"That trattles in thy head."
She has call'd upon her bower maidens,
She has call'd them ane by ane;
"There lies a deid man in my bour:
"I wish that he were gane!"
They hae booted him, and spurred him,
As he was wont to ride;—
A hunting-horn tied round his waist,
A sharp sword by his side;
And they hae had him to the wan water,