Page:Heir of Linne, an old ballad.pdf/5

 He looked up, he looked down,

in hope some comfort for to win:

But bare and lothly were the walls,

'Here's sorry cheer' quo' the Heir on Linne.

The little window, dim and dark,

was hung with ivy, brier and yew;

Nae simmer sun here ever shone,

nae halesome breeze here ever blew.

Nae chair, nae table could he spy,

nae cheerful hearth, nae welcome bed,

Nought but a rope wi' rinning noose,

that dangling hung up o'er his head.

And o'er it in broad letters

these words were wrote so plain to see: -

Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all

and brought thyself to penurie?

All this my boding mind misgave

I therefore left this trusty friend;

Let it now shield thy foul disgrace,

and all thy shame and sorrows end.

Exceeding vext wi' this rebuke,

exceeding vext was the Heir of Linne,

His heart I wot was near to burst

with guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.

Never a word spake the Heir of Linne,

never a word but these spake he:

'This a is trusty friend indeed,

'and is right welcome unto me.'

Then round his neck the cord he drew,

and sprung aloft with his bodie;