"Hir face a smile perpetual wore, "But, mark! what dool and care, fair maid For beauty's but a snare, Young Jock of Harden her betrayed, "My, brother, Adam, stormed and raged, And swore in angry mood, Either to right his dear sister, Or shed the traytor's blood. "I kend his honor fair and firm, "When June had deck'd the bracs in grene And flushed the forest tree: When young deers ranne on ilka hill, "A shepherd frae our mountains hied, "Our ewes are banished frae the glen, "His hounds are ringing thro' your wood "Your brother Adam, stout and strong, I warned on yon hill-side; And he's away to Yarrow's banks. "O ill betide thy haste, young man! 'Gae, saddel me my milk-white steed, To Yarrow banks I'll hie wi' speed, "But, low, low down, on Sundhop broom, My brother Harden spyd; And, with a stern and furious look, He up to him did ride. "Was't not enough, thou traytor strong, My sister to betray? That thou shouldst scare my feebil ewes, And chase the lambs away? Thy hounds ar ringing through our woods Our choicest deers ar slaine; And hundreds fledd to Stuart's hills, "It setts thee weel, thou haughtye youth, To bend such taunts on me; Oft ha'e you hunted Aikwood hills "But wilt thou wedd my dear sister? "Tak this for truth, I ne'er meant ill To nouther thee nor thine.' Then spurrit his steed against the hill, "He set a buglet to his mouth, "O turn thee, turn thee, traytor strong; Cried Adam bitterlie; "Nae haughtye Scott, of Harden's kin, Sal proodlye scool on me. 666 "Now draw thy sword, or gi'e thy word, For one of them I'll have, Or to thy face I'll thee disgrace "He sprang frae aff his coal-black steed, Then threw his bonnet aff his head, "And lang they foucht, and sair they foucht Wi' swords of mettyl kene, Till clotted blud, in mony a spot, "And lang they foucht, and sair they foucht, For braiver there war nane; Braive Adam's thye was baithit in blud, "Though Adam was baith stark and guide, Nae longer cou'd he stande; His hand claive to his hivvye sword, His nees plett lyke the wande. "He leanit himsel agenst ane aek, "Bein yald and stout, he wheelit about, "I raid owr heicht, I raid through howe, "And whan I came, the dysmal syghte "And art thou there, O Gilmanscleuch! "Be kind unto thy sister Jean, This nycht I meint, at Gilmanscleuch, |