When James Swynard came that lady before, She let him see thro’ the weme[1130] of her ring How many there was of English lords To wayte[1131] there for his master and him. XXII ‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye, That walkes soe royallye on yond greene?’-- ‘Yond is Lord Hunsden, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘Alas, he’le doe you both tree and teene[1132]!’-- XXIII ‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes soe royallye him beside?’-- ‘Yond’s Sir William Drurye, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘And a keene captain he is, and tryde.’-- XXIV ‘How many miles is’t, thou good ladye, Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’-- ‘Marry, thrice fifty mile, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘And even to sayle and by the sea. XXV ‘I never was on English ground, Nor never see it with mine eye, But as my wit and wisedome serves, And as the booke it telleth mee. XXVI ‘My mother, she was a witch woman, And part of it she learnèd mee; She wo’ld let me see out of Lough Leven What they dyd in London citye.’-- XXVII ‘But who is yond, thou good ladye, Comes yonder with an osterne[1133] face?’ ‘Yond’s Sir John Forster, Jamye,’ she sayd; ‘Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.’ XXVIII He pulled his hat downe over his eyes, And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye! He is gone unto his master againe, And even to tell him the veretye. XXIX ‘Now hast thou beene with Mary,’ he sayd, ‘Even as thy tounge will tell to mee; But if thou trust any woman’s words, Thou must refraine good companye.’ XXX ‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes; ‘Yonder the men she lets me see, How many English lords there is Is wayting there for you and mee. XXXI ‘Yonder I see the Lord Hunsden, And he and you is of third degree[1134]; A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord, In England never a one have yee.’-- XXXII ‘And I have beene in Lough Leven The most part of these yeerès three: Yet had I never noe out-rake[1135], Nor good gamès that I co’ld see. XXXIII ‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting By William Douglas all trulye; Therfore speake never a word of thy mouth That thou thinkès will hinder me.’ XXXIV Then he writhe the gold ring of his fingar And gave it to that gay ladye; Sayes, ‘That was a legacye left unto mee In Harley woods where I co’ld bee.’-- XXXV ‘Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand, And ffarwell all good companye! That woman shall never beare a sonne Shall know soe much of your privitye.’-- XXXVI ‘Now hold thy tongue, ladye,’ he sayde, ‘And make not all this dole for me, For I may well drinke, but I’st never eate, Till ance againe in Lough Leven I bee.’ XXXVII