And till the kirk she wadna gae,

Nor till❜t she wadna ride,

Till four-and-twenty men she gat her before,

And twenty on ilka side,

And four-and-twenty milk white dows

To flee aboon her head.

A loud lauchter gae Lord Wa'yates,
'Mang the mids o' his men;
"Marry that lady wha that will,
A maiden she is nane.”

"O leuch ye at my men, Wa'yates,

Or did ye lauch at ine?

Or leuch ye at the bierdly bride,
That's gaun to marry me

"I leuchna at your men, uncle,
Nor yet leuch I at thee;

But I leuch at my lands so braid,
Sae weel's I do them see.”

When e'en was come, and e'en-bells rung,

And a' man gane to bed,

The bride but and the silly bridegroom

In ae chamber were laid.

Wasna't a fell thing for to see
Twa heads upon a cod;

Lady Maisery's like the mo'ten goud,
Auld Ingram's like a toad.

He turn'd his face unto the stock,
And sound he fell asleep;

She turn'd her face unto the wa',
And saut tears she did weep.

It fell about the mirk midnicht,
Auld Ingram began to turn him;
He put his hand on's ladie's side,
And waly sair was she mournin'.

"What aileth thee, my lady dear?
Ever alas, and wae is me!
There is a babe betwixt thy sides,-
Oh! sae sair's it grieves me!"

"O didna I tell ye, auld Ingram,

Ere

ye socht me to wed,

That Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,

Had been into my bed?"

"Then father that bairn on me Maisery;

O father that bairn on me; And ye sall hae a rigland shire Your mornin' gift to be."

"O sarbit," says the Ladie Maisery,
"That ever the like me befa',

To father my bairn on auld Ingram,
Lord Wa'yates in my father's ha’.

"O sarbit,” says the Ladie Maisery,
"That ever the like betide,
To father my bairn on auld Ingram,
And Lord Wa'yates beside."

A

CHRISTMAS CARROL.

BY GEORGE WITHER. *

So, now is come our joyfulst feast;

Let every man be jolly;

Each room with ivy leaves is drest,

And every post with holly.

Though some churls at our mirth repine,

Round your foreheads garlands twine;
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.

* For accounts of this very voluminous and very unequal wri ter, see “ Athena Oxonienses," the " Reliques of Antient English Poetry," and Mr Ellis's very elegant publication, entitled, "Specimens of early English Poets."

YOL. JI.

Now, all our neighbours' chimnies smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;

Their ovens they with bak'd meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lye;
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury't in a Christmas pie,
And ever more be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour;

Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor;

Young men and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys;

And

you anon shall by their noise Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun;

Their hall of music soundeth;

And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country folks themselves advance
With crowdy-muttons out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jyll shall dance,

And all the town be merry.