With sorowfull sighes as euer man herde:
For sorowe and pity, I gan[1885] nere to resorte:
His sore exclamations made mee afferde:[1886]
Mine eyes opened, I sawe his grim bearde:[1887]
I knewe not verely, who it should bee:
Hee cryde, as hee had beene stickt with a swerde:
“Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
3.
Of Scotland (hee sayde) late I was king,
With crowne on my[1888] head, and scepter in hand: