This version is made up from various copies of this old ballad collated, and is of very unequal merit. The stanzas, from the 17th to the 22d inclusive, compose a dirge of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity. The circumstances are happily chosen and combined; and the language, to those who understand it, is so picturesquely expressive, that while we read the words, the scene is felt penciled on our imagination. And it is impossible to peruse it without feeling a high degree of that pleasing sombre tenderness, which it is the object of this sort of poetry to produce. From Spey to the border, Was peace and good order; The sway of our monarch was mild as the May; Peace he adored, Whilk Soudrons abhorred, Our marches they plunder, our wardens they slay. ’Gainst LOUIS, our ally, Their HENRY did sally, Tho’ JAMES, but in vain, did his herauld advance, Renouncing alliance, Denouncing defiance, To Soudrons, if langer abiding in France. Many were the omens, Our ruin was coming, E’er the flower of our nation was call’d to array: Our king at devotion, St Andrew did caution, And sigh’d as with sorrow he to him did say,-- Sir, in this expedition, You must have ambition; From the company of women you shou’d keep away. When the spectre this declar’d, It quickly disappear’d; But where it retired no man could espy. The flowers of the nation Were call’d to their station, With valiant inclination their banners to display; To Burrow-Muir resorting; Their right for supporting, And there rendevouzing, encamped did lay. But another bad omen, That vengeance was coming; At midnight, in Edinburgh, a voice loud did cry, As heraulds, in their station, With loud proclamation, Did name all our barons in England to die. These words the demon spoke, At the throne of Plotcock, It charg’d their appearing, appointing the day: The provost, in its hearing, The summons greatly fearing, Appeal’d to his Maker, the same did deny. At this were many griev’d, As many misbeliev’d; But forward they march’d to their destiny: From thence to the border, They march’d in good order, The Merse-men and Forrest they join’d the array. England’s invasion, It was their persuasion, To make restitution for their cruelty; But O fatal Flodoun! There came the wo down; And our royal nation was brought to decay. After spoiling and burning, Many hameward returning, With our king still the nobles and vassals abide: To SURREY’S proud vaunting, He answers but daunting; The king would await him whatever betide.