She fat her by the nut-browne bride, 85 30 And her een they wer fae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, Whan fair Annet drew near. And reaching by the nut-browne bride, Up than fpak the nut-browne bride, OI did get the rofe-water, Whair ye wull neir get nane, For I did get that very rofe-water Into my mithers wame. The bride fhe drew a long bodkin, Frae out her gay head gear, And ftrake fair Annet unto the heart, That word fpak nevir mair. Lord Thomas he faw fair Annet wex pale, And marvelit what mote bee: But whan he faw her dear hearts blude, A' wood-wroth wexed hee. 2 95 100 He 105 110 He drew his dagger, that was fae sharp, And drave it into the nut-browne bride, Now ftay for me, dear Annet, he sed, Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', Fair Annet within the quiere; And o' the tane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere. And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine be neare; VI. CORYDON's DOLEFUL KNELL. This little fimple elegy is given, with fome corrections, from two copies, one of which is in "The golden garland of frincely delights." The The burthen of the fong, DING DONG, &c. is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may excite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader; but in the time of our boet it ufually accompanied the most folemn and mournful trains. Of this kind is that fine aerial Dirge in Shakespear's Tempest, "But doth fuffer a fea-change "Harke now I heare them, Ding dong bell.” ["Burther, Ding dong."] I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude this air in a manner the most folemn and expreffive of melancholy. M TY Phillida, adieu love! For evermore farewel! Ay me! I've loft my true love, And thus I ring her knell, Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, My Phillida is dead! I'll flick a branch of willow 5 At my fair Phillis' head. For |