3
⟨To⟩ meet on the shore where the loud waves roar,
In a challenge he defied him,
⟨Ere⟩ the sun was up, these young men met,
No living creature nigh them.
⟨What⟩ ails, what ails my dearest friend?
Why want ye to destroy me;
⟨I⟩ want no flattery, base Sir Neil,
But draw your sword and try me.
⟨Why⟩ should I fight with you, M'Van,
You ne'er have me offended;
⟨And⟩ if I aught to you have done,
I'll own my fault, and mend it?
⟨Is⟩ this your boasted courage, knave?
Who would not now despise thee?
⟨But⟩ if thou still refuse to fight,
I'll like a dog chastise thee.
⟨Forbear⟩, fond fool, tempt not thy fate,
Presume not now to strike me,
⟨There's⟩ not a man in all Scotland
Can wield the broad-sword like me.
⟨Combined⟩ with guilt thy wond'rous skill
From fate shall not defend thee,
⟨My⟩ sister's wrongs shall brace my arms,
This stroke to death shall send thee.
⟨But ⟩this, and many a well aimed blow,
The generous Baron warded,
⟨Being⟩ loath to harm so dear a friend,
Himself he only guarded.
