Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/320



The dark Sir Hew gade on before, and ane yreful man was he; "Oh, schame upon your manheidis al, and dishonour on ye be; "Quhat fleyis ye sua that nane may daur to threuw this chalmer lok Then wi' his iron gauntlet he that aiken dore has broke.

"Come in, Syr Hew; come in, Syr Hew;" a voice cryit fra within; "Come in, Syr Hew, my buirdly bairn, quhilk are sua wicht and grim, "But nevir nane sal entir here bot an yoursel alane; "Now welcum blythe to dark Sir Hew in this puir lodge of stane."

Ilk knicht did hear the lonsum voyce, but the speiker nane did see, And dark Syr Hew waxit deadlie pale, quhyl the mist cam owre his ee. "Now turn wi' me, my merrie men al, to bald us on our way,