A collection of ancient and modern Scottish ballads, etc

11
" Go, little page, tell Hardyknute,
That lives on hill so hie.
To clraw his sword, the dried of faes.
And haste and follov/ me."
The little page flew swift as dart
Flung by his master's arm,
*' Cum down, cum down. Lord Hardyknute,
And red * zour King frae harm."
Then reid, reid grew his dark-brown eheiks,
Sae did his dark-brown brow;
His luiks grew kene as they were wont
In dangers great to do.
He has tane a horn as grene as grass.
And gien five sounds sae shrill.
That trees in grene-wood schuke thereat,
Sae loud rang ilka hill.
His sons, in manly sport and glie.
Had past that summer's morn,
Quhen low doun in a grassy dale.
They heard their fatheris horn.
*' That horn," quod they, " neir sounds in peace.
We haif other sport to byde ;"
And sune they heyd them up the hill.
And sune were at his syde.
" Late, late zestrene, I weind t in peace
To end my lengthened lyfe.
My age micht well excuse my arm
Frae manly feats of stryfe
But now that Norse dois proudly boast
Fair Scotland to inthrall,
Its neir be said of Hardyknute,
He feird to ficht or fall,
* Extricate. .
f
:
Thought.