15
Twa days were gane, whan to her deir
Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir.
16
'My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip,
Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip!
17
'My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain
Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!'
18
Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude:
'Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.'
19
They socht her up and they socht her doun,
And spyd at last her glisterin gown.
20
They raisd her wi richt meikle care;
Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.
O.
a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 128. b. Traditional Ballad Airs, edited by W. Christie, I, 42.
1
There were twa sisters in a bower,
Hey wi the gay and the grinding
And ae king's son has courted them baith.
At the bonny bonny bows o London
2
He courted the youngest wi broach and ring,
He courted the eldest wi some other thing.