He looked east, he looked west, To see if any help was nigh; At length his little page he saw, Who to his lord aloud did cry. "Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear! What though the window's dreigh and hie? I'll catch you in my arms twa, And never a foot from you I'll flee." "How can I loup, you little page, How can I leave this window hie? Do you not see the blazing low, And my twa legs burnt to my knee?" * * * * * The eighteenth of October, A dismal tale to hear, How good Lord John and Rothiemay Was both burnt in the fire. When steeds was saddled and well bridled, 5 And ready for to ride, Then out it came her, false Frendraught, Inviting them to bide. Said,--"Stay this night untill we sup, The morn untill we dine; 10 'Twill be a token of good 'greement 'Twixt your good Lord and mine." "We'll turn again," said good Lord John;-- "But no," said Rothiemay,-- "My steed's trapan'd, my bridle's broken, 15 I fear the day I'm fey." When mass was sung, and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then good Lord John and Rothiemay In one chamber was laid. 20 They had not long cast off their cloaths, And were but now asleep, When the weary smoke began to rise, Likewise the scorching heat. "O waken, waken, Rothiemay! 25 O waken, brother dear! And turn you to our Saviour; There is strong treason here." When they were dressed in their cloaths, And ready for to boun, 30 The doors and windows was all secur'd, The roof-tree burning down. He did him to the wire-window, As fast as he could gang; Says,--"Wae to the hands put in the stancheons, 35 For out we'll never win." When he stood at the wire-window, Most doleful to be seen, He did espy her, Lady Frendraught, Who stood upon the green. 40 Cried,--"Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught! Will ye not sink with sin? For first your husband killed my father, And now you burn his son." O then out spoke her, Lady Frendraught, 45 And loudly did she cry,-- "It were great pity for good Lord John, But none for Rothiemay. But the keys are casten in the deep draw well, Ye cannot get away." 50 While he stood in this dreadful plight, Most piteous to be seen, There called out his servant Gordon, As he had frantic been.