But when he came to Giltnock-Hall, The Lady spy'd him presently; "What news, what news, thou little foot-page, What news from thy master, and his company?" "My news is bad, Lady," he said, 85 "Which I do bring, as you may see, My master Johnny Armstrong is slain, And all his gallant company. "Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny Grissel, Full oft thou hast been fed with corn and hay, 90 But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine, And thy sides shall be spurr'd no more, I say." O then bespake his little son, As he sat on his nurse's knee, "If ever I live to be a man, 95 My father's death reveng'd shall be." JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. From Ramsay's _Evergreen_, ii. 190. Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds, And sicklike men of hie degrie; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie. The King he wrytes a luving letter, 5 With his ain hand sae tenderly, And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang, To cum and speik with him speidily. The Elliots and Armstrangs did convene, They were a gallant company-- 10 "We'il ryde and meit our lawfull King, And bring him safe to Gilnockie. "Make kinnen and capon ready, then, And venison in great plenty; "We'il welcome hame our royal King; 15 I hope he'il dyne at Gilnockie!" They ran their horse on the Langholme howm,[L17] And brake their speirs with mekle main; The ladys lukit frae their loft windows-- "God bring our men weil back again!" 20 When Johny came before the King, With all his men so brave to see, The King he movit his bonnet to him; He wein'd he was a King as well as he. "May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 25 Grace for my loyal men and me? For my name it is Johny Armstrang, And subject of yours, my liege," said he. "Away, away, thou traytor strang! Out of my sicht sune mayst thou be![L30] 30 I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, And now I'll not begin with thee." "Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King! And a bonny gift I will give to thee-- Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids, 35 Were a' foald in a yeir to me. "I'll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids, That prance and nicher at a speir; With as mekle gude Inglis gilt, As four of their braid backs dow beir." 40 "Away, away, thou traytor strang! Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, And now I'll not begin with thee!"