“Meantime, little as this matter seems to have been worthy of a dispute, it afterwards became a party question between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. ‘Robin Gray’ was either a very very ancient ballad, composed perhaps by David Rizzio, and a great curiosity, or a very very modern matter, and no curiosity at all. I was persecuted to avow whether I had written it or not,--where I had got it. Old Sophy kept my counsel, and I kept my own, in spite of the gratification of seeing a reward of twenty guineas offered in the newspapers to the person who should ascertain the point past a doubt, and the still more flattering circumstance of a visit from Mr. Jerningham, secretary to the Antiquarian Society, who endeavoured to entrap the truth from me in a manner I took amiss. Had he asked me the question obligingly, I should have told him the fact distinctly and confidentially. The annoyance, however, of this important ambassador from the Antiquaries, was amply repaid to me by the noble exhibition of the ‘Ballat of Auld Robin Gray’s Courtship,’ as performed by dancing-cogs under my window. It proved its popularity from the highest to the lowest, and gave me pleasure while I hugged myself in obscurity.” The two versions of the second part were written many years after the first; in them, Auld Robin Gray falls sick,--confesses that he himself stole the cow, in order to force Jenny to marry him,--leaves to Jamie all his possessions,--dies,--and the young couple, of course, are united. Neither of the Continuations is given here, because, though both are beautiful, they are very inferior to the original tale, and greatly injure its effect. _Auld Robin Gray_.[47] When the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame, When a’ the weary world to quiet rest are gane, The woes of my heart fa’ in showers frae my ee, Unken’d by my gudeman, who soundly sleeps by me. Young Jamie loo’d me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving ae crown-piece, he’d naething else beside. To make the crown a pound,[48] my Jamie gaed to sea; And the crown and the pound, O they were baith for me! Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day. My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away; My mother she fell sick--my Jamie was at sea-- And auld Robin Gray, oh! he came a-courting me, My father cou’dna work--my mother cou’dna spin; I toil’d day and night, but their bread I cou’dna win; Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi’ tears in his ee, Said, “Jenny, oh! for their sakes, will you marry me?” My heart it said na, and I look’d for Jamie back; But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack: His ship it was a wrack! Why didna Jamie dee? Or, wherefore am I spar’d to cry out, Woe is me!