Then Gordon swarved[122] the main-mast tree, He swarved it with might and main; But Horseley with a bearing arrow, Stroke the Gordon through the brain; And he fell into the hatches again, And sore his deadly wound did bleed: Then word went through Sir Andrew's men, How that the Gordon he was dead. Come hither to me, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sister's son, If thou wilt let my beams down fall, Six hundred nobles thou hast won. With that he swarved the main-mast tree, He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arrow Pierced the Hambilton through the heart: And down he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did stream amain: Then every Scot cried, Well-away! Alas, a comely youth is slain! All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With grief and rage his heart did swell: Go fetch me forth my armour of proof, For I will to the topcastle mysel'. Go fetch me forth my armour of proof; That gilded is with gold so clear: God be with my brother John of Barton! Against the Portingalls he it ware: And when he had on this armour of proof, He was a gallant sight to see: Ah! ne'er didst thou meet with living wight, My dear brother, could cope with thee. Come hither Horseley, says my lord, And look your shaft that it go right, Shoot a good shot in time of need, And for it thou shalt be made a knight. I'll shoot my best, quoth Horseley then, Your honour shall see, with might and main; But if I was hanged at your main-mast, I have now left but arrows twain. Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then: Upon his breast did Horseley hit, But the arrow bounded back again. Then Horseley spied a privy place With a perfect eye in a secret part; Under the spole[123] of his right arm He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says, A little I'm hurt, but yet not slain; I'll but lie down and bleed awhile, And then I'll rise and fight again. Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says, And never flinch before the foe; And stand fast by St. Andrew's cross Until you hear my whistle blow. They never heard his whistle blow,---- Which made their hearts wax sore adread: Then Horseley said, Aboard, my lord, For well I wot, Sir Andrew's dead. They boarded then his noble ship, They boarded it with might and main; Eighteen score Scots alive they found, The rest were either maimed or slain.