"I hope your grace will bettir be!
Else, ere ye come to Edinburgh port,
I trow thin guarded sall ye be:
"Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste feir,
I wan them from the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,
Contrair a' kingis in Christentie."
All the nobilis the king about,
Said pitie it were to see him die—