She's ta'en her by the lily hand, And led her down to the river strand. And as they walk-ed by the linn, The eldest dang the youngest in. "O, sister, sister, reach your hand, And ye'll be heir to a' my land!"-- "Foul fa' the hand that I wad take To twin me o' my warld's make!"-- "O, sister, reach me but your glove, And sweet William shall be your love!"-- "Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove, And sweet William shall be my love: "Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair Garr'd me gang maiden evermair." She clasped her hands about a broom root, But her cruel sister she loosed them out. Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, Until she came to the miller's dam. The miller's daughter was baking bread, She went for water as she had need. "O father, father, draw your dam! There's either a maid or a milk-white swan!" The miller hasted and drew his dam, And there he found a drowned wom-an. You couldna see her yellow hair For gowd and pearls that were sae rare; You couldna see her middle sma', Her gowden girdle was sae bra'. A famous harper passing by, The sweet pale face he chanced to spy; And when he looked that ladye on, He sighed and made a heavy moan. He made a harp of her breast-bone, Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; He's ta'en three locks of her yellow hair, And wi' them strung his harp sae fair. He brought it to her father's hall, And there was the court assembled all. He laid this harp upon a stone, And straight it began to play alone: "Oh, yonder sits my father, the king, And yonder sits my mother, the queen, And yonder stands my brother, Hugh, And yonder my William, sweet and true." But the last tune that the harp played then Binnorie! O Binnorie! Was, "Wae to my sister, false Ellen, By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie!" KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID. I read that once in Africa A princely wight did reign, Who had to name Cophetua, As poets they did feign: From nature's laws he did decline, For sure he was not of my mind, He car-ed not for women-kind, But did them all disdain. But mark what happened on a day: As he out of his window lay, He saw a beggar all in gray, The which did cause his pain. The blinded boy, that shoots so trim, From heaven down did hie; He drew a dart and shot at him, In place where he did lie: Which soon did pierce him to the quick, And when he felt the arrow prick, Which in his tender heart did stick, He looked as he would die. "What sudden chance is this," quoth he, "That I to love must subject be, Which never thereto would agree, But still did it defy?"