Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/319

 Nae warder strade, wi lustie spere, that dreirie lodge before; Nae harp is heard inurth the hall, and nae sang frae ladie braive, But al was quiet as Ermites houff, and stylliche as the grave.

Swith pacit thai in be twa and twa, ilk wi his outdrawn swerd, And thai gang throu vaultit passages, albeit nae sound thay heard, Bot and it was the heavy clamp quhilk thair fit rang on the flore, Til that thay stude, ilk knicht of them, fomentes the grit hall dore.

Now enter thou, the bauld Syr Hew, for treason do we feare; Now entir first, as Captaine thou, of your brithern knichtis sae dier; For syne the gude Lord Archibald was layd aneth the stane, Our manlyke courage has yfled, and al our hertis have gane.