The first bore on his shield outspread Two bones in cross moline, And for his crest ane bluidy head, Erased from Saracen. The other carried, nobler far, All in a field of gold, A flaming bolt of Jupiter, For crest ane tiger bold. And up they rode, and up they rode, Till they came to the lawn Which spread before the castle broad, And there they made a stand; And there they spied Burde Annie Up in her chamber high, But for the breadth of her bodie They could not see Sir Guy. Burde Annie waved her lily hand, And threw a kiss a-down-- For Hudibras or Gallachan Was meant the priceless boon? For sure it was a priceless boon, When neither could espy That when she threw that kiss a-down She winkit to Sir Guy. "That kiss divine, I trow, is mine," Cried doughty Hudibras; "I am the man," cried Gallachan, "And sure thou art ane ass." Such words to hear were ill to bear By any valiant knight; And each drew forth his sword o' weir, And stood prepared for fight. They startit, they partit, Then on each other sprang; They lungit, they plungit, Till all the welkin rang. They ogglit, they gogglit, Amidst the dread deray; They chirnit, they girnit, Like bluidy beasts of prey. They rattlit, they brattlit, Each cuirass upon; They hackit, they thwackit, Each other's morion. They reel it, they wheelit, And quick came round again; They burstit, they thrust it, With all their might and main. They smeekit, they reek it, Like to ane smouldering kiln; They peghit, they sighit, Each other's blood to spill, They trampit, they stampit, Like animals run wud; They flarit, they glarit, With eyne yred with bluid. At length, to end the bluidy deeds, They raised their falchions keen, And down upon each other's heads They clove them to the chin. But 'tis not true, as I've heard tell, And I do not believe That when these doughty lovers fell, _One laughed within her sleeve_. But I have also heard it said, And I again it say, And I would like to see the head With tongue in't to say nay-- That as these pates lay on the ground (As there they yet may lie), _One eye in each cloved head was found Fixed on that chamber high_. XX. THE BALLAD OF GOLDEN COUNSEL. Come Mary and Martha, Jeanie and Jenny, And sit down and listen, baith ane and a', To me, wha may very weel be your grannie, And aiblins may ken ae thing or twa. This world is no so sweet and so bonnie As you in your young hearts may suppose; There's aloes in it as weel as honey, And aye some prickles on ilka rose. Young lasses I think are something like fillies Let out in a field to idle and eat, To graze by the gowans and drink by the willows, And never to dream of a bridle _a bit_. It's no what ye eat, it's no what you drink, dears, It's no your bonnets, or ribbons, or skirts, The trinkets ye wear, or the siller ye clink, dears-- There's something, I wean, far nearer your hearts.