To beg my bread from door to door
I wis, it were a burning shame:
To rob and steal it were a sin:
To work my limbs I cannot frame.
Now I'll away to lonesome lodge,
For there my father bade me wend;
When all the world should frown on me,
I there should find a trusty friend.
PART THE SECOND.
He looked up, he looked down,
In hope some comfort for to win:
But bare and loathly were the walls.
Here's sorry cheer, quo' the heir of Linne.
The little window dim and dark
Was hung with ivy, brier, and yew;
No shimmering sun here ever shone;
No wholesome breeze here ever blew.
No chair nor table he mote spy,
No cheerful hearth, no welcome bed,
Nought save a rope with running noose
That dangling hung up o'er his head.
And over it in broad lettèrs,
These words were written plain to see:
"Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all,
And brought thyself to penury?
"All this my boding mind misgave,
I therefore left this trusty friend:
Let it now shield thy foul disgrace,
And all thy shame and sorrows end."
Sorely shent[103] wi' this rebuke,
Sorely shent was the heir of Linne;
His heart, I wis, was near to burst
With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.