ome years ago," but the fact is that the "Laidley Worm,"--which
is neither more nor less than a very poor version of the old Scots
Ballad, "Kempion"--was, according to Sir Walter Scott, "_either entirely
composed, or rewritten_, by the Rev. Mr Lamb of Norham," and had been so
often published, that it was not thought worth while to insert it in the
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. For the same reason, and for its
inferior quality, it was kept out of Mr S. C. Hall's "Book of British
Ballads." Intrinsically it is so bad, that Mr Sheldon himself might have
written it in a moment of extraordinary inspiration; indeed the
following three verses, are in every way worthy of his pen;--

"He sprinkled her with three drops o' the well,
In her palace where she stood;
When she grovelled down upon her belly,
A foul and loathsome toad.

And on the lands, near Ida's towers,
A loathsome toad she crawls,
And venom spits on every thing,
Which cometh to the walls.

The virgins all of Bamborough town,
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad of monstrous size,
Whilst walking in the green."

We are now coolly asked to believe that this stuff was written in the
fourteenth century, and reprinted, seven years ago, from an ancient
manuscript. But we must not be surprised at any thing from a gentleman
who seems impressed with the idea that the Chronicles of Roger Hoveden
are written in the English language.

We next come to a ballad entitled "The Outlandish Knight," whereof Mr
Sheldon gives us the following history. "This ballad I have copied from
a broadsheet, in the possession of a gentleman of Newcastle; it has also
been published in 'Richardson's Table Book.' _The verses with inverted
commas_, I added at the suggestion of a friend, as it was thought that
the Knight was not rendered sufficiently odious, without this new trait
of his dishonour."

So far well; but Mr Sheldon ought, at the same time, to have had the
candour to tell us the source from which he pilfered those verses. His
belief in the ignorance and gullibility of the public must indeed be
unbounded, if he expected to pass off without discovery a vamped version
of "May Collean." That fine ballad is to be found in the collections of
Herd, Sharpe, Motherwell, and Chambers; and seldom, indeed, have we met
with a case of more palpable cribbage, as the following specimen will
demonstrate:--

MAY COLLEAN.