If you'll not come yourfelfe my lorde,
Yet fend your chamberlaine with mee;
Let me but speak three words with him,

And he shall come again to thee.

James Swynard with that lady went,

110

She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were Waiting for his master and him.

And who walkes yonder, my good lady,

So royallyè on yonder greene?

O yonder is the lord Hunfdèn † :
Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene.

And who beth yonder, thoù gay ladye,
That walkes so proudly him befide ?
That is Sir William Drury ||, fhe fayd,
A keen captàine he is and tryed.

How many miles is it, madàme,
Betwixt yond English lords and mee?

Marry it is thrice fifty miles,

To fayl to them upon the fea.

115

120

125

The Lord Warden of the Eaft marches.

Governor of Berwick.

I never

I never was on English ground,

Ne never fawe it with mine eye, But as my book it fheweth mee,

And through my ring I may defcrye.

130

My mother she was a witch ladye,

And of her fkille fhe learned mee;

She wold let me fee out of Lough-leven

What they did in London citìe.

135

But who is yond, thou lady faire,

That looketh with fic an aufterne face? Yonder is Sir John Fofter †, quoth fhee, Alas! he'll do ye fore difgrace.

140

He pulled his hatt down over his browe,
And in his heart he was full of woe;
And he is gone to his noble lord,

'Thofe forrowful tidings him to show.

Now nay, now nay, good James Swynard,
I may not believe that witch ladìe:

145

And I have never had noe outrake,
Ne no good games that I cold fee.

Therefore I'll to yond fhooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight:
Betide me weale, betide me woe,

He ne'er fhall find my promise light.

He writhe a gold ring from his finger,
it
gave to that faire ladìe:

155

And
Sayes, It was all that I cold fave,

In Harley woods where I could be*.

160

And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord,

Then farewell truth and honestìe ;
And farewell heart and farewell hand ;
For never more I fhall thee fee.

The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,
And all the faylors were on borde;
Then William Douglas took to his boat,
And with him went that noble lord.

165

Now let us goe back, Douglas, he fayd,

A fickness hath taken yond faire ladìe ;
If ought befall yond lady but good,

Then blamed for ever I fhall bee.

Come on, come on, my lord, he fayes;
Come on, come on, and let her bee:
There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven
gay ladìe.

For to chear that

If you'll not turne yourself, my lord,
Let me goe with my chamberlaine;
We will but comfort that faire lady,
And wee will return to you againe.

175

180

Come on, come on, my lord, he sayes,

Come on, come on, and let her bee:

My fifter is crafty, and wold beguile

A thousand such as you and mee.

When they had fayled ‡ fifty mile,
Fifty mile upon the fea;

He fent his man to ask the Douglas,
When they fhold that shooting fee.

There is no navigable ftream between Lough-leven and the fea:

but a ballad-maker is not obliged to understand Geography.

Faire words, quoth he, they make fools faine,

And that by thee and thy lord is feen:
You may hap to think it foon enough,
Ere you that shooting reach, I ween.

Jamey his hatt pulled over his browe,
He thought his lord then was betray'd;
And he is to Earle Percy againe,

To tell him what the Douglas fayd.

Hold up thy head, man, quoth his lord;
Nor therefore let thy courage fail :
He did it but to prove thy heart,

To fee if he cold make it quail.

When they had other fifty fayld,

Other fifty mile upon the fea,
Lord Percy call'd to the Douglas himselfe,
Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?

Looke that your bridle be wight, my lord,

And your horfe goe swift as ship at sea :

Looke that your fpurres be bright and sharp,

What needeth this, Douglas, he fayd;
What needeft thou to flyte with mee?
For I was counted a horfeman good

Before that ever I met with thee.

3

195.

200

205

210

215

A falfe