'And see ye not that braid braid road, That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness,

Though some call it the road to heaven.

'And see ye not that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae.

'But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,

Whatever ye may hear or see; For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie.'

O they rade on, and farther on,

And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,

And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,

And they waded through red blude to the knee;

For a' the blude that 's shed on earth Rins through the springs o' that

countrie.

Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;

It will give thee the tongue that can never lie.'

'My tongue is mine ain,' true Thomas said;

'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought to buy nor sell,

At fair or tryst where I may be.

'I dought neither speak to prince or peer,

Nor ask of grace from fair ladye.' Now hold thy peace!' the lady said, 'For as I say, so must it be.'

He put his hand on the Earlie's head; Heshow'd him a rock beside the sea, Where a king lay stiff beneath his steed,

And steel-dight nobles wiped their

ee.

'The neist curse lights on Branxton hills:

By Flodden's high and heathery side, Shall wave a banner red as blude, And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride.

'A Scottish King shall come full keen, The ruddy lion beareth he; A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween,

Shall make him wink and warre to

see.

'When he is bloody, and all to-bledde,

Thus to his men he still shall say"For God's sake, turn ye back again,

And give yon southern folk a fray! Why should I lose? the right is mine!

My doom is not to die this day."

'Yet turn ye to the eastern hand,

And woe and wonder ye sall see; How forty thousand spearmen stand, Where yon rank river meets the sea.

'There shall the lion lose the gylte,

And the libbards bear it clean away; At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt Much gentil bluid that day.'

'Enough, enough, of curse and ban; Some blessings show thou now to me, Or, by the faith o' my bodie,' Corspatrick said,

'Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!'

'The first of blessings I shall thee show,

Is by a burn that 's call'd of bread; Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, And find their arrows lack the head.

1 Bannock-burn,

'Beside that brigg, out-ower that burn, Where the water bickereth bright and sheen,

Shall many a fallen courser spurn,

And knights shall die in battle keen. 'Beside a headless cross of stone,

The libbards there shall lose thegree: The raven shall come, the erne shall go, And drink the Saxon bluid sae free. The cross of stone they shall not know, So thick the corses there shall be.' 'But tell me now,' said brave Dunbar, 'True Thomas, tell now unto me, What man shall rule the isle Britain, Even from the north to the southern sea?'

'A French Queen shall bear the son, Shall rule all Britain to the sea; He of the Bruce's blood shall come, As near as in the ninth degree. 'The waters worship shall his race; Likewise the waves of the farthest

sea;

For they shall ride over ocean wide, With hempen bridles, and horse of tree.'

PART III. (MODERN.)

WHEN seven years more were come and gone,

Was war through Scotland spread, And Ruberslaw show'd high Dunyon His beacon blazing red.

Then all by bonny Coldingknow,

Pitch'd palliouns took their room, And crested helms, and spears a-rowe,

Glanced gaily through the broom.

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed,
Resounds the ensenzie;
They roused the deer from Cadden-
head,

To distant Torwoodlee.

She comes! she comes! like flash of flame

Can lovers' footsteps fly;

Upon the Irish shore.

To see her Tristrem die.

She saw him die; her latest sigh Join'd in a kiss his parting breath; The gentlest pair that Britain bare United are in death.

sound

Died slowly on the ear;

The silent guests still bent around,

For still they seem'd to hear.

Then woe broke forth in murmurs weak:

Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh; But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek Did many a gauntlet dry.

On Leader's stream and Learmont's tower

The mists of evening close; In camp, in castle, or in bower

Each warrior sought repose.

Lord Douglas in his lofty tent

Dream'd o'er the woeful tale; When footsteps light across the bent The warrior's ears assail.

He starts, he wakes: 'What, Richard, ho!

Arise, my page, arise!

In minstrel guise, he hung; And on the wind in doleful sound Its dying accents rung.

Then forth he went; yet turn'd him oft To view his ancient hall:

On the grey tower in lustre soft

The autumn moonbeams fall;

And Leader's waves like silver sheen
Danced shimmering in the ray;
In deepening mass, at distance seen,
Broad Soltra's mountains lay.

'Farewell, my fathers' ancient tower!
A long farewell,' said he :
'The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power
Thou never more shalt be.

'To Learmont's name no foot of earth Shall here again belong,

And on thy hospitable hearth

The hare shall leave her young.

'Adieu! adieu !' again he cried, All as he turn'd him roun’—

Dare step where Douglas lies?'

Then forth they rush'd: by Leader's tide,

A selcouth sight they see-
A hart and hind pace side by side,

As white as snow on Fairnalie.

Beneath the moon with gesture proud
They stately move and slow;
Nor scare they at the gathering crowd,
Who marvel as they go.

To Learmont's tower a message sped,
As fast as page might run;
And Thomas started from his bed,
And soon his clothes did on.

Farewell to Ercildoune !'

The hart and hind approach'd the place,
As lingering yet he stood;
And there, before Lord Douglas' face,
With them he cross'd the flood.

Lord Douglas leap'd on his berrybrown steed,

And spurr'd him the Leader o'er; But, though he rode with lightning speed,

He never saw them more.

Some said to hill, and some to glen,

Their wondrous course had been; But ne'er in haunts of living men Again was Thomas seen.