King Harrye ran to claspe his queene, And loosed her full sone; 210 Then turnd to look for the tinye boye:-- The boye was vanisht and gone. But first he had touchd the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand; The lazar under the gallowes tree 215 All whole and sounde did stand. The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight, and tall; King Henrye made him his head stewarde, To wayte withinn his hall. 220 SIR HUGH LE BLOND. _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 51. "The tradition, upon which the ballad is founded, is universally current in the Mearns; and the Editor is informed, that, till very lately, the sword, with which Sir Hugh le Blond was believed to have defended the life and honour of the Queen, was carefully preserved by his descendants, the Viscounts of Arbuthnot. That Sir Hugh of Arbuthnot lived in the thirteenth century, is proved by his having, 1282, bestowed the patronage of the church of Garvoch upon the Monks of Aberbrothwick, for the safety of his soul.--_Register of Aberbrothwick, quoted by Crawford in Peerage._ "I was favoured with the following copy of _Sir Hugh le Blond_, by K. Williamson Burnet, Esq. of Monboddo, who wrote it down from the recitation of an old woman, long in the service of the Arbuthnot family. Of course, the diction is very much humbled, and it has, in all probability, undergone many corruptions; but its antiquity is indubitable, and the story, though indifferently told, is in itself interesting. It is believed that there have been many more verses." SCOTT. The birds sang sweet as ony bell, The world had not their make, The Queen she's gone to her chamber, With Rodingham to talk. "I love you well, my Queen, my dame, 5 'Bove land and rents so clear, And for the love of you, my Queen, Would thole pain most severe."-- "If well you love me, Rodingham, I'm sure so do I thee: 10 I love you well as any man, Save the King's fair bodye."-- "I love you well, my Queen, my dame; 'Tis truth that I do tell: And for to lye a night with you, 15 The salt seas I would sail."-- "Away, away, O Rodingham! You are both stark and stoor; Would you defile the King's own bed, And make his Queen a whore? 20 "To-morrow you'd be taken sure, And like a traitor slain; And I'd be burned at a stake, Although I be the Queen."-- He then stepp'd out at her room door, 25 All in an angry mood: Until he met a leper-man, Just by the hard way-side.