She was the first that did invent

In coaches brave to ride;

She was the first that brought this land
The deadly sinne of pride:

No English taylor here could serve
To make her rich attyre,

But sent for taylors into Spaine,

To feed her vaine desire."

Having thus quitted the region of historic truth, and entered that of man's invention, we cannot do better than close our specimens of this first class by "a pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the false steward." Who this Lord of Lorn was, we have not been able to ascertain, notwithstanding all our endeavours thereuntobut we venture to hope that, in this age of historic as well as scientific discovery, some ingenious reader of the North British Review may succeed in finding out which Lord it was that married "the Duke's daughter."

"It was a worthy Lord of Lorn,

He was a Lord of high degree;
He sent his son unto the school,

To learn some civility :

He learned more in one day

Than other children did in three."

The child, as our readers will perceive, was decidedly clever, and his father determined to send him to France" to learn the speeches of each land.”

"Who shall go with him? said the lady,

Husband, we have none but he;

Madam, he said, my head steward,

He hath been true to me.

She called the steward to an account,

A thousand pound she gave him annon;
Says, good sir steward, be good to my child,
While he is far from home."

When they had been about three weeks in France, the false steward determined to destroy the child, and keep the thousand pounds for himself. The child, however, objected to this arrangement, and the steward ultimately consented to spare his life, but

"He put him on an old kelter coat,

And hose of the same above the knee
He bid him go to the shepherd's house,
And keep sheep on a love lovely [sic].
The child said, what shall be my name?
Good steward tell to me:

Thy name shall be poor dost thou wear [sic]
That thy name shall be."

The child did as he was ordered.

"But when the shepherd saw the child,
He was so pleasant in the eye:

I have no child, I'll make thee my heir,
Thou shalt have my goods perdye."

In the meantime, the steward purchased three suits of apparel, and went a wooing to the Duke's daughter, calling himself the Lord of Lorn. His courtship prospered until the young lady would see the red buck run, when she meets with the young shepherd boy, whom she takes with her to be her chamberlain.

"When the Duke lookt upon the child,

He seemed so pleasant in the eye:
Child, because thou lovest horses so well,
My groom of stable thou shalt be.
The child ply'd the horses well,
A twelvemonth to an end;
He was so courteous and so true,
Every man became his friend.
He led a fair gelding to the water,
Where he might drink verily;
The gelding up with his heel,

And hit the child above the eye.

Wo worth thee, horse, then said the child,

That ever mare foled thee;

Thou little knowest what thou hast done,

Thou hast stricken a lord of high degree."

The Duke's daughter overhears these words, and urges the youth to explain them, but he excuses himself.

"I have made an oath, lady, he said,

I dare not tell my tale again :

Tell the horse thy tale, thou bonny child,
And so thy oath shall saved be:

But when he told the horse his tale,

The lady wept most tenderly."

The lady wrote forthwith to the Lord of Lorn.

"The old Lord called up his merry men,

And all that he gave cloth and fee,

With seven lords by his side,

And into France rides he.

Thou art a false thief, quoth the Lord of Lorn,
No longer will I bear with thee.

By the law of France thou shalt be judg'd,
Whether it be to live or dye;

A quest of Lords there chosen was,
To bench they came hastily.
But when the quest was ended,

The false steward must die :
First they did him half hang,

And then they took him down anon,
And then put him in boyling lead,

And then was sodden breast and bone."

After the execution of the steward, the young Lord, as a very natural and pleasant conclusion of all his troubles, received the hand of the Duke's daughter.

"The King of France brought with him then

A hundred tun of good red wine,

Five set of musitians were to be seen,

That never rested night nor day;
Also Italians there did sing,

Full pleasantly, with great joy."

The copy of this ballad in the Roxburghe collection was printed about the year 1670, and bears evident marks of the corruption resulting from frequent transcription and repetition. Mr. Collier (Catalogue of the books in Bridgewater House, p. 287) supposes it to have been written in the reign of Henry VIII., and quotes, as his authority, four lines from a satire entitled "Skialetheia."

"Yet like th' olde ballad of the Lord of Lorne,

Whose last line in king Harrie's dayes was borne,
It still retains the title of, as new

And proper fashion, as you ever knew."

We would fain continue our historical inquiries, but politics, love, murder, and moralities, cum multis aliis, are waiting to be taken notice of. Therefore, "Bloody news from Germany,""A lanthorne for landlords," "The rarest ballad that ever was seen, of the blind beggar's daughter of Bednal Green,"-" The constancy of Susanna,"-"Lord Willoughby," "Lord Willoughby,”—“ King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth," "The King and Northern Man,"-" James Fitzroy, Duke of Monmouth, England's darling, or Great Britain's joy,"-" The Norfolk gentleman his last will and testament," better known as the Children in the Wood—and all the rest of the 160 historical and pseudohistorical ballads, must rest contented with the notice that has been bestowed upon them by Percy, Ritson, Scott, Evans, Dalzell, &c. &c.

2. The press of Lekpruik of Edinburgh furnished the collection with its earliest specimens of the historical ballad. From the same officina we head the second class (or political, national and Protestant ballads) with "The cruikit leidis the blinde." This is a violent invective against some person of great influence in the party of Mary of Scotland, and its date (1570) refers it to the troubled period of Scottish history mentioned above. The Duke of Chastelherault, the head of the family of Hamilton, appears to be the person aimed at. By the Regent Murray he had been sent a prisoner to Edinburgh, on the 11th of April 1569, for refusing to acknowledge the authority of the young king James, and had been kept in close confinement until the murder of the Regent in the January following. The death of Murray revived the hopes and influence of the queen's party, which had been much depressed by his vigorous measures, and the Hamiltons resolved immediately to liberate the Duke and follow up the advantage they had won. We regret that our extracts from this vigorous old composition must be short.

"This warld it waggis I wat not how,

And na man may ane uther trow :
And everie man dois pluke and pow,
And that the pure may finde,

Our Court it is decayit now,

The cruikit leidis the blinde.

*

Albeit he haif the fever quartane,

He suld be made knycht of the Gartane:
He rewlis Edinburgh and Dunbartane,
As Maddie dois me tell:

Gif he war Pape, I am richt certane,
He wald reule hevin and hell.

Gif he gar Atholl do sic schame,
As to consent to bring hir hame;
And gif the gyding to Madame :

They will put downe the King,
The Crowne will alter fra that name,
Than Murderars may sing."

The period from 1640 to the restoration was prolific in satirical productions of every description, among which the ballad occupied a prominent place and naturally so for the people formed an important feature in the doings of the time. But there is this remarkable distinction between the Scottish and the English ballads written for the purposes of party, that the former, (we speak of those written in the time of Mary,) appear to be all in support of the new order of things, while the latter are, for the

most part, in favour of the exiled royal family. We take a few examples at random :

"A merry new song, wherein you may view
The drinking healths of a jovial crew,

To thappie return of the figure of two.

I've been a traveller long,

And seen the conditions of all,
I see how each other they wrong,
And the weakest still goes to the wall.
And here I'll begin to relate

The crosse condition of those
That hinder our happy state,

And now are turned our foes.

Here's a health to the figure of two,

To the rest of the issue renown'd:

Wee'l bid all our sorrows adiew

When the figure of two shall be crown'd."

Again: "The courtier's health, or the merry boys of the times."

"We boys are true loyal,

For Charles we'l venture all.
We know his blood is royall,
His name shall never fall,
But those that seek his ruine

May chance to die before him;
While we that sack are woeing,
For ever will adore him.
Fill the pottles and gallons,

And bring the hogshead in,

We'l begin with a tallen,

A brimmer to the king."

The "Turncoat of the times," contains a most excellent description of this species of vermin, adapted to all times, although referring in this instance to the period of Charles II.