XXXVI
‘O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seal’d by my own han’;
Ye may mak’ search for Young Etin
As soon as ever ye can.’
XXXVII
They search’d the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And they found him into Elmond’s wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.
XXXVIII
‘Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin,
Win up an’ boun[269] wi’ me;
We’re messengers come frae the court;
The King wants you to see.’—
XXXIX
‘O lat them tak’ frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I’ve lost my dear lady,
Life’s no pleasure to me.’—
XL
‘Your head will na be touch’d, Etin,
Nor you hang’d on a tree;
Your lady’s in her father’s court
And a’ he wants is thee.’