Thirlestane, a Fragment

Fer, fer hee raide, and fer hee gaed,
And aft hee sailit the sea ;
And thrise he crossit the Alpyne hyllis
To dystante Italye.

Beyonde Lough-Nesse hys tempil stude,
Ane celle of meikle fame ;
A knichte of guid Sainte John hee wals,
And Baldwyn wals hys name.

By wondyrous lore hee coulde explore,
Whatte after tymes wald be ;
And manie mystic lynks of fate,
He hafflyns could foresee.

Per, fer he raide. and fer hee gaed,
Owre mony hyll and daill,
Tyll passynge through the fayre Foreste,
Hee learnit ane waesome tale.

Whare Ettricke wandyrs downe ane playne,
Withe lofty hyllis belayit,
The staitly toweris of Thirlestane
Withe wondyr hee surveyit.

Black hung the bannyr onne the walle ;
The trumpit seetnit to grane ;
And reid, reid ranne the bonnye burne,
Whilke erste lyke syller shaene.

Atte first ane noyse, lyke fairie soundis,
Hee indistinctly hearde ;
Then countlesse, countlesse were the croudis
Whilke rounde the wain's appearit.

Thousandis of steidis stude onne the hyll,
Of sable trappyngis vayne ;
And rounde onne Ettrickis baittle haughis
Grewe no kin kynde of grayne.

Hee gazit, hee wonderit, sair hee fearit
Some recente tragedye ;
Atte lengthe hee spyit ane woeful wichte,
Gaun droopynge owre the ley.

Hys bearde wals sylverit owre withe eild ;
Pale wals hys cheike wae-worne ;
Hys hayre wals lyke the muirlande wylde
Onne a Decembyr morne.

" Haile, reverente brother !" Baldwyn saide,
" Here in this unco lande,
Ane Temple warrioure greetis thee weel,
And offers thee hys hande.

" O telle mee why the people mourne?

Sure all is notte forre guid ;
And why, why does the bonnye burn
Rin reid withe Chrystain bluid ?"

Aulde Beattie turnit and shuke hys heide,
While downe felle mony a teire ;
" O, wellcojne, wellcome, sire," hee saide,
" Ane waesome tale to heire :
" The guid Syr Robertis sonne and heir
By cruelle handis lyis slayne,
And all hys wyde domaynis so fayre
To ither Lordis are gane.

" Onne sic ane youthe als him they mourne
The sunne did never shyne, —
Insteade of Chyrstain bluid, the burne
Rinnis reid with Rhenis wyne.

" This is the sadde returnynge daie
Hee first behelde the lyght,—
This is the sadde returnynge daie
Hee felle by cruelle spyte.

" And onne this daie, withe pompe and pryde,
Hence you will see him borne,
And hys poor father home return,
Of landis and honouris shorne.

" Come to my littil chambyr stille,
In yonder turette low ;
We'll say our prayeris forre the dead,
And forre the livynge too.

" And when thou haste ane fre repaste
Of wheat bread and the wyne,
My tale shalle weite thy honeste cheikis,
Als oft it has done myne."