"I'le make that vow with all my heart,
My men shall bear witness with me;310
And if thou slay me here this day,
In Scotland worse belov'd thou never shalt be."
They turn'd their horses thrice about,
To run the race so eagerly;
Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,315
And ran Tom Pots through the thick o' th' thigh.
He bor'd him out of the saddle fair,
Down to the ground so sorrowfully:
"For the loss of my life I do not care,
But for the loss of my fair lady.320
"Now for the loss of my lady sweet,
Which once I thought to have been my wife,
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,
For with thee I would end my life."
Tom Pots was but a serving-man,325
But yet he was a doctor good;
He bound his handkerchief on his wound,
[And with some kind of words he stancht his blood].
He leapt into his saddle again,
The blood in his body began to warm;330
He mist Lord Phenix body fair,
And ran him through the brawn of the arm.
He bor'd him out of his saddle fair,
Down to the ground most sorrowfully;
Says, "Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,335
Or yield my lady unto me."
"Now for to fight I cannot tell,
And for to fight I am not sure;
Thou hast run me throw the brawn o' the arm,
That with a spear I may not endure.340
"Thou'st have the lady with all my heart;
It was never likely better to prove
With me, or any nobleman else,
That would hinder a poor man of his love."