“Oh! wha sleeps here, May Beatnix,
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 was walking thro’ the yaird,
He saw the siller shine;
“And wha,” quo’ 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 little black yett,
Straight till the Queen ran she:
“Oh! tak ye back your siller band,
On it gar my brother dee!”
The Queen has linked her siller band
About her middle sma’;
And then she heard her ain gudeman
Come sounding 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.”