Then some they rade, and some they ran,

Out o'er the grass and bent;

But ere the foremost could win up,
Both lady and babes were brent.

And after the Gordon he is gane,

Sae fast as he might dri'e;

And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's blood
He's wroken his fair ladye.

Unknown

ARIEL'S SONGS

WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie ;

There I couch when owls do cry:

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!

COME unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have, and kissed,

(The wild waves whist)

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet Sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark!

Bow-wow.

The watchdogs bark: