XXXII
‘I winna let the kye gae back,
Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear;
But I will drive Jamie Telfer’s kye,
In spite of every Scott that’s here.’—
XXXIII
‘Set on them, lads!’ quo’ Willie than;
‘Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom[1232] saddle there sall be!’
XXXIV
Then till ’t[1233] they gaed wi’ heart and hand,
The blows fell thick as bickering hail;
And mony a horse ran masterless,
And mony a comely cheek was pale.
XXXV
But Willie was stricken ower the head,
And thro’ the knapscap[1234] the sword has gane;
And Harden grat[1235] for very rage,
Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.
XXXVI
But he’s ta’en aff his gude steel cap,
And thrice he’s waved it in the air—
The Dinlay snaw was ne’er mair white
Nor the lyart[1236] locks of Harden’s hair.