5
Unhappy lad, put up thy blade,
tempt me no more I pray thee:
This sword that peirced the squire so rude,
soon in the dust will lay thee.
Does it become so brave a Knight,
Does blood so much affright thee?
Glengyle will ne'er disgrace thy sword,
unsheath it then and fight me.
Again with young Glengyle he closed,
intending not to harm him,
Three times with gentle wounds him peirced
yet never could disarm him.
Yield up your sword to me Glengyle,
What on is our quarrel grounded?
I could have pierced thy dauntles heart,
each time I have the wounded;
But if thou thinkest me to kill,
in faith thou art mistaken,
So if thou scorn to yield thy sword,
in pieces straight I‘ll break it.
While talking thus he quit his guard,
Glengyle in haste advanced,
And pierc‘d his generous manly breast,
the spear behind him glanc‘d!
Then down he fell and cries I'm slain!
Adieu to all things earthly,
