Throw matelent, and werray propyr ire;
On a gret horss, in till his glitterand ger,
In fewtir kest a fellone aspre sper
The knycht Fenweik, that cruell was and keyne;
He had at dede off Wallace fadyr beyne,170
And his brodyr that douchty was and der.
Quhen Wallace saw that falss knycht was so ner,
His corage grew in ire as a lyoune.
Till him he ran, and fell frekis bar he doune;
As he glaid by, aukwart he couth hym ta,175