ROBERT HENRYSON

Syne brak the hour, had hame the bricht

Unto her fadir fre. Sa evill wondit wes the Knycht

That he behuvit to de ; Unlusum was his likame dicht,

His sark was all bludy ; In all the world was thair a wicht

So peteouss for to se?

The Lady murnyt and maid grit mane,

With all her mekill mycht

• I luvit nevir lufe bot ane,

That dulfully now is dicht ; God sen my lyfe were fra me tane

Or I had seen yone sicht, Or ellis in begging evir to gane

Furth with yone curtass knycht.'

He said ' Fair lady, now mone I

De, trestly ye me trow ; Take ye my serk that is bludy,

And hing it forrow yow ; First think on it, and syne on me,

Quhen men cumis yow to wow/ The Lady said ' Be Mary fre,

��Quhen that scho lukit to the sark

Scho thocht on the persoun, And prayit for him with all hir hart

That lowsit hir of bandoun,

the bricht] the fair one. likame] body. lowsit hir of

bandoun] loosed her from thraldom.

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