7. And slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly, slowly left him, And sighing, said, she coud not stay, Since death of life had reft him. 8. She had not gane a mile but twa, When she heard the dead-bell ringing, And every jow that the dead-bell geid, It cry’d, ‘Woe to Barbara Allan!’ 9. ‘O mother, mother, make my bed, O make it saft and narrow! Since my love died for me to-day, I’ll die for him to-morrow.’ THE GAY GOSHAWK +The Text+ is from the Jamieson-Brown MS., on which version Scott drew partly for his ballad in the _Minstrelsy_. Mrs. Brown recited the ballad again to William Tytler in 1783, but the result is now lost, with most of the other Tytler-Brown versions. +The Story.+--One point, the maid’s feint of death to escape from her father to her lover, is the subject of a ballad very popular in France; a version entitled _Belle Isambourg_ is printed in a collection called _Airs de Cour_, 1607. Feigning death to escape various threats is a common feature in many European ballads. It is perhaps needless to remark that no goshawk sings sweetly, much less talks. In Buchan’s version (of forty-nine stanzas) the goshawk is exchanged for a parrot. THE GAY GOSHAWK 1. ‘O well’s me o’ my gay goss-hawk, That he can speak and flee; He’ll carry a letter to my love, Bring back another to me.’ 2. ‘O how can I your true-love ken, Or how can I her know? When frae her mouth I never heard couth, Nor wi’ my eyes her saw.’ 3. ‘O well sal ye my true-love ken, As soon as you her see; For, of a’ the flow’rs in fair Englan’, The fairest flow’r is she. 4. ‘At even at my love’s bow’r-door There grows a bowing birk, An’ sit ye down and sing thereon As she gangs to the kirk. 5. ‘An’ four-and-twenty ladies fair Will wash and go to kirk, But well shall ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her skirt. 6. ‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair, But well sal ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her hair.’ 7. O even at that lady’s bow’r-door There grows a bowin’ birk, An’ she sat down and sang thereon, As she ged to the kirk. 8. ‘O eet and drink, my marys a’, The wine flows you among, Till I gang to my shot-window, An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song. 9. ‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang the streen, For I ken by your sweet singin’, You ’re frae my true-love sen’.’ 10. O first he sang a merry song, An’ then he sang a grave, An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray, To her the letter gave. 11. ‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love, He says he sent you three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he’ll die. 12. ‘He bids you write a letter to him; He says he’s sent you five; He canno wait your love langer, Tho’ you’re the fairest woman alive.’