"
When that they cam befor the king,
They fell befor him on their kne--
"Grant mercie, mercie, nobil king!
E'en for his sake that dyed on trie."
"Sicken like mercie sall ye have;
On gallows ye sall hangit be!"
"Over God's forbode," quoth the Outlaw then,
"I hope your grace will bettir be!
Else, ere ye come to Edinburgh port,
I trow thin guarded sall ye be:
"Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste feir,
I wan them from the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,
Contrair a' kingis in Christentie."
All the nobilis the king about,
Said pitie it were to see him die--
"Yet graunt me mercie, sovereign prince!
Extend your favour unto me!
"I'll give thee the keys of my castell,
Wi' the blessing o' my gaye ladye,
Gin thoul't mak me sheriffe of this Foreste,
And a' my offspring after me."
"Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,
Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye?
I'se mak thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste,
Surely while upwards grows the trie;
If you be not traitour to the king,
Forfaulted sall thou nevir be."
"But, prince, what sall cum o' my men?
When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me.
I had rather lose my life and land,
E'er my merryemen rebuked me."
"Will your merryemen amend their lives?
And a' their pardons I graunt thee--
Now, name thy landis where'er they lie,
And here I RENDER them to thee.
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