Michael Bruce's _Sir James the Rose_ will be found in another part of this collection. In Caw's _Museum_ (p. 290) is a ballad in the worst possible taste, styled _Elfrida and Sir James of Perth_, which seems to be a mere disfiguration of Bruce's. O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose, The young heir o' Buleighan? For he has kill'd a gallant squire, Whase friends are out to tak him. Now he has gane to the house o' Mar, 5 Whar nane might seik to find him; To see his dear he did repair, Weining she wold befreind him. "Whar are ye gaing Sir James," she said, "O whar awa are ye riding?" 10 "I maun be bound to a foreign land, And now I'm under hiding. "Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin, Whar sall I rin to lay me? For I ha kill'd a gallant squire, 15 And his friends seik to slay me." "O gae ye down to yon laigh house, I sall pay there your lawing; And as I am your leman trew, I'll meet ye at the dawing." 20 He turned him richt and round about, And rowd him in his brechan: And laid him doun to tak a sleip, In the lawlands o' Buleighan. He was nae weil gane out o' sicht, 25 Nor was he past Milstrethen, Whan four and twenty belted knichts Cam riding owr the Leathen. "O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose, The young heir o' Buleighan? 30 For he has kill'd a gallant squire, And we are sent to tak him." "Yea, I ha seen Sir James," she said, "He past by here on Monday; Gin the steed be swift that he rides on, 35 He's past the Hichts of Lundie." But as wi speid they rade awa, She leudly cryd behind them; "Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid, I'll tell ye whar to find him." 40 "O tell fair maid, and on our band, Ye'se get his purse and brechan." "He's in the bank aboon the mill, In the lawlands o' Buleighan." Than out and spak Sir John the Graham, 45 Who had the charge a keiping, "It's neer be said, my stalwart feres, We kill'd him whan a sleiping." They seized his braid sword and his targe, And closely him surrounded: 50 "O pardon! mercy! gentlemen," He then fou loudly sounded. "Sic as ye gae, sic ye sall hae, Nae grace we shaw to thee can." "Donald my man, wait till I fa, 55 And ye sall hae my brechan; Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o' gowd To tak me to Loch Lagan." Syne they take out his bleiding heart, And set it on a speir; 60 Then tuke it to the house o' Mar, And shawd it to his deir.