Norse ene like gray gosehawks staird wyld,
He sicht with shame and spyte;
Disgracd is now my far-famd arm
That left thee power to stryke:
Then gaif his head a blaw sae fell,
It made him doun to stoup,
As law as he to ladies usit,
In courtly gyse to lout.
XXXII.
Full sune he reis'd his bent body,
His bow he marvelld sair,
Sen blaws till then on him but darrd
As touch of fairly fair:
Norse ferliet too as sair as he
To se his stately luke,
Sae sune as eir he strake a fae,
Sae sune his lyfe he tuke.
Quair lyke a fyre to hether set,
Bauld thomas did advance,
A sturdy fae with luke enragd
Up towards him did prance;
He spurd his steid throw thickest ranks
The hardy zouth to quell
Quha stude unmusit at his approach
His furie to repel.
XXXIV.
That schort brown shaft sae meanly trimd,
Lukis lyke poor Scotlands geir,
But dreidfull seims the rusty point!
And loud he leuch in jeir.
Aft Britains blude has dimd its shyne
This poynt cut short their vaunt;
Syne piercd the boisteris bairded cheik,
Nae tyme he tuke to taunt.
XXXV.
Schort quhyle he in his sadill swang,
His stirrip was nae stay,
Sae feible hang his unbent knee,
Sure taken he was fey:
Swith on the hardened clay he fell,
Richt far was heard the thud,
But thomas luikt not as he lay,
All waltering in his blude.