“Thir ar the syngnys that ye sall knaw him by;
“A bar off blew in till his schenand scheild,
“A bend off greyn desyren ay the feild.
“The rede betakynnys blud and hardyment,115
“The greyn, curage, encressand his entent;
“The blew he beris, becauss he is a Crystyn man.”
Sadly agayn Wallace ansuerd than;
‘Thocht he be crystynyt, this war no godlyk deid.
‘Go wndyr loft; Sanct Androw mot ws speid!’120
Bathe schip maistir, and the ster man also,