'O say na sae, my master dear,
For I fear a deadly storm.'
What next follows is like Hardyknute:
'But, O my master dear,' he cried,
In green wood ye're your lane;
Gie ower sic thoughts, I wad ye reid,
For fear ye should be tane.'
'Haste, haste! I say, gae to the ha';
Bid her come here wi' speed:
If ye refuse my heigh command,