Then spak the lord, hight Hamilton,
And to the nobil king said he,
"My sovereign liege, sum council tak,
First at your nobilis, syne at me.
"Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore,
And bring four in his cumpanie;
Five erles sall gang yoursell befor,
Gude cause that you suld honour'd be.
"And, gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess baith his landis and he;
"There sall nevir a Murray, after him,
Hald land in Ettricke Foreste frie."
Then spak the kene laird of Buckscleuth,
A stalworthye man, and sterne was he--
"For a king to gang an Outlaw till,
Is beneath his state and his dignitie.
"The man that wons yon Foreste intill,
He lives by reif and felonie!
Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege!
Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee;
Or, gif your courtrie lords fa' back,
Our borderers sall the onset gie."
Then out and spak the nobil king,
And round him cast a wilie e'e--
"Now haud thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott,
Nor speik of reif nor felonie:
For, had everye honeste man his awin kye,
A right puir clan thy name wad be!"
The king then call'd a gentleman,
Royal banner bearer there was he;
James Hop Pringle of Torsonse, by name;
He cam and knelit upon his kne.
"Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!
A message ye maun gang for me;
Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray,
Surely where bauldly bideth he.
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