The gown and hoiss in clay that claggit was,455
The hude heklyt, and maid him for to pass.
The qwhipe he tuk, syne furth the mar can call;
Atour a bray the omast pot gert fall,
Brak on the ground. The man lewch at his fair;
‘Bot thow be war, thow tynys off thi chaiffair.’460
The sone be than was passit out off sicht,
The day our went, and cummyn was the nycht.
Amang Sotheroun full besyly he past;
On athir side his eyne he gan to cast,