"'Loup off your steed,' says fause Sir John,
'Your bridal bed you see--
Here have I drowned eight ladies fair,
The ninth one you shall be.

'Cast off,' says he, 'thy jewels fine,
Sae costly and sae brave;
They are ower gude, and ower costly,
To throw in the sea-wave.

'Cast off, cast off, your Holland smock,
And lay it on this stone;
It is ower fine and ower costly,
To rot in the saut sea-foam.'

'Oh! Turn ye then about, Sir John,
And look to the leaf of the tree,--
It is not comely for a man
A naked woman to see.'

He turned himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf o' the tree;
She has twined her arms about his waist,
And thrown him into the sea."

OUTLANDISH KNIGHT.

"'Alight thee, from thy milk-white steed,
And deliver it unto me;
Six maids have I drowned where the billows sound,
And the seventh one thou shalt be.

'But first pull off thy kirtle fine,
And deliver it unto me;
Thy kirtle of green is too rich I ween
To rot in the salt, salt sea.

'Pull off, pull off thy bonny green plaid,
That floats in the breeze so free,
It is woven fine with the silver twine,
And comely it is to see.'

'If I must pull off my bonny silk plaid,
Oh turn thy back to me,
And gaze on the sun which has just begun
To peer owre the salt, salt sea.'

He turned his back on the fair damselle,
And looked upon the beam,--
She grasped him tight with her arms so white
And plunged him in the stream."

This, it must be acknowledged, is, to use the mildest phrase, an
instance of remarkable coincidence.

Notwithstanding the glibness of his preface, and the scraps of antique
information which he is constantly parading, Mr Sheldon absolutely knows
less about ballad poetry than any writer who has yet approached the
subject. As an editor, he was in duty bound to have looked over former
collections, and to have ascertained the originality of the wares which
he now proffers for our acceptance. He does not seem, however, to have
read through any one compilation of the Scottish ballads, and is
perpetually betraying his ignorance. For example, he gives us a ballad
called "The Laird of Roslin's daughter," and speaks thus of it in his
preface:-"This is a fragment of an apparently ancient ballad, related to
me by a lady of Berw