I send my love letters By larks on the wing; My love sends me letters When nightingales sing. Without reading or writing, Their burden we know: They only say, “Love me, Who love you so.” III. And if they ask for me, brother, Say I come never home, For I have taken a strange wife Beyond the salt sea foam. The green grass is my bridal bed, The black tomb my good mother, The stones and dust within the grave Are my sister and my brother. BALLADS _The Young Ruthven_. THE King has gi’en the Queen a gift, For her May-day’s propine, He’s gi’en her a band o’ the diamond-stane, Set in the siller fine. The Queen she walked in _Falkland_ yaird, Beside the Hollans green, And there she saw the bonniest man That ever her eyes had seen. His coat was the Ruthven white and red, Sae sound asleep was he The Queen she cried on May Beatrix, That seely lad to see. “Oh! wha sleeps here, May Beatrix, Without the leave o’ me?” “Oh! wha suld it be but my young brother Frae _Padua_ ower the sea! “My father was the Earl Gowrie, An Earl o’ high degree, But they hae slain him by fause treason, And gar’d my brothers flee. “At _Padua_ hae they learned their leir In the fields o’ _Italie_; And they hae crossed the saut sea-faem, And a’ for love o’ me!” * * * * The Queen has cuist her siller band About his craig o’ snaw; But still he slept and naething kenned, Aneth the Hollans shaw. The King he daundered thro’ the yaird, He saw the siller shine; “And wha,” quoth he, “is this galliard That wears yon gift o’ mine?” The King has gane till the Queen’s ain bower, An angry man that day; But bye there cam’ May Beatrix And stole the band away. And she’s run in by the dern black yett, Straight till the Queen ran she: “Oh! tak ye back your siller band, Or it gar my brother dee!” The Queen has linked her siller band About her middle sma’; And then she heard her ain gudeman Come rowting through the ha’. “Oh! whare,” he cried, “is the siller band I gied ye late yestreen? The knops was a’ o’ the diamond stane, Set in the siller sheen.” “Ye hae camped birling at the wine, A’ nicht till the day did daw; Or ye wad ken your siller band About my middle sma’!” The King he stude, the King he glowered, Sae hard as a man micht stare. “Deil hae me! Like is a richt ill mark,— Or I saw it itherwhere! “I saw it round young Ruthven’s neck As he lay sleeping still; And, faith, but the wine was wondrous guid, Or my wife is wondrous ill!” * * * *