'POETRY.

THE BORDER LOVERS.

[By Border Law (administered at the time of this ballad by Lord &rope as English and the Eon of Bucclench as Scottish Warden of the Marches) inter- marriage between the two races was a capital offence on both sides of the Tweed. Ilairibee. sow. suburb of Carlisle:wan of old. its place of execution.] OH, South and away where the King's writ runs

The law is harsh, I trow, Where they burn i' the hand for a naked brand And hang for a lit ted cow; But from Carlisle Wa' to the Hermitage Both North and South the Tweed, 'Tis Warden-law for great and sma.'

Takes tent of word and deed.

And I ha' broken the Border Lair, • And the weird that I must dree Is to know no rest, ride East or West, Till I ride to Hairibee.

For I kept troth wi' my Scottish love And Mess John blessed the ring, So I may not bide on the Scottish side Nor under the English King.

For the Good Lord Scrope has sworn an oath Against my May and me That she shall burn and I shall learn To ride the Horse o' Tree: .

And they hunted us south from Solway Moss, Buccleuch and his Marshal-men, Last Lammas morn wi hound and horn, As ye hunt a stag of ten.

So a: broken man am I, in tooth, And my band mast keep my bead;

And the only one when all is done Who'll weep when I lie dead Is the lass who rides at my bridle-rein

And shares my jeopardie, Who left her home and kin to roam O'er moss and moor wi' me.

But the good is gained though the price be high !

Thoughbome and friends be far, There is little loss in a bed of moss At the 'Inn o' the Naked Star ' : For my true love's kisses are more to me Than goods and gear and all, And she lies as warm in the crook o' my arm

As she did in her father's hall.

But her seven bold brothers may watch and ward,

Her father bold the key, ,

His cows will go 'ere the watchmen know • To feed my May and me : And the traitor loon that holds my. lands May arm free top to toe,

But the house and kin that once were mine

Shall see the Red Cock crow. •

And as I fare on the Border side, By Oak und.aah arid thorn,

If I Meet Buccleimh gar him rue That he put'me to the horn! - And-if I meet the Good Lord Scrope By thorn and ask and oak,

Betide what May from forth that day

Hell need no hood to his eldak.._. .

JAMES KNIGHT-ADXIN.