But when the Land-sergeant the water saw, ‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he; Then cried aloud--‘The prisoner take, But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’ XXXV ‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock, ‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be: My gude bay mare--for I am sure, She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’-- XXXVI Sae now they are on to Liddesdale, E’en as fast as they could them hie; The prisoner is brought to his ain fireside, And there o’ his airns they mak him free. XXXVII ‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo’ a’ the three, ‘The day is comed thou was to die; But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side, Now sitting, I think, ’twixt thee and me.’ FOOTNOTES: [1185] corn-caugers = corn hucksters. [1186] branks = wooden halter. [1187] brecham = straw collar. [1188] laigh = low. [1189] pa = paw. [1190] mese = soothe. [1191] billie = comrade. [1192] tolbooth = gaol. [1193] fie = fey, doomed. _139. Hobbie Noble_ I Foul fa’ the breast first treason bred in! That Liddesdale may safely say, For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay. II We were stout-hearted men and true, As England it did often say; But now we may turn our backs and fly, Since brave Noble is seld[1194] away. III Now Hobbie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale, But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish’d him to Liddesdale. IV At Kershope-foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains, With him a private companie. V Then Hobbie has graith’d[1195] his body weel, I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel; And he has pull’d out his fringed[1196] grey, And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel. VI Then Hobbie is down the water gane, Even as fast as he may drie; Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that riding-tryst he would not be. VII ‘Weel may ye be, my feiries[1197] five! And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’ Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent: ‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. VIII ‘Wilt thou with us into England ride? And thy safe-warrand we will be, If we get a horse worth a hundred punds, Upon his back that thou shalt be.’-- IX ‘I dare not with you into England ride, The Land-sergeant has me at feid[1198]; I know not what evil may betide For Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead. X ‘And Antony Shiel he loves not me, For I gat twa drifts of his sheep; The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not, For nae gear frae me he e’er could keep. XI