She shall speak out, have thou nae doubt,
And mair than thou desires.”

Then was he glad of this,

And thought himself weel chevin,*

And hame he cam' with bliss,

Thought lang till it was even.

Till she was fallen on sleep
Ay warily watched he,
And then he took gude keep,

And laid in leaves three;
Thinking his cure, to work maist sure,

He lay waking till day,

When she awoke, gude tent he took
To hear what she should say.

His heart was hie on height.

Then forth she shew, all that she knew,
When that she could not speak;
Frae she began, she spared nought then,
'Twas marvel for a sick!

[Several stanzas seem here to be wanting.]

*

* On the point of success-a modification of the word achieve.

VOL. II.

N

"And when I did her pray

66

In license for to sit, That is the nearest way

To put her by her wit. God knows the drearie life

I've led sin' she was dumb; Of ane gude quiet wife,

Is now ane fiend become!

Her speech but cession, but rhyme or reason,

Now deafens a' the house,

Allace, this day! that may I say,

That ever she spak' sae crouse.

'Nay, blame thyself," quoth he, "That gave her superflue,

Thou laid in leaves three,

Where ane had been enow.

Hadst thou done as I bade,

Or now thou shouldst have seen,

The twa chafts of her head

A tempered tongue between.

But wha may let her? a wife will clatter,
Nae man can controvert her;
The mimest* wife, that ever took life,
Wares words, if that ye start her."

Quoth he, "Tak' what I have,

And leave her as ye fand her." "Allace!" quoth he, "Ye rave;

I daur not come near hand her! I am the devil, nae doubt,

That language learn'd her till,+

* Most staid.

+ Who taught her language.

I daur not be sae stout,

As bid her hold her still,

Frae* she delight to fecht and flyte,+
I daur not wi' her mell;

She will speak out, have ye nae doubt,
For all the devils in hell.

"The least devil in hell

Can give a wife her tongue;

The greatest, I you tell,

Can never mak' her dumb.

Frae she begin to clatter

She will claver where she please;

We devils can noways let her,

Sae tak' you the waneis.‡

Tho' neibours about, wish her tongue out,

I

It does them nought avail;

say for me, she will chide till she die,

She is best with little daill.Ӥ

Quoth he, "Then tell me plain,
What counsel best you call?"
Quoth he, "Gang hame again,
For it is ill over all.

Let thy wife speak her fill,

For she thereto was born; For wives will have their will,

Though you and I had sworn.

Whatever her happen, her tongue is her wapin, To speak them wha may let her?

* From the time that. Uneasiness; vexation.

|| Weapon.

+ Scold.

§ Interference.

Wha may gainstand, or countermand A crabbed wife to clatter?"

Thus they departed plain;
The fiend flew owre ane hill,
The gudeman hame again,

And with his wife baid still,
Quoth he, "Now I perceive
There is nae leid* in land,
That has, as I wad have,

His wife at his command."

Frae then furth, ay, he let her say,

And never was offended,

But at her words made quiet bourds, t Till death their dayis ended.

ROBIN REDBREAST.

FROM Herd's collection.

This is a nursery ballad, of which

there are several versions. A very good one, under the title of "Robin's Tesment," has been printed by Mr Buchan.

GUDE

How lang have you been here?"

"O I've been bird about this bush
This mair than twenty year!

66 But now I am the sickliest bird
That ever sate on brier;
And I wad make my testament,
Gudeman, if ye wad hear.

"Gar tak' this bonny neb o' mine,
That picks upon the corn,
And gie it to Duke Hamilton,
To be a hunting-horn.

"Gar tak' these bonny feathers mine,

The feathers o' my neb,

Gie them to Lady Hamilton,

To fill a feather-bed.

"Gar tak' this gude right leg o' mine

And mend the brig o' Tay ;