( 5 )
He looked up, he looked down,
in hope some comfort for to win:
But bare and lothly were the walls,
'Here's sorry cheer' quo' the Heir on Linne.
The little window, dim and dark,
was hung with ivy, brier and yew;
Nae simmer sun here ever shone,
nae halesome breeze here ever blew.
Nae chair, nae table could he spy,
nae cheerful hearth, nae welcome bed,
Nought but a rope wi' rinning noose,
that dangling hung up o'er his head.
And o'er it in broad letters
these words were wrote so plain to see: -
Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all
and brought thyself to penurie?
All this my boding mind misgave
I therefore left this trusty friend;
Let it now shield thy foul disgrace,
and all thy shame and sorrows end.
Exceeding vext wi' this rebuke,
exceeding vext was the Heir of Linne,
His heart I wot was near to burst
with guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.
Never a word spake the Heir of Linne,
never a word but these spake he:
'This a is trusty friend indeed,
'and is right welcome unto me.'
Then round his neck the cord he drew,
