‘I would have courted our comely Queene; To it shee wo’ld never consent; I thought to betray her to our King In a fyer to have her brent. XLVIII ‘There came a lame lazar to the King’s gate, A lazar both blind and lame; I took the lazar upon my back, Upon the Queene’s bedd had him layn. XLIX ‘I bade him, _Lye still, lazar_, where he lay, Looke he went not away; I wo’ld make him a whole man and a sound In two houres of a day. L ‘A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘To shrive me cleane of hell! Ever alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar, ‘Falsing never doth well. LI ‘Forgive, forgive me, Queene, Madam! For Christ’s love forgive me!’-- ‘God forgave his death, Aldingar, And freely I forgive thee.’-- LII ‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry, And love her as thou sho’ld; Thy wife shee is as true to thee As stone lies in castle wall.’ LIII The lazar under the gallow tree [Grew] a pretty man and small: The lazar under the gallow tree Was made steward in King Harry’s hall. FOOTNOTES: [55] brent = burnt. [56] lodly = loathly. [57] lome = thing. [58] bett = kindled. [59] swevens = dreams. [60] grype = gryphon. [61] tush = tusk, beak. [62] merlion = merlin, a small falcon. [63] bale = evil, trouble. [64] boote = help, remedy. [65] tunne = barrel. [66] wrought = recked. [67] fooder = tun. [68] meete = matched, equal. _5. Cospatrick_ I Cospatrick has sent o’er the faem: Cospatrick brought his ladye hame. II Full seven score ships have come her wi’, The ladye by the grene-wood tree. III There was twal’ and twal’ wi’ baken bread, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ the goud sae red: IV And twal’ and twal’ wi’ beer and wine, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ muskadine: V And twal’ and twal’ wi’ bouted[69] flour, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ paramour[70]. VI Sweet Willy was a Widow’s son, And at her stirrup he did run. VII And she was clad in the finest pall[71], But aye she let the tears down fall. VIII ‘O lady, sits your saddle awry? Or is your steed for you owre high? IX ‘Or are you mourning in your tide That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’ X ‘I am not mourning at this tide That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride: XI ‘But I am mourning in my mood That ever I left my mother good. XII ‘But, bonny boy, come tell to me What is the custom o’ your countrie?’ XIII ‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says, ‘Will ill a gentle ladye please. XIV ‘Seven King’s daughters has our lord wedded, And seven King’s daughters has our lord bedded: XV ‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane, And sent them mourning hame again. XVI