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“I ha'e been west, I ha'e been east,
I ha'e seen dangers many a ane; But for a bauld and dauntless breast,
Lord Liddisdale will yield to nane.
“An' were I called to face the foe,
An' bidden chuse my leader free; Lord Liddisdale would be the man
Should lead me on to victory.
[“O haud your tongue, my brother John!
Though I have heard you patientlie, Lord Liddisdale is dead an' gone,
An' he was slain for love o' me.
“My little true an' trusty page
Has brought the heavy news to me, That my ain lord did him engage
Where he could nouther ficht nor flee.
“Four o' the foremost men he slew,
An' four he wounded despratelie; But cruel Douglas came behind,
An' ran him through the fair bodie.]
“O wae be to the Ettrick wood!
O wae be to the banks of Ale! O wae be to the dastard croud
That murder'd handsome Liddisdale !
[“ It wasna rage for Ramsey slain
That raised the deadly feid sae hie ;] Nor perjur'd Murray's timeless death
It was for kindness shown to me.
[“When I was led through Liddisdale,
An' thirty horsemen guarding me; When that gude lord came to my aid,
Sae soon as he did set me free !]
“The wild bird sang, and woodlands rang,
An' sweet the sun shone on the vale ; Then thinkna ye my heart was wae
To part wi' gentle Liddisdale.
“But I will greet for Liddisdale,
Until my twa black een rin dry; An' I will wail for Liddisdale,
As lang as I ha’e voice to cry.
“And for that gude lord I will sigh
Until my heart an' spirit fail; An', when I die, O bury me
On the left side of Liddisdale."
"Now haud your tongue, my sister dear,
Your grief will cause baith dule an’ shame Since ye were fause, in sic a cause,
The Douglas' rage I canna blame.”
"Gae stem the bitter norlan' gale;
Gae bid the wild wave cease to rowe; I'll own my love for Liddisdale
Afore the king, my lord, an' you."
He drew his sword o' stained steel,
While neid-fire gleam'd frae ilka eye, Nor pity, nor remorse did feel,
Till dead she at his feet did lye.
"cruel man! what ha'e I done?
I never wrong'd my lord nor thee; I little thought my brother John
Could ha'e the heart to murder me."
Sunk was her een, her voice was gane,
Her bonny face was pale as clay, Her hands she rais'd to heaven for
Then fainted, sank, and died away.
He dight his sword upon the ground;
Wi' tentless glare his een did rowe, Till fixing on the throbbing wound
That stain'd her breast of purest snow.
He cry'd, “O lady, fause an' fair!
Now thou art dead and I undone !
“ Owr mountains, seas, an' burnin' sand,
I'll seek the plains of Italie ;
An' syne come back an' sleep wi' thee."
THE real name of this famous warlock was Johnston ;
how he came to acquire that of Wilkin I can get no information, though his name and his pranks are well known in Annandale and Nithsdale. He seems to have been an abridgment of Mr Michael Scott ; but, though his .powers were exhibited on a much more narrow scale, they were productivo of actions yet more malevolent.
The glow-worm goggled on the moss
When Wilkin rode away,
But wist not what to say.
For near the change of every moon,
At deepest midnight tide,
That stands by Kinnel side.
His thoughts were absent, wild his looks,
His speeches fierce and few;