to have retreated, during the execution of her husband; and a place, called the Lady’s Seat, is still shewn, where she is said to have striven to drown, amid the roar of a foaming cataract, the tumultuous noise, which announced the close of his existence.  In a deserted burial-place, which once surrounded the chapel of the castle, the monument of Cokburne and his lady is still shewn.  It is a large stone, broken into three parts; but some armorial bearings may be yet traced, and the following inscription is still legible, though defaced: 

HERE LYES PERYS OF COKBURNE AND HIS WYFE MARJORY.

Tradition says, that Cokburne was surprised by the king, while sitting at dinner.  After the execution, James marched rapidly forward, to surprise Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the King of the Border, and sometimes the King of Thieves.  A path through the mountains, which separate the vale of Ettrick from the head of Yarrow, is still called the King’s Road, and seems to have been the rout which he followed.  The remains of the tower of Tushielaw are yet visible, overhanging the wild banks of the Ettrick; and are an object of terror to the benighted peasant, from an idea of their being haunted by spectres.  From these heights, and through the adjacent county of Peebles, passes a wild path, called still the Thief’s Road, from having been used chiefly by the marauders of the border.

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW.

  My love he built me a bonny bower,
  And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flour;
  A brawer bower ye ne’er did see,
  Than my true love he built for me.

  There came a man, by middle day,
  He spied his sport, and went away;
  And brought the king that very night,
  Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

  He slew my knight, to me sae dear;
  He slew my knight, and poin’d[A] his gear;
  My servants all for life did flee,
  And left me in extremitie.

  I sew’d his sheet, making my mane;
  I watched the corpse, myself alane;
  I watched his body, night and day;
  No living creature came that way.

  I took his body on my back,
  And whiles I gaed, and whiles I satte;
  I digg’d a grave, and laid him in,
  And happ’d him with the sod sae green.

  But think na ye my heart was sair,
  When I laid the moul on his yellow hair? 
  O think na ye my heart was wae,
  When I turn’d about, away to gae?

  Nae living man I’ll love again,
  Since that my lovely knight is slain;
  Wi’ ae lock of his yellow hair
  I’ll chain my heart for evermair.

[Footnote A:  Poin’d—­Poinded, attached by legal distress.]

FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL.