XXIII
‘But had I kenn’d ere I cam’ frae hame,
How thou unkind wadst been to me!
I wad have keepit the Border side,
In spite of all thy force and thee.
XXIV
‘Wist England’s King that I was ta’en,
O gin a blythe man he wad be!
For anes I slew his sister’s son,
And on his breist bane brak a trie.’
XXV
John wore a girdle about his middle,
Imbroider’d owre wi’ burning gold,
Bespangled wi’ the same metal,
Maist beautiful was to behold.
XXVI
There hung nine targats[552] at Johnie’s hat,
And ilk ane worth three hundred pound—
‘What wants that knave that a King suld have,
But the sword of honour and the crown?’
XXVII
‘O where got thou these targats, Johnie,
That blink sae brawlie[553] abune thy brie[554]?’—
‘I gat them in the field fechting,
Where, cruel King, thou durst not be.