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of a kind of Cento, from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer; and a Third Part, entirely modern, founded upon the tradition of his having returned with the hart and hind to the Land of Faërie. To make his peace with the more severe antiquaries, the author has prefixed to the Second Part some remarks on Learmont's prophecies.

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True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;

A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e; And there he saw a ladye bright,

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk,

Her mantle o' the velvet fyne ; At ilka tett of her horse's mane,

Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pull’d aff his cap,

And louted low down to his knee, All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven !

For thy peer on earth I never did see.”.

“O no, O no, Thomas,” she said ;

“ That name does not belang to me; I am but the Queen of fair Elfland,

That am hither come to visit thee.

“Harp and carp, Thomas,” she said ;

Harp and carp along with me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips,

Sure of your body I will be."

“ Betide me weal, betide me woe,

That weird * shall never danton me.”Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips,

All underneath the Eildon Tree.

* That weird, &c. That destiny shall never frighten me.

“Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said ;

“ True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; And

ye maun serve me seven years, Through weal or woe as may chance to be.”

She mounted on her milk-white steed;
She's ta'en true Thomas



whene'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on;

The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reach'd a desart wide,

And living land was left behind.

Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,
And lean

upon my

knee :
Abide, and rest a little space,
And I will shew thee ferlies three.

“ O see ye not yon narrow road,

So thick beset with thorns and briers ? That is the path of righteousness,

Though after it but few inquires.

And see not ye that braid, braid road,

That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness,

Though some call it the road to heaven.

And see not ye that bonny road,

That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where


and I this night maun gae.

But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,

Whatever ye may

hear or see ;

For, if you speak word in Elfyn land,

Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."

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