"Where did ye get those tassels, Johnie, that shine so bravely above your brow?" "I got them fighting in the field where thou darest not be," replied Johnie. "And had I now my horse and good harness, and were I riding as I am used to do, this meeting between us should have been told these hundred years. God be with thee, my brother Christy, long shalt thou live Laird of Mangertown on the Border-side ere thou see thy brother ride by again. God be with _thee_, my son Christy, where thou sitst on thy nurse’s knee; thou’lt ne’er be a better man than thy father, though thou live a hundred years. Farewell, bonnie Hall of Gilnockie, standing strong on Eskside; if I had lived but seven more years, I would have gilded thee round about." Then Johnie Armstrong was slain by the King’s orders at Carlinrigg with all his gallant company, and Scotland’s heart was sad to see the death of so many brave men, who had saved their country from the Englishmen. None were so brave as they, and while Johnie lived on the Border-side no Englishman durst come near his stronghold. *Chapter XXIV* *The Lament of the Border Widow* How King James V. of Scotland, in 1529, set forth to strike terror into the Border freebooters, has been already told in the account of Johnie Armstrong. A less celebrated moss-trooper, Cockburne of Henderland, was hanged by the pitiless King over the gate of his own tower. The wife of Cockburne loved him most dearly, and when she found the King would show no mercy, fled away to the rocks behind the castle whilst the cruel sentence was carried out. She sat by a roaring torrent of the Henderland burn, the noise of which in her ears drowned the savage shouts of the King’s soldiers. The beautiful song which describes the grief of this loving woman is one of the gems of ancient poetry, and is here printed entire. *THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW* My love he built me a bonny bower, And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flower, A brawer bower ye ne’er did see, Than my true love he built for me. There came a man by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away; And brought the King that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. He slew my knight to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and took his gear; My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie. I sew’d his sheet, making my moan; I watch’d the corpse, myself alone; I watch’d his body, night and day; No living creature came that way. I took his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; I digg’d a grave, and laid him in, And happ’d him with the sod sae green. But think na ye my heart was sair, When I laid the moul’ on his yellow hair; O think na ye my heart was wae, When I turn’d about, away to gae?