He tooke his boate at the Lough Leven, For to sayle now over the sea, And he hath cast up a silver wand, Says, ‘Fare thou well, my good ladye!’ The ladye looked owre her left sholder; In a dead swoone there down fell she. XXXVIII ‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd, ‘And I will goe in thy companye; For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane, And ever, alas, she will but dye! XXXIX ‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good, Then blamèd sore that I shall bee, Because a banish’d man I am, And driven out of my owne countrye.’-- XL ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And all such talking let a-bee; There’s ladyes enow left in Lough Leven For to cheere yonder gay ladye.’ XLI ‘An you will not goe your selfe, my lord, You will lett my chamberlaine go with mee; We shall now take our boate againe, And soone wee shall overtake thee.’-- XLII ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And all this talking now let a-bee; For my sister is craftye enoughe For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’ XLIII When they had saylèd fifty myle, Now fifty myle upon the sea, Hee asked, ‘How ffarr is it to that shooting That William Douglas promised me?’-- XLIV ‘Now faire words makès foolès faine, And that may be seene by thy master and thee; For happen you’ll think it soone enoughe Whenever you that shooting see.’ XLV Jamye pulled his hat now over his browe, I wot the teares fell in his e’e; And he is to his master againe, And for to tell him the veretye. XLVI ‘He says fayre words makes foolès faine, And that may be seene by you and mee, For happen we’ll thinke it soone enoughe Whenever we that shooting see.’ XLVII ‘Hold upp thy head, Jamye,’ the Erle sayd, ‘And never let thy hart fayle thee; He did it but to prove thee with, And see how thow wo’ld take with death trulye.’ XLVIII When they had sayl’d other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, Lord Percye called to him, himselfe, Sayd, ‘Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee?’ XLIX ‘Looke that your brydle be wight[1136], my lord, That you may goe as a shipp at sea; Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, That you may pricke her while she’le awaye.’ L ‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth, ‘That thou needest to ffloutè mee? For I was counted a horsseman good Before that ever I met with thee. LI ‘A ffalsè Hector hath my horsse, And ever an evill death may hee dye! And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres And all the geere belongs to mee.’ LII When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, They landed low by Berwicke-side; [Soe Douglas betray’d the] Lord Percye. FOOTNOTES: