Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Maisry, 105 And she sware by the moon, That she saw not him, young Hunting, Sin' yesterday at noon. "He was playing him at the Clyde's water, Perhaps he has fa'en in:" 110 The king he call'd his divers all, To dive for his young son. They div'd in thro' the wan burn-bank, Sae did they out thro' the other: "We'll dive nae mair," said these young men, 115 "Suppose he were our brother." Then out it spake a little bird, That flew aboon their head: "Dive on, dive on, ye divers all, For there he lies indeed. 120 "But ye'll leave aff your day diving, And ye'll dive in the night; The pot where young Hunting lies in, The candles they'll burn bright. "There are twa ladies in yon bower, 125 And even in yon ha', And they ha'e kill'd him, young Hunting, And casten him awa'. "They booted him and spurred him, As he'd been gaun to ride; 130 A hunting horn tied round his neck, A sharp sword by his side. "The deepest pot o' Clyde's water, There they flang him in, Laid a turf on his breast bane, 135 To had young Hunting down." Now they left aff their day diving, And they dived on the night; The pot that young Hunting lay in, The candles were burning bright. 140 The king he call'd his hewers all, To hew down wood and thorn, For to put up a strong bale-fire, These ladies for to burn. And they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Katharine, 145 And they ha'e pitten her in; But it wadna light upon her cheek, Nor wou'd it on her chin, But sang the points o' her yellow hair, For healing the deadly sin. 150 Then they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Maisry, And they ha'e put her in: First it lighted on her cheek, And syne upon her chin, And sang the points o' her yellow hair, 155 And she burnt like keckle-pin. 65, And the. 66, And there. See 133, 134. YOUNG WATERS.--See p. 88. From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. p. 15. It fell about the gude Yule time, When caps and stoups gaed roun', Down it came him young Waters, To welcome James, our king. The great, the great, rade a' together, 5 The sma' came a' behin'; But wi' young Waters, that brave knight, There came a gay gatherin'. The horse young Waters rade upon, It cost him hunders nine; 10 For he was siller shod before, And gowd graith had behin'.