re ill to bear
By any valiant knight;
And each drew forth his sword o' weir,
And stood prepared for fight.

They startit, they partit,
Then on each other sprang;
They lungit, they plungit,
Till all the welkin rang.
They ogglit, they gogglit,
Amidst the dread deray;
They chirnit, they girnit,
Like bluidy beasts of prey.

They rattlit, they brattlit,
Each cuirass upon;
They hackit, they thwackit,
Each other's morion.
They reel it, they wheelit,
And quick came round again;
They burstit, they thrust it,
With all their might and main.

They smeekit, they reek it,
Like to ane smouldering kiln;
They peghit, they sighit,
Each other's blood to spill,
They trampit, they stampit,
Like animals run wud;
They flarit, they glarit,
With eyne yred with bluid.

At length, to end the bluidy deeds,
They raised their falchions keen,
And down upon each other's heads
They clove them to the chin.
But 'tis not true, as I've heard tell,
And I do not believe
That when these doughty lovers fell,
_One laughed within her sleeve_.

But I have also heard it said,
And I again it say,
And I would like to see the head
With tongue in't to say nay--
That as these pates lay on the ground
(As there they yet may lie),
_One eye in each cloved head was found
Fixed on that chamber high_.

XX.

THE BALLAD OF GOLDEN COUNSEL.

Come Mary and Martha, Jeanie and Jenny,
And sit down and listen, baith ane and a',
To me, wha may very weel be your grannie,
And aiblins may ken ae thing or twa.

This world is no so sweet and so bonnie
As you in your young hearts may suppose;
There's aloes in it as weel as honey,
And aye some prickles on ilka rose.

Young lasses I think are something like fillies
Let out in a field to idle and eat,
To graze by the gowans and drink by the willows,
And never to dream of a bridle _a bit_.

It's no what ye eat, it's no what you drink, dears,
It's no your bonnets, or ribbons, or skirts,
The trinkets ye wear, or the siller ye clink, dears--
There's something, I wean, far nearer your hearts.

Your thoughts are mair of him you will marry,
What the colour may be of his hair,
Whether aye cheery, or sometimes chary,
What his complexion, or dark or fair.

But men they are gude, and men they are ill, dears,
You may get the leal or the lazy loon;
A lover is aft like a gilded pill, dears,
The bitter comes after it's gulped doon.

I fear ye hae little of power