To lay thee law as borfes bufe,

My word I mean to keip;

Syne with the first strake eir he strake,

He garr'd his body bleid.

XXXI.

Norfe ene lyke gray gofehawks stair'd wyld,
He fight with fhame and spyte;
Difgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm
That left thee power to ftrike:
Then gave his head a blaw fae fell,
It made him doun to ftoup,
As law as he to ladies us'd
In courtly gyfe to lout,

XXXII.

Full foon he rais'd his bent body,

His bow he marvell'd fair,
Sen blaws till then on him but darr'd
As touch of Faiely fair:
Norfe ferliet too as fair as he
To fee his stately look,

Sae foon as eir he strake a fae,
Sae foon his lyfe he took.

XXXIII.

Whair lyke a fyre to heather fet,

Bauld Thomas did advance, A sturdy fae with look enrag'd

Up towards him did

prance;

He fpurr'd his fteid throw thickest rank,
The hardy youth to quell,

Wha ftood unmov'd at his approach

His fury to repell.

XXXIV.

That short brown shaft fae meanly trimm'd
Looks lyke poor Scotland's geir,

But dreidful feims the rufty poynt!
And loud he leugh in jeir.

Aft Britons blude has dimm'd its shyne,
This poynt cut short their vaunt;

Syne

Syne pierc'd the boafter's bairded cheik,..
Nae time he took to taunt.

XXXV.

Short while he in his faddle swang,

His stirrip was nae ftay,

Sae feible hang his unbent knee,
Sure taken he was fey:
Swith on the hardned clay he fell,
Right far was heard the thud,
But Thomas look'd not as he lay
All walt'ring in his blude,

XXXVI.

With cairles gefture, mynd unmov'd,
On raid he north the plain,
His feim in thrang of fiercest ftryfe,
When winner ay the fame :
Nor yet his heart dames dipeik,

Coud meise faft love to bruik,
Till vengeful Ann return'd his fcorn,
Then languid grew his look.

XXXVII.

In thrawis of death, with wailowit cheik,

All panting on the plain,

The fainting corpfe of warriors lay,
Neir to aryfe again;

Neir to return to native land,

Nae mair with blythsome sounds,

To boaft the glories of the day,
And shaw their shyning wounds.

XXXVIII.

On Norway's coaft the widow'd dame
May wash the rocks with teirs,
May lang look owre the shiples feis,
Before hir mate appeirs.

Ceife, Emma, ceife to hope in vain,
Thy lord lyis in the clay,

The valiant Scots nae revers thole

To carry

life away.

T 2

There

XXXIX.

There on a lie whair ftands a cross,

Set up for monument,

Thoufands full fierce that fummer's day
'Fill'd keen waris black intent.
Let Scots, while Scots, praife Hardyknute;
Let Norse the name ay dreid;

Ay how he faught, aft how he fpaird,
ages reid.

Sal latest

XL.

Loud and chill blew weftlin wind,
Sair beat the heavy showir,
Mirk grew the night eir Hardyknute
Wan neir his flately tower;
His tower that us'd with torches bleife,
To fhyne fae far at night,

Seim'd now as black as mourning weid,
Nae mervel fair he seight.

XLI.

There's nae light in my lady's bowir,
There's nae light in my hall;
Nae blynk Jhynes round my Fairly fair,
Nor Warp fands on my wall.
What bodes it? Robert, Thomas fay.
Nae answer fits their dreid.
Stand back, my fons, I'll be your gyde,
But by they paft with speid.

XLII.

As fast as I baefed owre Scotland's faes,
Their ceift his brag of weir,

Scir fham'd to mynd ought but his dame,
And maiden Fairly fair,

Elack fear he felt, but what to fear,

He wift not yet with dreid;

Sair fhock his body, fair his limbs,
And all the warrior fled.

*

The

Ufk

The Braes of YARROW.

But ye, bulk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

ye, bufk ye, my winfome marrow,, Bufk ye, bufk ye, my bonny bonny bride, And let us leave the braes of Yarrow.

Where got ye that bonny bonny bride,.
Where got ye that winfome marrow?

I

got her where I durft not well be seen, Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride,
Weep not, weep not, my winfome marrow,
Nor let thy heart lament to leave
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

Why does fhe weep, thy bonny bonny bride ?.
Why does the weep thy winfome marrow ?
And why dare ye nae mair well be seen
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?

Lang muft fhe weep, lang must she, muft fhe weep,,
Lang muft fhe weep with dole and forrow,
And lang muft I nae mair well be seen,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

For fhe has tint her lover, lover dear,
Her lover dear, the cause of forrow ;:
And I have flain the comeliest swain,

That ever pu'd birks on the braes of Yarrow.

Why runs thy ftream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid ??
Why on thy braes heard the voice of forrow,

And why yon melancholious weeds,

Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow?

What's yonder floats on the rueful, rueful flood?
What's yonder floats? O dole and forrow!

O'tis the comely fwain I flew

Upon the doleful braes of Yarrow..

T. 3,

Wal

Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears,
His wounds in tears of dole and forrow,
And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds,
And lay him on the braes of Yarrow.

Then build, then build, ye fifters, fifters fad,
Ye fifters fad, his tomb with sorrow,
And weep around in woful wife,

His helpless fate on the braes of Yarrow.

Curfe ye, curfe ye, his useless useless shield,
My arm that wrought the deed of forrow,
The fatal fpear that pierc'd his breast,
His comely breast on the braes of Yarrow.

Did I not warn thee not to, not to love,
And warn from fight? but to my forrow,

Too rafhly bold, a ftronger arm

Thou mett'ft, and fell on the braes of Yarrow.

Sweet fmells the birk, green grows, green grows the Yellow on Yarrow's braes the

gowan,

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,

Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan.

[grafs,

Flows Yarrow fweet, as sweet, as fweet flows Tweed, As green its grafs, its gowan as yellow,

As fweet fmells on its braes the birk,

The apple from its rocks as mellow.

Fair was thy love, fair, fair indeed thy love,

In flow'ry bands thou didst him fetter;
Tho' he was fair, and well belov'd again,
Than me he never lov'd thee better.

Bufk ye, then bufk, my bonny bonny bride,
Bufk then bufk, my
ye,
winfome marrow,
Bufk ye, and loe me on the banks of Treed,
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow.

How