"And what drink's i' this house, ladye,
That ye're na wellcum tee?"—
"O ye sew up your horse's hide,
And bring in a drink to me."-

O he has sew'd up the bluidy hide,
And put in a pipe of wine;
She drank it a' up at ae draught,
Left na a drap therein.

"A bed, a bed, ye King Henrie !

"And what's the bed i' this house, ladye,

That ye're na wellcum tee ?". "O ye maun pu' the green heather,

And mak a bed to me."

O pu'd has he the heather green,
And made to her a bed;

And up he has ta'en his gay mantle,

And o'er it he has spread.

"Now swear, now swear, ye King Henrie, To take me for your bride!"— "O God forbid," King Henrie said,

"That e'er the like betide!

That e'er the fiend that wons in hell
Should streak down by my side."

When day was come, and night was gane,
And the sun shone through the ha',
The fairest ladye that e'er was seen,
Lay atween him and the wa',

"O weel is me!" King Henrie said,
"How lang will this last wi' me?".
And out and spak that ladye fair,
"E'en till the day ye die.

"For I was witch'd to a ghastly shape,

All by my stepdame's skill,

Till I should meet wi' a courteous knight, Wad gie me a' my will."

ANNAN WATER.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

THE following verses are the original words of the tune of "Allan Water," by which name the song is mentioned in Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany. The ballad is given from tradition; and it is said that a bridge, over the Annan, was built in consequence of the melancholy catastrophe which it narrates. Two verses are added in this edition, from another copy of the ballad, in which the conclusion proves fortunate. By the Gatehope-Slack, is perhaps meant the GateSlack, a pass in Annandale. The Annan, and the Frith of Solway, into which it falls, are the frequent scenes of tragical accidents. The Editor trusts he will be pardoned for inserting the following awfully impressive account of such an event, contained in a letter from Dr Currie, of Liverpool, by whose correspondence, while in the course of preparing these volumes for the press, he has been alike honoured and instructed. After stating that he had some recollection of the ballad which follows, the biographer of Burns proceeds

thus: "I once in my early days heard (for it was night, and I could not see) a traveller drowning; not in the Annan itself, but in the Frith of Solway, close by the mouth of that river. The influx of the tide had unhorsed him, in the night, as he was passing the sands from Cumberland. The west wind blew a tempest, and, according to the common expression, brought in the water three foot a-breast. The traveller got upon a standing net, a little way from the shore. There he lashed himself to the post, shouting for half an hour for assistance till the tide rose over his head! In the darkness of the night, and amid the pauses of the hurricane, his voice, heard at intervals, was exquisitely mournful. No one could go to his assistance-no one knew where he was the sound seemed to proceed from the spirit of the waters. But morning rose-the tide had ebbed-and the poor traveller was found lashed to the pole of the net, and bleaching in the wind."

ANNAN WATER.

"ANNAN water's wading deep,

And

my love Annie's wondrous bonny; And I am laith she suld weet her feet, Because I love her best of ony.

"Gar saddle me the bonny black,

Gar saddle sune, and make him ready; For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, And all to see my bonny ladye."

He has loupen on the bonny black,
He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly;
But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack,

I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny grey,

He rade the right gate and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden o'er field and fell,
Through muir and moss, and

mony a

mire: