I know thou Carr of Etal art,
Black Castle’s heir am I.
But trust me, Etal, pity ’twere,
And great offence to kill,
Doory and Swinburn, harmless youths,
For they can do no ill.
Let you and I the battle try,
And set our men aside:
Accurst be he, bold Etal cried,
By whom this is denied.