She heard a note in Elmond's-wood, And wish'd she there had been. She loot the seam fa' frae her side, And the needle to her tae; And she is on to Elmond-wood As fast as she could gae. She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but ane, Till by it came a young hind chiel, Says, "Lady, lat alane. "O why pu' ye the nut, the nut, Or why brake ye the tree? For I am forester o' this wood; Ye shou'd speer leave at me." (_hind chiel_, young stripling. _speer_, ask.) "I'll ask leave at no living man, Nor yet will I at thee; My father is king o'er a' this realm, This wood belongs to me." She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but three, Till by it came him Young Akin, And gar'd her lat them be. The highest tree in Elmond's-wood, He's pu'd it by the reet; And he has built for her a bower Near by a hollow seat. He's built a bower, made it secure Wi' carbuncle and stane; Tho' travellers were never sae nigh, Appearance it had nane. He's kept her there in Elmond's-wood, For six lang years and one; Till six pretty sons to him she bear, And the seventh she's brought home. It fell ance upon a day, This guid lord went from home; And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi' him his eldest son, And when they were on a guid way, Wi' slowly pace did walk, The boy's heart being something wae, He thus began to talk:-- "A question I wou'd ask, father, Gin ye wou'dna angry be?" "Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye'se na be quarrell'd by me." "I see my mithers cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither, To mourn continually." "Your mither was a king's daughter, Sprung frae a high degree; And she might hae wed some worthy prince, Had she na been stown by me. "I was her fathers cup-bearer, Just at that fatal time; I catch'd her on a misty night, When summer was in prime. "My love to her was most sincere, Her love was great for me; But when she hardships doth endure, Her folly she does see." "I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush, The linnet o' the tree, And bring them to my dear mither, See if she'll merrier be." It fell upo' another day, This guid lord he thought lang, And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi' him his dog and gun. Wi' bow and arrow by his side, He's off, single, alane; And left his seven children to stay Wi' their mither at hame. "O, I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be:" "Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye se na be quarrelled by me." "As we came frae the hind-hunting, We heard fine music ring:" "My blessings on you my bonny boy, I wish I'd been there my lane." He's ta en his mither by the hand, His six brithers also, And they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,