'And what will ye leave to your ain mother dear, Edward, Edward; And what will ye leave to your ain mother dear, My dear son, now tell me, O?' 'The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, Mother, mother; The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, Sic counsels ye gave me, O.' It seems unaccountable how any editor of Percy's discernment could ever have accepted this as old poetry. There is certainly none prior to 1700 which exhibits this kind of diction. Neither did any such poetry at any time proceed from a rustic uneducated mind. When we continue our search beyond the bounds of Percy's _Reliques_, we readily find ballads passing as old, which are not unlike the above, either in regard to their general beauty, or special strains of thought and expression. There are five which seem peculiarly liable to suspicion on both grounds--namely, _Johnie of Bradislee_, _Mary Hamilton_, the _Gay Gos-hawk_, _Fause Foodrage_, and the _Lass o' Lochryan_. In _Johnie o' Bradislee_, the hero is a young unlicensed huntsman, who goes out to the deer-forest against his mother's advice, and has a fatal encounter with seven foresters. Observe the description of the youth: His cheeks were like the roses red, His neck was like the snaw; He was the bonniest gentleman My eyes they ever saw. His coat was o' the scarlet red, His vest was o' the same; His stockings were o' the worset lace, And buckles tied to the same. The shirt that was upon his back Was o' the Holland fine; The doublet that was over that Was o' the Lincoln twine. The buttons that were upon his sleeve Were o' the gowd sae guid, &c. This is mercery of the eighteenth, and no earlier century. Both Gilderoy and Gil Morrice are decked out in a similar fashion; and we may fairly surmise that it was no man's mind which revelled so luxuriously in the description of these three specimens of masculine beauty, or which invested them in such elegant attire. Johnie kills the seven foresters, but receives a deadly hurt. He then speaks in the following strain: 'O is there a bird in a' this bush Would sing as I would say, Go home and tell my auld mother That I hae won the day? 'Is there ever a bird in a' this bush Would sing as I would say, Go home and tell my ain true love To come and fetch Johnie away? 'Is there a bird in this hale forest Would do as mickle for me, As dip its wing in the wan water, And straik it ower my ee-bree?' The starling flew to his mother's bower-stane, It whistled and it sang; And aye the owerword o' its tune Was, 'Johnie tarries lang.' The mother says in conclusion: 'Aft hae I brought to Bradislee The less gear and the mair; But I ne'er brought to Bradislee What grieved my heart sae sair.'