He looked up, he looked down, In hope some comfort for to win: But bare and loathly were the walls. Here's sorry cheer, quo' the heir of Linne. The little window dim and dark Was hung with ivy, brier, and yew; No shimmering sun here ever shone; No wholesome breeze here ever blew. No chair nor table he mote spy, No cheerful hearth, no welcome bed, Nought save a rope with running noose That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written plain to see: "Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyself to penury? "All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend: Let it now shield thy foul disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent[103] wi' this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heir of Linne; His heart, I wis, was near to burst With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin. Never a word spake the heir of Linne, Never a word he spake but three: This is a trusty friend indeed, And is right welcome unto me. Then round his neck the cord he drew, And sprang aloft with his body: When lo! the ceiling burst in twain, And to the ground came tumbling he. Astonished lay the heir of Linne, Nor knew if he were live or dead: At length he looked, and saw a bill,[104] And in it a key of gold so red. He took the bill, and looked it on, Straight good comfort found he there: It told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere.[105] Two were full of the beaten gold, The third was full of white money; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plain to see: "Once more, my son, I set thee clear; Amend thy life and follies past; For but thou amend thee of thy life, That rope must be thy end at last." And let it be, said the heir of Linne; And let it be, but[106] if I amend: For here I will make my vow, This reade[107] shall guide me to the end. Away then went with a merry cheer, Away then went the heir of Linne; I wis, he neither ceas'd nor blanne,[108] Till John o' the Scales' house he did win. And when he came to John o' the Scales, Up at the speere[109] then looked he; There sat three lords upon a row, Were drinking of the wine so free. And John himself sat at the board-head, Because now lord of Linne was he. I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales, One forty pence, for to lend me. Away, away, thou thriftless loon; Away, away, this may not be; For Christ's curse on my head, he said, If ever I trust thee one pennie. Then bespake the heir of Linne, To John o' the Scales' wife then spake he: Madame, some alms on me bestow, I pray for sweet saint Charity.