THE TWA BROTHERS.

An' oh! that hour, that hallow't hour,

My fond heart will never forget;

131

Though drear is the dule I hae suffered sin syne,
That hour gars my heart beat, beat warmly yet.

The parting time cam', an' the parting time past,
An' it past without the saut tear;

An' awa' to anither an' far awa' land
I gaed, an' I left my ain dear.

I gaed, an' though ither an' brichter maids
Wad smile wi' fond love in their e'e;

I but thocht o' the sweet green bower by the Clyde,
An' that was enough for me.

THE TWA BROTHERS.

"OH! will ye gang to the schule, billie,
Or will ye gang to the ba';
Or gang to the wood a-warslin,

To see whilk o' us maun fa'!"

"I winna gang to the schule, billie,
Nor will I gang to the ba';
But I'll gang to the wood a-warslin,
And there it's you maun fa'."

They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;

And there was a knife in Willie's pouch
Gied him a deadly wound.

"O billie, lift me on your back;

Tak me to yon wallie fair,

And wash the blude frae aff my wound,
And it will blude nae mair."

HUNTER.

He's liftet him up upon his back,
Ta'en him to yon wallie fair,

And washed the blude frae aff his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.

"O billie, tak aff my Holland sark, And rive't frae gair to gair, And stap it in my bluidy wound,

An' syne it will blude nae mair."

He has ta'en aff his Holland sark,
And riven't frae gair to gair,
And stap't it in to the bluidy wound,
But aye
it bled mair and mair.

"O brother dear! tak me on your back,
Tak me to yon kirkyard,

And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there.

"When ye gang hame to our faither dear,
He'll speir for his son John;

Say ye left him at Carnwath schule,
Learnin' the schule alone.

"And when ye gang hame to your sister fair, She'll speir for her brother John;

Ye'll say ye left him at the White Loch,
But ye fear he'll never come hame.

"When ye gang hame to my true love,
She'll speir for her loved John;
Say that ye left him at Carnwath Fair,
ye fear he's dead and gone."

But

THE TWA BROTHERS.

Sae Willie bas buried his brother dear
Beneath the sod so green,

And when the doleful task was done,
It's homeward he has gone.

Oh, heavy, heavy was his heart,
As to the door he cam;

But when he reached his faither's chair,
He grew baith pale and wan.

"What blude is that upon your brow,
My dear son, tell to me?"

"It's but the blude o' my gude grey steed,
He wadna ride wi' me."

Oh, thy steed's blude was never so red,
Nor ever so dear to me!"

"Then it's the blude o' my dear brother;
Oh, dule and woe is me!"

66

Now, whatna death will ye dee, Willie;
Now, Willie, come tell to me?"

"Ye'll put me in an oarless boat,

And I'll gae sail the sea."

"And when will ye come hame, Willie;

Dear Willie, come tell to me?"

133

"When the sun and mune dance on Carnwath Green, And that will never be !"

He turned himsel' right round about,

And his heart it burst in three.

My ae best son is dead and gone,

And my t'other ane I'll ne'er see!"

This ballad refers to a tragical event in the noble family of Somerville, which is thus detailed in the "Memorie of the Somervilles :"-This year (1589), in the month of July, there fell out a sad accident, as a farther warning that God was displeased with the family. The Lord Somerville, having come from Cowthally early in the morning; in regard the weather was hot, he had ridden hard to be at the Drum by 10 o'clock, which

having done he laid him down to rest. (Drum is about four miles south from Edinburgh, and was then in the possession of the Somervilles.) The servant with his horses; William, Master of Somerville, and John his brother, went with the horses to ane shott of land, called the Pretty Shott, directly opposite the front of the house, where there was some meadow ground for grazing the horses, and willows to shadow them from the heat. They had not long continued in this place when the Master of Somerville, after some little rest, awakening from his sleep, and finding the pistols that lay hard by him wet with dew, began to rub and dry them, when unhappily one of them went off the ratch. Being lying upon his knee, and the muzzle turned sideways, the ball struck his brother John directly in the head and killed him outright; so his sorrowful brother never had one word from him, albeit he begged it with many tears! The Master of Somerville, who thus accidentally occasioned his brother's death, in about three years after followed him to the tomb. He died at Cowthally in January, 1592, about the 27th year of his age, and was buried in the aisle of Carnwath; and with him perished all hope and expectation of the house of Cowthally. It was no less truly than prophetically spoken by a devout gentleman, William Inglis of Eastshiel, who was himself as well his predecessors great lovers and followers of the Lords Somerville-employed by them for the most part as their Bailie in the Barony of Carnwath ;-this good gentleman, as the corpse passed the outer gate of Cowthally, struck upon his breast, and cried out in the hearing of many, "This day the head is as clean taken off the house of Cowthally, as you would strike off the head of a sybba;" and indeed so it proved, for from that day all things went cross.

WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.

WILLIE stands at his stable door,

And clappin' at his steed,

And lookin' owre his white fingers
His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn unto my horse, mother,
Gie meat unto my man,

For I maun gang to Margaret's bower
Before the nicht comes on.

"O stay at hame, my dear son Willie,
The win' blaws cauld and dour,
The nicht will be baith mirk and late
Before you reach her door."

WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.

"O though the nicht were never sae dark,
Or the win' blew never sae cauld,
I will be in my Margaret's bower
Before twa hours be tauld."

"O gin ye gang to May Margaret
Without the leave o' me,

Clyde's water's wide and deep enough-
My malison drown thee."

"The gude steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thritty pound,
And I'll put trust in his swift feet
To bear me safe to land."

He mounted on his gude swift steed,
And fast he rode awa',

But ere he cam' to Clyde's waters
Fu' loud the win' did blaw.

As he rode owre yon hie, hie hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The roar that was in Clyde's waters
Wad feared a hundred men.

"O roarin' Clyde, ye roar owre loud,
Your stream is wondrous strang;
Mak' me your wreck as I come back,
But spare me as I gang."

So he has swam the Clyde water,
Though it was wide and deep,
And he cam' to May Margaret's door
When all were fast asleep.

Oh, he's gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin ;

But doors were steekit and windows barred,
And none wad let him in.

135