When this letter came Jonne untill, His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree; "Never was I sent for before any king, My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee. 20 "And if wee goe the king before, I would we went most orderly; Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak, Laced with silver laces three. "Every won of you shall have his velvett coat, 25 Laced with sillver lace so white; O the golden bands an about your necks, Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke." By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock, Towards Edenburough gon was hee, 30 And with him all his eight score men, Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see! When Jonne came befower the king, He fell downe on his knee; "O pardon my soveraine leige," he said, 35 "O pardon my eight score men and mee!" "Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong, For thy eight score men nor thee; For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock, Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow tree." 40 But Jonne looked over his left shoulder, Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee! Saying, "Asking grace of a graceles face-- Why there is none for you nor me." But Jonne had a bright sword by his side, 45 And it was made of the mettle so free, That had not the king stept his foot aside, He had smitten his head from his fair bodd['e]. Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all, And see that none of you be taine; 50 For rather then men shall say we were hanged, Let them report how we were slaine." Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose, And so besett poore Jonne [a] rounde, That fowerscore and tenn of Jonnes best men, 55 Lay gasping all upon the ground. Then like a mad man Jonne laide about, And like a mad man then fought hee, Untill a falce Scot came Jonne behinde, And runn him through the faire boddee. 60 Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all, And see that none of you be taine; For I will stand by and bleed but a while, And then will I come and fight againe." Newes then was brought to young Jonne Armestrong, 65 As he stood by his nurses knee, Who vowed if er'e he lived for to be a man, O th' the treacherous Scots reveng'd hee'd be. 11. syke. LOUDOUN CASTLE. (See p. 149.)