The book of British ballads . east, O Helen chaste !Gin I were with thee, I were blest,Where thou liest laigh, and art at rest, In fair Kirconnell Lee !But rest or joy for me is nane,While far awa I sich and mane,Till laid by thy dear side again, In fair Kirconnell Lee. Some passages from a still inferior composition are given by Ritson, as written by one Thomas Poynton, a pauper: — O Fleming! how wretched thy doom,Thy love to see wounded to death;No wonder that, stretchd on her tomb,In grief thou surrendrest thy breath. Allan Cunningham prints the genuine old ballad, and adds to it some judic

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The book of British ballads . east, O Helen chaste !Gin I were with thee, I were blest,Where thou liest laigh, and art at rest, In fair Kirconnell Lee !But rest or joy for me is nane,While far awa I sich and mane,Till laid by thy dear side again, In fair Kirconnell Lee. Some passages from a still inferior composition are given by Ritson, as written by one Thomas Poynton, a pauper: — O Fleming! how wretched thy doom,Thy love to see wounded to death;No wonder that, stretchd on her tomb,In grief thou surrendrest thy breath. Allan Cunningham prints the genuine old ballad, and adds to it some judiciousremarks. So various, he says, are the copies of this pathetic song, and of so littlemerit are many of the verses, that it is difficult to make a judicious selection, lest thelines that are natural and touching should suffer by the separation. He adds, that Burns retouched one copy, but seemed little satisfied with his success. Perhapsthere was never so much written on any subject so pathetic with less honour to

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow