And still, when seven years are o'er,
Is heard the jarring sound;
When slowly opes the charmed door
Of the chamber under ground.
And some within the chamber door
Have cast a curious eye;
But none dare tell, for the spirits in hell,
The fearful sights they spy.
When Soulis thought on his merry men now,
A woeful wight was he;
Says—"Vengeance is mine, and I will not repine!
"But Branxholm's heir shall die."
Says—"What would ye do, young Branxholm,
"Gin ye had me, as I have thee?"
"I would take you to the good greenwood,
"And gar your ain hand wale[72] the tree."
"Now shall thine ain hand wale the tree,
"For all thy mirth and meikle pride;
"And May shall chuse, if my love she refuse,
"A scrog bush thee beside."
They carried him to the good greenwood,
Where the green pines grew in a row;
And they heard the cry, from the branches high,
Of the hungry carrion crow.
They carried him on from tree to tree,
The spiry boughs below;
"Say, shall it be thine, on the tapering pine,
"To feed the hooded crow?"
"The fir-tops fall by Branxholm wall,
"When the night blast stirs the tree,
"And it shall not be mine to die on the pine,
"I loved in infancie."
Young Branxholm turned him, and oft looked back,
And aye he passed from tree to tree;
Young Branxholm peeped, and puirly[73] spake,
"O sic a death is no for me!"