He stood, winking his eye, on that battlement high, And was turning, poor Ida to wheedle, When the maiden, so spry, clapt her hand to his thigh, And thrust up to the hilt a sharp needle. XCI. With pain did he flush--gave a jump and a rush-- Lost his balance--strove hard to re-win it, When she gave him a push, and with terrible crush He was over the cliff in a minute! XCII. The sides of the hill he clutched at, until-- He found that he couldn’t quite come it, So at last had his fill, and, exhausted, lay still, Having rolled to the foot from the summit. XCIII. And {245}there did he lay, dying fast, in a way Which nobody willingly chooses; For the light of the day did his carcase display, A mass of incurable bruises. XCIV. Fowle’s soldiers stood o’er the poor man in his gore, Who groaned, “I must go to ‘Old Harry;’ ‘Tis a terrible bore! I shall soon be no more, And you, Fowle, the damsel will marry. XCV. “Lady Ida,” quoth he, “has been too much for me; Her will in rough fashion she teaches. One comfort will be, that Fowle, do you see, Will find that his dame ‘wears the breeches’! XCVI. “I am, I confess, in the deuce of a mess, With numbers of sins to repent of: There are some you may guess, but a lot more, unless I told you, you’d never get scent of. XCVII. “I’ve had wives a full score: aye, I think twenty-four, Who at times I’d by fraud or by force court: And I own that before I sought after more I ought to have tried the Divorce Court! XCVIII. “In a dungeon down-stairs you’ll find some of the ‘fairs:’ I hadn’t the heart to destroy ‘em; But, in spite of their prayers, if they gave themselves airs, Sent them down, in the dark to enjoy ‘em. XCIX. “My {246}soldiers are bold; they had better be told There’s nothing the fight should be won for: Their leader, though old, by a girl has been ‘sold,’ And is most undeniably ‘done for’!” C. He raised himself then, and bawled out to his men, “No reason, my hearties, to fight on: The crest of the Hen will float over my den-- Farewell to the Lord of Glenlighton!” CI. Then he gave a great groan (as the Baron had done If they’d tortured and made him a sore nail), And his side turning on, exclaimed, “Crikey! I’m gone And was instantly “dead as a door-nail”! CII. What need to relate how they opened the gate, And admitted Sir Fowle and his forces? How he entered in state, and showed clemency great, All this a mere matter of course is. CIII.