III.

LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY.

This excellent song is ancient: but we could only give it from a modern copy.

For receipt of a fly;

Where the midge dares not venture,

Lest herself fast she lay;

If love come, he will enter,

15

And soon find out his way.

You

You may esteem him

A child for his might;

Or you may deem him

A coward from his flight:

20

But if she, whom love doth honour,
Be conceal'd from the day,

IV.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET,

A SCOTTISH BALLAD,

-seems to be composed (not without improvements) out of two ancient English ones, printed in the former part of this volume. See book I. ballad XV. and book II. ballad IV.-If this had been the original, the authors of those two ballads would hardly have adopted two such different stories: besides, this contains enlargements not to be found in either of the others. is given, with some corrections, from a MS copy transmitted from Scotland.

LORD Thomas and fair Annet

Sate a' day on a hill;

Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
They had not talkt their fill.

It

O rede, O rede, mither, he says,

O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,

15

A gude rede gie to mee:

And let faire Annet bee?

The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,

Fair Annet she has gat nane;

And the little beauty fair Annet has,

O it wull soon be gane!

And he has till his brother gane :
Now, brother, rede ye mee;

A' sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And let fair Annet bee?

20

The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,

25

The nut-browne bride has kye;

I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,

And cast fair Annet bye.

Her oxen may dye i' the house, Bille,

And her kye into the byre;

And I sall hae nothing to my sell,

Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.

And he has till his sister gane :

Now, sister, rede ye mee;

O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And set fair Annet free?

Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane;
Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!

What is this we brought hame?

No, I will tak my mithers counsel,
And marrie me owt o' hand;

And I will tak the nut-browne bride;

40

Fair Annet may leive the land.

Up then rose fair Annets father

45

Twa hours or it wer day,

And he is gane into the bower,
Wherein fair Annet lay.

Rise

up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,

Put on your silken sheene;

Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,

And see that rich weddeen.

My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,

And dress to me my hair;

Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,

See yee lay ten times mair.

My maids, gae to my dressing-room,

And dress to me my smock
The one half is o' the holland fine,

The other o' needle-work

50

55

60

The