"Rise up, Lord Darcie, sey thy brand,

And fling thy mail away;

For foot to foot, and hand to hand,

We'll now decide the day."

So said, so done; their helms they flung, Their doublets linked and sheen;

And hawberk, armlet, cuirass, rung

Promiscuous on the green.

"Now, Darcie! now thy dreaded name,

That oft has chilled a foe,

Thy hard-earned honours, and thy fame,

66

Depend on every blow.

Sharp be thine eye, and firm thy hand;

Thy heart unmoved remain;

For never was the Scottish brand

Upreared, and reared in vain.”

"Now do thy best, young Hamilton,

Rewarded shalt thou be;

Thy king, thy country, and thy kin,

All, all depend on thee!

"Thy father's heart yearns for his son,

The ladies' cheeks grow wan;

Wat Hamilton! Wat Hamilton!

Now prove thyself a man !"

"What makes Lord Darcie shift and dance

So fast around the plain?

What makes Lord Darcie strike and lance, As passion fired his brain?

"Lay on, lay on," said Hamilton;
"Thou bear'st thee boist'rously;
If thou shouldst pelt till day be done,

Thy weapon I defy.

"What makes Lord Darcie shift and wear

So fast around the plain?

Why is Lord Darcie's hollands fair

All stripped with crimson grain ?"—

The first blow that Earl Walter made He clove his whiskered chin, "Beshrew thy heart," Lord Darcie said, "Ye sharply do begin!"

The next blow that Earl Walter made,

Quite through the gare

it ran.

"Now, by my faith," Lord Darcie said,

"That's stricken like a man."

The third blow that Earl Walter made,

It pierced his lordly side.

"Now, by my troth," Lord Darcie said,

Lord Darcie's sword he forced a-hight,

And tripped him on the plain.

"O, ever alack," then cried the knight,

"I ne'er shall rise again!"

When good Earl Walter saw he grew

So pale, and lay so low,

Away his brace of swords he threw,

And raised his fainting foe.

Then rang the list with shouts of joy,
Loud and more loud they grew,

And many a bonnet to the sky

The tear stood in the father's eye,

He wiped his aged brow,—

"Give me thy hand, my gallant boy!

I knew thee not till now.

"My liege, my king, this is my son

Whom I present to thee;

Nor would I change Wat Hamilton

For all the lads I see!"

"Welcome, my friend and warrior old!

This gallant son of thine

Is much too good for baron bold,

He must be son of mine!

"For he shall wed my daughter dear,

The flower of fair Scotland;

The badge of honour he shall wear,

And sit at my right hand.

“And he shall have the lands of Kyle, And royal bounds of Clyde ;

And he shall have all Arran's isle

To dower his royal bride.”