“Oh! wha sleeps here, May Beatrix,
Without the leave o’ me?”
“Oh! wha suld it be but my young brother
Frae Padua ower the sea!
“My father was the Earl Gowrie,
An Earl o’ high degree,
But they hae slain him by fause treason,
And gar’d my brothers flee.
“At Padua hae they learned their leir
In the fields o’ Italie;
And they hae crossed the saut sea-faem,
And a’ for love o’ me!”
* * * *
The Queen has cuist her siller band
About his craig o’ snaw;
But still he slept and naething kenned,
Aneth the Hollans shaw.
The King he daundered thro’ the yaird,
He saw the siller shine;
“And wha,” quoth he, “is this galliard
That wears yon gift o’ mine?”
The King has gane till the Queen’s ain bower,
An angry man that day;
But bye there cam’ May Beatrix
And stole the band away.
And she’s run in by the dern black yett,
Straight till the Queen ran she:
“Oh! tak ye back your siller band,
Or it gar my brother dee!”
The Queen has linked her siller band
About her middle sma’;
And then she heard her ain gudeman
Come rowting through the ha’.
“Oh! whare,” he cried, “is the siller band
I gied ye late yestreen?
The knops was a’ o’ the diamond stane,
Set in the siller sheen.”