Then he has coft for that lady A fine silk riding gown; Likewise he coft for that lady A steed, and set her on; 100 Wi' menji feathers in her hat, Silk stockings and siller sheen; And they are on to Taperbank, Seeking young Hazelgreen. They nimbly rode along the way, 105 And gently spurr'd their horse, Till they rode on to Hazelgreen, To Hazelgreen's own close. Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen, To welcome his father free; 110 "You're welcome here, my father dear, And a' your companie." But when he look'd o'er his shoulder, A light laugh then gae he; Says, "If I getna this lady, 115 It's for her I must die; I must confess this is the maid I ance saw in a dream, A walking thro' a pleasant shade, As fair's a cypress queen." 120 "Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen, Lat a' your folly be; If ye be wae for that lady, She's thrice as wae for thee. She's thrice as wae for thee, my son; 125 As bitter doth complain; Well is she worthy o' the rigs That lie on Hazelgreen." He's taen her in his arms twa, Led her thro' bower and ha'; 130 "Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear, Ye're flower out o'er them a'. This night shall be our wedding e'en, The morn we'll say, Amen; Ye'se never mair hae cause to mourn,-- 135 Ye're lady o' Hazelgreen." THE FAUSE LOVER. From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 268. The fourth and fifth stanzas are found as a fragment in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, ii. 6, (ed. 1776,) thus: "False luve, and hae ze played me this, In the simmer, mid the flowers? I sall repay ze back again, In the winter mid the showers. "Bot again, dear luve, and again, dear luve, Will ze not turn again? As ze look to ither women Shall I to ither men." Sir Walter Scott, also, as Chambers has pointed out, has, in _Waverley_, put two similar stanzas into the mouth of Davie Gellatley. "False love, and hast thou played me this, In summer, among the flowers? I will repay thee back again, In winter, amid the showers. "Unless again, again, my love, Unless ye turn again, As you with other maidens rove, I'll smile on other men." A fair maid sat in her bower door, Wringing her lily hands; And by it came a sprightly youth, Fast tripping o'er the strands. "Where gang ye, young John," she says, 5 "Sae early in the day? It gars me think, by your fast trip, Your journey's far away."