in the Pepys Collection. Mr. Addison has pronounced this an excellent ballad. See the Spectator, No. 248.

"And here no place shalt have;

"And so art thou, I trowe," quoth shee,
"And eke a' doting knave."

15

"I will come in in spight," she sayd,
"Of all such churles as thee;

Thou wert the causer of our woe,

Our paine and misery;

"And first broke God's commandiments,

"In pleasure of thy wife:

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When Adam heard her tell this tale,

He ranne away for life.

Ver. 16. Now gip you. P.

20

This ballad was admitted by Percy into the earlier editions of the Reliques, though excluded from the revised edition of 1794.-Editor.

Then downe came Jacob at the gate,

25

And bids her packe to hell:

"Thou false deceiving knave," quoth she,

"How now," quoth she, "thou drunken ass, Who bade thee here to prate?

35

And thus most tauntingly she chaft
Against poor silly Lot.

"Who calleth there," quoth Judith then,
"With such shrill sounding notes ?"

"With thy two daughters thou didst lye, On them two bastardes got:

40

"This fine minkes surely came not here,"

Quoth she, "for cutting throats!"

Good Lord, how Judith blush'd for shame,
When she heard her say soe!

45

King David hearing of the same,

He to the gate would goe.

Quoth David, "Who knockes there so loud,

And maketh all this strife?"

50

"You were more kinde, good sir," she sayd, "Unto Uriah's wife.