XVIII.

To me nae after day nor nicht,
Can eir be fweit or fair,

But fune beneath fum draping tree,
Cauld death fall end my care.
With him nae pleiding micht prevail,
Brave HARDYKNUTE in to gain,
With faireft words and reason strong,
Strave courteously in vain.

XIX.

Syne he has gane far hynd attowre,
Lord CHATTANS land fae wyde,
That lord a worthy wicht was ay,
Quhen faes his courage feyd:
Of Pictish race by mothers fyde,
Quhen Picts ruld Caledon,

Lord CHATTAN claimd the princely maid,
Quhen he faift Pictish crown.

XX.

Now with his ferfs and stalwart train,

He reicht a ryfing heicht,

Quhair braid encampit on the dale,

Norfs menzie lay in ficht; Zonder my valiant fons and ferss, Our raging revers wait,

On the unconquerit Scottish fwaird,

XXI.

Mak orifons to him that faift

Our fauls upon the rude,

Syne braifly schaw zour veins ar filld

With Caledonian blude.

Then furth he drew his trufty glaive,

Quhyle thousands all arround,
Drawn frae their sheaths glanft in the fun,
And loud the bougills found.

XXII.

To join his king adoun the hill

In haft his merch he made,

Quhyle, playand pibrochs, minftralls meit
Afore him stately strade;

Thryfe welcome, valziant ftoup of weir,

Thy nations scheild and pryde;

Thy king nae reafon has to feir

Quhen thou art by his fyde.

XXIII.

Quhen bows were bent and darts were thrawn,
For thrang fcarce could they flie,

The darts clove arrows as they met,
The arrows dart the trie.

Lang did they rage and ficht full ferfs,

With little skaith to man,

But bludy, bludy was the field,

Or that lang day was done.

XXIV.

The king of Scots that findle bruik'd
The war that luikd like play,

Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow,
Sen bows feimt but delay:

Quoth noble ROTHSAY, myne I'll keip,
I wate its bleid a skore.

Hast up my merry men, cryd the king,
As he rade on before.

XXV.

The king of Norfe he focht to find,
With him to mense the faucht,
But on his forehead there did licht
A fharp unfonfie thaft;

As he his hand put up to find

The wound, an arrow kene,

O waefou chance! there pinnd his hand In midft betwene his ene.

XXVI.

Revenge, revenge, cryd ROTHSAYS heir,
Your mail-coat fall nocht byde
The strength and sharpness of my dart;
Then fent it through his fyde:

Another arrow weil he markd,
It perfit his neck in twa,

His hands then quat the filver reins,
His law as eard did fa.

XXVII.

Sair bleids my liege, fair, fair he bleids.

Again with micht he drew

And gefture dreid his sturdy bow,

Faft the braid arrow flew :

Wae to the knicht he ettled at,

Lament now quene ELGREID,
Hie dames to wail zour darlings fall,
His zouth and comely meid.

XXVIII.

Take aff, take aff his coftly jupe (Of gold weil was it twynd,

Knit lyke the fowlers net throuch quhilk

His fteilly harness shynd)

Take NORSE, that gift frae me, and bid
Him venge the blude it beirs;
Say, if he face my bended bow,
He fure nae weapon fears.

XXIX.

Proud NORSE with giant body tall,
Braid fhoulder and arms strong,
Cryd, quhair is HARDYKNUTE fae famd,
And feird at Britains throne?
Tho Britons tremble at his name,

I fune fall make him wail,

That eir my fword was made fae sharp,

Sae faft his coat of mail.

XXX.

That brag his ftout heart coud na byde.
It lent him zouthfou micht:
I'M HARDYKNUTE this day, he cryd,
To Scotlands king I hecht,

To lay thee low at horfes hufe,

My word I mean to keip.

Syne with the first strake eir he strake,

He garrd his body bleid.

XXXI.

NORSE ene like gray gofehawks ftaird wyld,
He ficht with fhame and spyte;
Difgracd is now my far-famd arm
That left thee power to ftryke:
Then gaif his head a blaw fae fell,
It made him doun to stoup,
As law as he to ladies ufit,

In courtly gyfe to lout.

XXXII.

Full fune he reis'd his bent body,

His bow he marvelld fair,

Sen blaws till then on him but darrd
As touch of FAIRLY fair:

NORSE ferliet too as fair as he

To fe his stately luke,

Sae fune as eir he strake a fae,

Sae fune his lyfe he tuke.