The niest an' weed that he drew on,
Was gude iron and steel;60
Twa gloves o' plate, a gowden helmet,
Became that hind chiel weel.
Then out it speaks that lady gay,
A little forbye stood she;
"I'll dress mysell in men's array,65
Gae to the fields for thee."
"O God forbid," said Livingston,
"That e'er I dree the shame;
My lady slain in plain fields,
And I coward knight at hame!"70
He scarcely travelled frae the town
A mile but barely twa,
Till he met wi' a witch woman,
I pray to send her wae.
"This is too gude a day, my lord,75
To gang sae far frae town;
This is too gude a day, my lord,
On field to make you boun'.
"I dream'd a dream concerning thee,
O read ill dreams to guid!80
Your bower was full o' milk-white swans,
Your bride's bed full o' bluid."
"O bluid is gude," said Livingston,
"To bide it whoso may;
If I be frae yon plain fields,85
Nane knew the plight I lay."
Then he rade on to plain fields,
As swift's his horse cou'd hie;
And there he met the proud Seaton,
Come boldly ower the lee.90
"Come on to me now, Livingston,
Or then take foot and flee;
This is the day that we must try
Who gains the victorie."