"I commenced sometime ago with an intention of making a collection of Old Ballads, but when I had sought after them in places where I expected to find them, namely, the hayfield and the shepherd's hut on the pasture, I found that nearly all those old and beautiful recollections had vanished as so many old fashions, and those who knew fragments seemed ashamed to acknowledge it, as old people who sung old songs only sung to be laughed at; and those who were proud of their knowledge in such things knew nothing but the senseless balderdash that is bawled over and sung at country feasts, statutes and fairs, where the most senseless jargon passes for the greatest excellence, and rudest indecency for the finest wit. So the matter was thrown by, and forgotten, until last winter, when I used to spend the long evenings with my father and mother, and heard them by accident hum over scraps of the following old melodies, which I have collected and put into their present form." Two of the collection are omitted from this volume: the well-known ballad of "Lord Randall," and a second the subject of which appeared to render its inclusion inexpedient. ADIEU TO MY FALSE LOVE FOREVER The week before Easter, the days long and clear, So bright shone the sun and so cool blew the air, I went in the meadow some flowers to find there, But the meadow would yield me no posies. The weather, like love, did deceitful appear, And I wandered alone when my sorrow was near, For the thorn that wounds deeply doth bide the whole year, When the bush it is naked of roses. I courted a girl that was handsome and gay, I thought her as constant and true as the day, Till she married for riches and said my love "Nay," And so my poor heart got requited. I was bid to the bridal; I could not say "No:" The bridemen and maidens they made a fine show; I smiled like the rest but my heart it was low, To think how its hopes they were blighted. The bride started gaily, the weather was fine, Her parents looked after, and thought her divine; She smiled in their faces, but looked not in mine, Indeed I'd no heart to regard her. Though love like the poplar doth lift its head high, The top it may fade and the root it may die, And they may have heart-aches that now live in joy, But Heaven I'll leave to reward her. When I saw my false love in the merry church stand, With her ring on her finger and her love in her hand, Smiling out in the joy of her houses and land, My sighs I strove vainly to smother. When my false love for dinner did dainties partake, I sat me down also, but nothing could eat; I thought her sweet company better than meat, Although she was tied to another. When my false love had gone to her bride bed at night, My eyes filled with water which made double my sight; I thought she was there when she'd bade us "Good night" And her chair was put by till the morrow.