6
But up spak’ cruel Claver’se then,
Wi’ hastie wit, an’ wicked skill;
“Gi’e fire on yon westlan’ men;
I think it is my sov’reign’s will."
But up bespake his cornet, then,
“It’s be wi’ nae consent o’ me!
I ken I’ll ne’er come back again,
An’ mony mae as weel as me.
“There is not ane of a’ yon men,
But wha is worthy other three;
There is na ane amang them a’,
That in his cause will stap to die.
“An’ as for Burly, him I knaw;
He’s a man of honour, birth, an’ fame;
Gi’e him a sword into his hand,
He’ll fight thysel’ an’ other ten."
But up spake wicked Claver’se then,
I wat his heart it raise fu’ hie!
And he has cry’d that a’ might hear,
“ Man, ye ha’e sair deceived me.
“I never ken’d the like afore,
Na, never since I came frae hame,
That you sae cowardly here suld prove,
An’ yet come of a noble Graeme.”
But up bespake his cornet, then,
“Since that it is your honour’s will,
Mysel’ shall be the foremost man,
