"Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,145
I may not believe that witch ladìe;
The Douglasses were ever true,
And they can ne'er prove false to mee.
"I have now in Lough-leven been
The most part of these years three,150
Yett have I never had noe outrake,
Ne no good games that I cold see.
"Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight:
Betide me weale, betide me woe,155
He ne'er shall find my promise light."
He writhe a gold ring from his finger,
And gave itt to that gay ladìe:
Sayes, "It was all that I cold save,
In Harley woods where I cold bee."160
"And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?
Then farewell truth and honestìe,
And farewell heart, and farewell hand,
For never more I shall thee see."
The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,165
And all the saylors were on borde;
Then William Douglas took to his boat,
And with him went that noble lord.
Then he cast up a silver wand,
Says, "Gentle lady, fare thee well!"170
The lady fett a sigh soe deep,
And in a dead swoone down shee fell.
"Now let us goe back, Douglas," he sayd,
"A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;
If ought befall yond lady but good,175
Then blamed for ever I shall bee."