And now the fyer was lighted up, As hot as hot might bee; When riding upon a little white steed, The tinye boy they see. "Away with that stake, away with those brands, And loose our comelye queene: I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar, And prove him a traitor keene." Forthe then stood Sir Aldingar, But when he saw the chylde, He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe, And weened he had been beguylde. "Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, And eyther fighte or flee; I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, Thoughe I am so small to see." The boy pulld forth a well good sworde So gilt it dazzled the ee; The first stroke stricken at Aldingar, Smote off his leggs by the knee. "Stand up, stand up, thou false traitòr, And fight upon thy feete, For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st, Of height wee shall be meete." A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, While I am a man alive. A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, Me for to houzle and shrive. I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, Bot shee wolde never consent; Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame: I tooke the lazar upon my backe, And on her bedd had him layne. Then ranne I to our comlye king, These tidings sore to tell. But ever alacke! sayes Aldingar, Falsing never doth well. Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, The short time I must live. "Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, As freely I forgive." Here take thy queene, our king Harryè, And love her as thy life, For never had a king in Christentye. A truer and fairer wife. King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, And loosed her full sone: Then turned to look for the tinye boye; --The boye was vanisht and gone. But first he had touched the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand: The lazar under the gallowes tree All whole and sounde did stand. The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight and tall; King Henrye made him his head stewàrde To wayte withinn his hall. [Illustration] EDOM O' GORDON [Illustration] It fell about the Martinmas, Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, We maun draw till a hauld. And quhat a hauld sall we draw till, My mirry men and me? We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes, To see that fair ladie. The lady stude on her castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down: There she was ware of a host of men Cum ryding towards the toun. O see ze nat, my mirry men a'? O see za nat quhat I see? Methinks I see a host of men: I marveil quha they be. She weend it had been hir luvely lord, As he cam ryding hame; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.