Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with might and maine; But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, 75 Stroke the Gordon through the braine; And he fell unto the haches again, And sore his deadlye wounde did bleede: Then word went through Sir Andrews men, How that the Gordon hee was dead. 80 "Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sisters sonne; If thou wilt let my beames downe fall, Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne."[L84] With that he swarved the main-mast tree, 85 He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arrowe Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart. And downe he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did streame amaine: 90 Then every Scott cryed, "Well-away! Alas a comelye youth is slaine!" All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With griefe and rage his heart did swell; "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, 95 For I will to the topcastle mysell. "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe, That gilded is with gold soe cleare; God be with my brother John of Barton! Against the Portingalls hee it ware. 100 And when he had on this armour of proofe, He was a gallant sight to see; Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, My deere brothèr, could cope with thee." "Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord, 105 "And looke your shaft that itt goe right; Shoot a good shoote in time of need, And for it thou shalt be made a knight." "Ile shoot my best," quoth Horseley then, 109 "Your honour shall see, with might and maine; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, I have now left but arrowes twaine." Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then, Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, 115 But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place, With a perfect eye, in a secrette part; Under the spole of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 120 "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,[L121] "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; Ile but lye downe and bleede a while, And then Ile rise and fight againe. Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, 125 "And never flinche before the foe; And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse, Untill you heare my whistle blowe."