"Tho' the night be black as pick and tar,
I'll guide ye o'er yon hill sae hie;
And bring ye a' in safety back,
If ye'll be true, and follow me."
He has guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and hope, and mony a down;
Until they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.
But word is gane to the land-serjeant,
In Askerton where that he lay--
"The deer, that ye hae hunted sae lang,
Is seen into the Waste this day."
"Then Hobbie Noble is that deer!
I wat he carries the style fu' hie;
Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back,
And set ourselves at little lee.
"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn;
See they sharp their arrows on the wa':
Warn Willeva, and Speir Edom,
And see the morn they meet me a'.
"Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,
And see it be by break o' day;
And we will on to Conscouthart-green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey."
Then Hobbie Noble has dreimt a dreim,
In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay;
He dreimt his horse was aneath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.
The cocks could craw, the day could daw,
And I wot sae even fell down the rain;
Had Hobble na wakened at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta'en or slain.
"Awake, awake, my feres five!
I trow here makes a fu' ill day;
Yet the worst cloak o' this company,
I hope, shall cross the Waste this day.
Pages:
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343