"But an she was ador'd for as much gold, As Peggy's for beautie, O, 70 She micht walk to the yetts o' Drum, Amang gueed companie, O." There war four and twenty gentlemen Stood at the yetts o' Drum, O; There was na ane amang them a' 75 That welcom'd his lady in, O. He has tane her by the milk-white hand, And led her in himsel, O, And in thro' ha's, and in thro' bouers,-- "And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O." 80 Thrice he kissed her cherry cheek, And thrice her cherry chin, O; And twenty times her comely mou',-- "And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O. "Ye sall be cook in my kitchen, 85 Butler in my ha', O; Ye sall be lady in my command, Whan I ride far awa, O."-- "But I told ye afore we war wed, I was owre low for thee, O; 90 But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid, And ye maun be content wi' me, O. "For an I war dead, and ye war dead, And baith in ae grave laid, O, And ye and I war tane up again, 95 Wha could distan your mouls frae mine, O?" LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT. The unhappy lady into whose mouth some unknown poet has put this lament, is now ascertained to have been Anne, daughter to Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. Her faithless lover was her cousin, Alexander Erskine, son to the Earl of Mar. Lady Anne is said to have possessed great beauty, and Sir Alexander was reputed the handsomest man of his age. He was first a colonel in the French army, but afterwards engaged in the service of the Covenanters, and came to his death by being blown up, with many other persons of rank, in Douglass Castle, on the 30th of August, 1640. The events which occasioned the ballad seem to have taken place early in the seventeenth century. Of the fate of the lady subsequent to this period nothing is known. See Chambers, _Scottish Ballads_, p. 150, and _The Scots Musical Museum_, (1853,) iv. 203*. In Brome's comedy of _The Northern Lass, or the Nest of Fools_, acted in 1632, occur the two following stanzas. They are, perhaps, a part of the original Lament, which certainly has undergone great alterations in its progress down to our times. "Peace, wayward barne! Oh cease thy moan! Thy farre more wayward daddy's gone, And never will recalled be, By cryes of either thee or me: For should wee cry Until we dye, Wee could not scant his cruelty. _Ballow, ballow, &c._ "He needs might in himselfe foresee What thou successively might'st be; And could hee then (though me foregoe) His infant leave, ere hee did know How like the dad Would be the lad, In time to make fond maydens glad? _Ballow, ballow, &c._"