And when he came to Vyet's castle, He did not knock nor call, 50 But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leaped the wall; And ere the porter open'd the gate, The boy was in the hall. The first line that Childe Vyet read, 55 A grieved man was he; The next line that he looked on, A tear blinded his e'e. "What ails my own brother," he says, "He'll not let my love be; 60 But I'll send to my brother's bridal; The woman shall be free. "Take four and twenty bucks and ewes, And ten tun of the wine, And bid my love be blythe and glad, 65 And I will follow syne." There was not a groom about that castle, But got a gown of green; And a' was blythe, and a' was glad, But Lady Maiserey was wi' wean.[L70] 70 There was no cook about the kitchen, But got a gown of gray; And a' was blythe, and a' was glad, But Lady Maiserey was wae. 'Tween Mary Kirk and that castle, 75 Was all spread o'er with garl,[L76] To keep the lady and her maidens, From tramping on the marl.[L78] From Mary Kirk to that castle, Was spread a cloth of gold, 80 To keep the lady and her maidens, From treading on the mould. When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maiserey, 85 In one bed they were laid. When they were laid upon their bed, It was baith soft and warm, He laid his hand over her side, Says he, "you are with bairn." 90 "I told you once, so did I twice, When ye came as my wooer, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bower. "I told you twice, so did I thrice, 95 Ere ye came me to wed, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bed!" "O will you father your bairn on me, And on no other man? 100 And I'll gie him to his dowry, Full fifty ploughs of land." "I will not father my bairn on you, Nor on no wrongous man, Tho' you'd gie him to his dowry, 105 Five thousand ploughs of land." Then up did start him Childe Vyet, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Lord Ingram to the heart, A deep wound and a sair. 110 Then up did start him Lord Ingram, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Childe Vyet to the heart, A deep wound and a sair.