[Footnote A:  This practice has only very lately become obsolete in Scotland.  The editor remembers, that, a few years ago, a cairn was pointed out to him in the King’s Park of Edinburgh, which had been raised in detestation of a cruel murder, perpetrated by one Nicol Muschet, on the body of his wife, in that place, in the year 1720.]

FAIR HELEN.

PART FIRST.

  O! sweetest sweet, and fairest fair,
  Of birth and worth beyond compare,
  Thou art the causer of my care,
  Since first I loved thee.

  Yet God hath given to me a mind,
  The which to thee shall prove as kind
  As any one that thou shalt find,
  Of high or low degree.

  The shallowest water makes maist din,
  The deadest pool the deepest linn. 
  The richest man least truth within,
  Though he preferred be.

  Yet, nevertheless, I am content,
  And never a whit my love repent,
  But think the time was a’ weel spent,
   Though I disdained be.

  O!  Helen sweet, and maist complete,
  My captive spirit’s at thy feet! 
  Thinks thou still fit thus for to treat
   Thy captive cruelly?

  O!  Helen brave! but this I crave,
  Of thy poor slave some pity have,
  And do him save that’s near his grave,
   And dies for love of thee.

FAIR HELEN.

PART SECOND.

  I wish I were where Helen lies! 
  Night and day on me she cries;
  O that I were where Helen lies,
   On fair Kirconnell Lee!

  Curst be the heart, that thought the thought,
  And curst the hand, that fired the shot,
  When in my arms burd[A] Helen dropt,
   And died to succour me!

  O think na ye my heart was sair,
  When my love dropt down and spak nae mair! 
  There did she swoon wi’ meikle care,
   On fair Kirconnell Lee.

  As I went down the water side,
  None but my foe to be my guide. 
  None but my foe to be my guide,
   On fair Kirconnell Lee.

  I lighted down, my sword did draw,
  I hacked him in pieces sma,
  I hacked him in pieces sma,
   For her sake that died for me.

  O Helen fair, beyond compare! 
  I’ll make a garland of thy hair,
  Shall bind my heart for evermair,
   Untill the day I die.

  O that I were where Helen lies! 
  Night and day on me she cries;
  Out of my bed she bids me rise,
   Says, “haste, and come to me!”

  O Helen fair!  O Helen chaste! 
  If I were with thee I were blest,
  Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
   On fair Kirconnell Lee.

  I wish my grave were growing green,
  A winding sheet drawn ower my een,
  And I in Helen’s arms lying,
   On fair Kirconnell Lee.