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“ He leanit himsel agenst ane aek,

Nae mair cou'd act his parte; A wudman then sprang frae the brume,

And percit young Harden's herte.

“Bein yald and stout, he wheelit about,

And kluve his head in twaine; Then calmlye laid him on the grene,

Niver to ryse againe.

I raid owr heicht, I raid through howe,

And ferr outstrippit the wynde, And sent my voyce the forest throw,

But naething cou'd I fynde.

" And whan I came, the dysmal syghte

Wad melt an herte of stane! My brither fente and bleiden laye,

Young Harden neirly gane.

"And art thou there, O Gilmanscleuch!

Wi' faltren tongue he cried, Hadst thou arrivit tyme eneuch,

Thy kinsmen hadna died.

"Be kind unto thy sister Jean,

Whatever may betide ;
This nycht I meint, at Gilmanscleuch,

To maik of hir my bride :

“ But this sad fraye, this fatal daye,

May breid baith dule and payne, My freckle brithren ne'er will staye

Till they're avengit or slayne.

“ The wudman sleeps in Sundhope brume,

Into a lowlye grave; Young Jock they bure to Harden's tome,

And layde him wi' the lave.

“ Thus fell that brave and cumlye youth,

Whose arm was like the steel; Whose very look was opin truth,

Whose heart was true and leel.

“It's now full three-and-thirty zeirs

Syn that unhappye daye,
And late I saw his cumlye corpse

Without the leist dekaye:

" The garland cross his breast aboon,

Still held its varied hew;
The roses bloom'd upon his shoon

As faire as if they grew.

"I raised our vassals ane and a',

Wi' mickil care and pain, Expecting Harden's furious sons

Wi' all their father's train.

" But Harden was a wierdly man,

A cunnin' tod was he;
He lockit his sons in prison straung,

And wi' him bore the key.

“ And hee's awa to Holy Rood,

Amang our nobles a',
With bonnit lyke a girdel braid,

And hayre like Craighop snaw;

"! His coat was like the forest grene,

Wi' buttons lyke the moon; His breeks war of the gude buck-skynne,

Wi' a' the hayre aboon.

His twa-hand sword hung around his neck,

And ratuled to his heel;
The rowels of his silver spurs,

Were of the Rippon steel;

" His hose were braced wi' chaine o' airn,

And round wi' tassels hung, At ilka tramp of Harden's heel

The royal arches rung.

“ The courtly nobles of the north

The chief with wonder eyed,
But Harden's form, and Harden's look,

Were hard to be denied.

“ He made his plaint unto our king,

And magnified the deed; While high Buccleuch, with pith enouch,

Made Harden better speed.

" Ane grant of all our lands sae fayre,

The king to him has gi'en,
And all the Scotts of Gilmanscleuch

War outlawed ilka ane.

"The time I mist, and never wist

Of nae sic treacherye,
Till I got word frae kind Traquare,

The country shune to flee.

“For me and mine nae friend wad fynd,

But fa' ane easy preye ;
While yet my brither weakly was,

And scarce could brook the way.

Now I ha'e foucht in foreign fields,

In mony a bluddy fray,
But lang'd to see my native hills

Afore my dying day.

“My brother fell in Hungarye,

When fighting by my side'; My luckless sister bore ane son

But broke hir heart and dyed.

“That son, now a' my earthly care,

Of port and stature fine ;
He has thine eye, and is thy blood,

As weel as he is mine.

“For me, I'm but a puir auld man,

That name regairds ava;
The peaceful grave will end my care,

Where I maun shortly fa’.”

I ga'e him a' my goud, father,

I gat on New Year's day ;
And welcomed him to Harden ha',

With us awhile to stay."

“My sweet Peggye, my dear Peggye,

Ye ay were dear to me;
For ilka bonnet-piece ye gave,

My love, ye shall ha'e three.

"Auld Gilmanscleuch sal share wi' me

The table and the ha';
We'll tell of a' our doughty deeds

At hame and far awa.

“ That youth, my hapless brother's son,

Who bears our eye and name,
Sal farm the lands of Gilmanscleuch,

While Harden halds the same.

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