XXXIII.
Where like a fire to heather set,
Bauld Thomas did advance,
Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd
Up toward him did prance; 260
He spurr'd his steid through thickest ranks
The hardy youth to quell,
Wha stood unmov'd at his approach
His fury to repell.
XXXIV.
"That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, 265
Looks like poor Scotlands gear,
But dreadfull seems the rusty point!"
And loud he leugh in jear.[504]
"Oft Britons b[l]ood has dimm'd its shine;
This point cut short their vaunt:" 270
Syne pierc'd the boasters bearded cheek;
Nae time he took to taunt.
XXXV.
Short while he in his saddle swang,
His stirrup was nae stay,
Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275
Sure taiken he was fey:[505]
Swith[506] on the harden't clay he fell,
Right far was heard the thud:
But Thomas look't nae as he lay
All waltering in his blud.
XXXVI.
With careless gesture, mind unmov't,
On rode he north the plain;
His seem in throng of fiercest strife,
When winner ay the same:
Not yet his heart dames dimplet cheek 285
Could mease[507] soft love to bruik,
Till vengefu' Ann return'd his scorn,
Then languid grew his luik.
XXXVII.
In thraws of death, with walowit[508] cheik
All panting on the plain, 290
The fainting corps of warriours lay,
Ne're to arise again;
Ne're to return to native land,
Nae mair with blithsome sounds
To boast the glories of the day, 295
And shaw their shining wounds.