And to his mother he has gane,
That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!
He says—"My lady has a cup,
Wi' gowd and silver set about;
This goodly gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o' her young bairn."—
(faem, sea. dree, suffer.)
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:
But she shall die, and turn to clay,