Ancient Scottish ballads, recovered from tradition, and never before ...

But in and cam her seventhen brother,
—
" I bear the hand that sail gar him dee."
Then out he drew a nut-brown sword,
I wat he stript it to the stroe, *
And thro' and thro' Clerk Saunder's body,
I wat he garr'd cauld iron go.
Then they lay there in ither's arms
Until the day began to daw;
Then kindly to him she did say,
—
"It's time, my dear, ye were awa.
Ye are the sleepiest young man," she said,
That ever my twa een did see,
Ye've lain a' nicht into my arms,
I'm sure it is a shame to be."
She turn'd the blankets to the foot,
And turn'd the sheets unto the wa',
And there she saw his bluidy wound,
Slroe—see note p. 238.