The Douglass cam' frae Liddisdale,
Wi' the young laird o' Buccleuch ;
And there were Kerrs and Cockburns baith,
All knights of honour true.

Johnstone and Maxwell also cam

Their wooing skill to prove,

And young Cranstoun, of Crailing, too,
But he never told his love.

Among the rest frae southron land
There cam a knight of fame;
He also sought the ladye's ear
To tell his tale of flame.

But his was the love o' the gude green lands,
But and the gowd sae free-

And his was the love o' the gaudy glare
Which but delights the e'e.

And his was the love o' the faultless formThe rose and the lillye dye

And he has sought the maiden's side

His artful tale to try.

He try'd at morn, he try'd at e'en,
The maiden's heart to move;

But when he told his artful tale,
Her answer was na love.

But sae it fell on a bonny summer night
As the light begoud to lower,

The maid did walk in her green mantle
Alane by the lanely bower.

The star o' love frae 'boon the hill

Did glitter on the stream,

And musing was young Mary's mind,

Celestial was her theme

And never wist she till the southron knight Did break the waking dream.

Now give me love, thou proud maiden,

Gi'e love for love again;

Uncourteous was the southron knight,
The ladye all disdain.

O! darksome was the lonely bower,
And tender was her frame-

And he has tried to force the maid
To do the deed o' shame.

She couldna bow the arm o' strength,-
O, gin her heart was sair!

But little wist he o' the girdle o' heaven
That keepit her virtue fair.

There's nane that wears our Ladye's belt
May yield to guilty love;

And he that tries ungentle skaith
Himsel' the skaith shall prove.

There was a say, I have heard it said,
Though I scarce believed it true,

That the southron knight from that day forth
No love of ladye knew.

There was a say, I have heard it said,
Though I gave no ear the while,

That from that day no am'rous maid
Upon his love wad smile.

The seasons cam', the seasons went

In sunshine or in shade ;

The Spring could see the flow'rets flush

And autumn see them fade:

But Time might come, or Time might go,
And lovelier still was the maid.

'Tis fair to see the king of day

Frae the burnished ocean springing

'Twas fairer to see the maid walk forth, And the little birds a singing.

The matins were meet and the vespers sweet

In Jedworth's holy fane;

But far more sweet i' the ear o' heaven

The maiden's simple strain.

And evermore in hall or bower

Were gallants not a few

And vows they vowed, some false I wis,
And some I ween were true;

And aye the angels wad listen and look
As through the lift they flew.

O some cam' east, and some cam' west,
And some cam' mony mile to see-
O she was joy to every heart,

O she was light to every e'e.

There was young Buccleuch frae Branksome ha',
And Douglass frae Liddesdale,

The young Cranstoun frae Crailing tower,
But he never told his tale.

O his was the love of kind esteem

Of kind esteem from friendship sprung; O his was the love o' the constant heart, Which sits far deeper than the tongue.

Though narrow was fair Crailing's land,
And little wealth could he display,
But a trusty heart and a ready hand-
Ready alike for friend and fae.

O he was the lord o' the keenest sword,
And he was the lord o' the lealest love;
And he was the lord o' the feeling heart

That helpless misery aye could move;
But rue the hour would pride and power
The might of Cranstoun's arm to prove.

Why does Lord Cranstoun thoughtfully stray
In Crailing's flushing vale ?

O he is in love with a fair maiden,
And he winna tell his tale.

O some wad ride at Valour's ring,
Some danced in Beauty's ha'-
And some to Beauty told their tale,

But the owerword still was, na.

But it sae fell out in a sweet evening,
She sought the bower alane,

And young Cranstoun has followed her
In love's delicious pain;

And he faultered forth revealings soft,
And the maiden blushed again.

My wealth is sma, quo' the young Cranstoun,
It canna please the e'e;

But the heart of love, and the hand of weir
I gi'e them baith to thee.

And the maiden smiled with a kindly smile,-
Thy love is all to me.

He pledged to her his earliest love,

Sae tender and sae true;

And she gave him her maiden kiss
To seal the solemn vow.

Three little weeks they cam' and went:
O merry was the morning tide,
When a proud array to Jedworth gray,
Through autumn dews could ride,

And a lady bright was led by her knight,
To the holy altar's side.

NOTE. Although the scene of the above Ballad is laid on the Scottish side of the Border, we have been induced to insert it. The tradition is not peculiar to Scotland, and the mention of Cheviot and the introduction of several English Border names, but above all the poetical excellence of the composition are we hope a sufficient apology.-Ed. T. B.

Edward Lawson.

FROM THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 1806.

DWARD LAWSON, of Sunderland, a native of Northumberland, was for many years settled in the parish of Bishopwearmouth, where he rented successively several small farms, particularly at Hendon Grange, near Ryhope, and in the vicinity of Hilton Ferry. During his residence at the latter place, when he had nearly attained his 80th year, his occupation becoming unprofitable, he gave up his farm, and engaged himself in the service of a gentleman in the same neighbourhood, by whom he was employed in the fields or stable, or in such other work as he was capable of attending to, being always considered trusty and well disposed. As he had long prided himself on his dexterity in mowing, when he was almost ninety, he anxiously solicited his employer for the loan of a guinea, to wager against the skill of a much younger competitor. For the last fifteen years of his life, he resided in Sunderland, in the house of a grand-daughter, by whom, with the assistance of other descendants, he was decently and respectably maintained; still, however, keeping up his connexion occasionally with the family of his late master, who had removed into the environs of the town. Being one day, when he was upwards of a hundred years old, requested by his mistress to purchase her some fowls, with an expectation that he would bring them from the market, which was held very near his own residence in Sunderland, he set out on foot for a village seven miles distant, where he had some acquaintance, and having procured some fowls of a superior quality, returned home from his marketing without delay. He was a strong muscular man, about five feet six inches high; he was simple and of an easy temper, never distressing himself about any thing beyond the occurrence of the moment, a circumstance which probably contributed much to the prolongation of his life. Having never been afflicted with any species of infirmity or ill health, he retained his bodily vigour to a very late period, and his other faculties, with the exception of his sight which failed him in his last year, to his death at the advanced age of 106, in the summer of 1805. He left a son upwards of 70, whom he always called his lad, a man of stouter make than his father, who bore at the moment of the death of his venerable sire every appearance of reaching a very advanced age.