E'en cruel Lindsay shed a tear,
Forletting malice deep—
As mermaids, wi' their warbles clear,
Can sing the waves to sleep.
And now to bed they all are dight,
Now steek they ilka door:
There's nought but stillness o' the night,
Whare was sic din before.
Fell Lindsay puts his harness on,
His steed doth ready stand;
And up the stair-case is he gone,
Wi' poniard in his hand.
The sweat did on his forehead break,
He shook wi' guilty fear;
In air he heard a joyfu' shriek—
Red Cumin's ghaist was near.
Now to the chamber doth he creep—
A lamp, of glimmering ray,
Show'd young Kirkpatrick fast asleep,
In arms of lady gay.
He lay wi' bare unguarded breast,
By sleepy juice beguil'd;
And sometimes sigh'd, by dreams opprest,
And sometimes sweetly smiled.
Unclosed her mouth o' rosy hue,
Whence issued fragrant air,
That gently, in soft motion, blew
Stray ringlets o' her hair.
"Sleep on, sleep on, ye luvers dear!
"The dame may wake to weep—
"But that day's sun maun shine fou clear,
"That spills this warrior's sleep."
He louted down—her lips he prest—
O! kiss, foreboding woe!
Then struck on young Kirkpatrick's breast
A deep and deadly blow.
Sair, sair, and mickle, did he bleed:
His lady slept till day,
But dream't the Firth[90] flow'd o'er her head,
In bride-bed as she lay.