Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale,
Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale!

Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight,

Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright;
Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord,

Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word;

And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail,

Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale.

Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come;

The mother, she asked of his household and home:
"Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill,
My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still;
'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale,
And with all its bright spangles!" said Allen-a-Dale.

The father was steel, and the mother was stone;
They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone;
But loud, on the morrow,
their wail and their cry:

He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye,

And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale,

And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale!

O, BRIGNALL BANKS ARE WILD AND FAIR.

From ROKEBY.

Sir Walter Scott.

O, BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there.

Would grace a summer queen.

And as I rode by Dalton-hall

Beneath the turrets high,

A Maiden on the castle wall
Was singing merrily,-

"O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen." -

"If, Maiden, thou would'st wend with me, To leave both tower and town,

Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down?
And if thou can'st that riddle read,

As read full well you may,

Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, As blithe as Queen of May."

Yet sung she: "Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green;

I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen.

"I read you, by your bugle-horn,
And by your palfrey good,

I read you for a Ranger sworn,

To keep the king's greenwood.""A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, And 'tis at peep of light;

His blast is heard at merry morn,

And mine at dead of night."

Yet sung she: "Brignall banks are fair,

And Greta woods are gay;

I would I were with Edmund there,

To reign his Queen of May!

"With burnish'd brand and musketoon, So gallantly you come,

I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.".
"I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;

But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear."

"And, O! though Brignall banks be fair, And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare,

Would reign my Queen of May!

"Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I'll die;

The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead, Were better mate than I!

And when I'm with my comrades met,

Beneath the greenwood bough,

What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now."

"Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green,

And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen."

BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.

IN Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Made every youth crye, Wel-awaye!
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merrye month of May,

When green buds they were swellin, Young Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man unto her then,

To the town where she was dwellin; "You must come to my master deare, Giff your name be Barbara Allen.

"For death is printed on his face,
And ore his hart is stealin:
Then haste away to comfort him,
O lovely Barbara Allen.”

"Though death be printed on his face,
And ore his harte is stealin,

Yet little better shall he be
For bonny Barbara Allen."

So slowly, slowly, she came up,
And slowly she came nye him;
And all she sayd, when there she came,
"Yong man, I think y'are dying."

He turned his face unto her strait,
With deadlye sorrow sighing;
"O lovely maid, come pity mee,
I'me on my death-bed lying."

"If on your death-bed you doe lye,
What needs the tale you are tellin?
I cannot keep you from your death;
Farewell," sayd Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall,
As deadlye pangs he fell in:
"Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all,
Adieu to Barbara Allen."

As she was walking ore the fields,
She heard the bell a knellin;
And every stroke did seem to saye,
"Unworthy Barbara Allen!"

She turned her body round about, And spied the corps a coming: "Laye down, laye down the corps," she sayd, "That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye she looked downe,
Her cheeks with laughter swellin;
Whilst all her friends cryd out amain,
"Unworthy Barbara Allen!"

When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Her harte was struck with sorrowe;
"O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall dye to-morrowe.

"Hard-harted creature him to slight,
Who loved me so dearlye:

O that I had beene more kind to him,
When he was alive and neare me!"

She, on her death-bed as she laye,`
Beg'd to be buried by him;
And sore repented of the daye,

That she did ere denye him.