XIX.

THE BALLAD OF THE TOURNAY.

In the castle of Kildrennie,
  Up in her chamber high,
There sat the fair Burde Annie,
  And with her County Guy—­
Come lately from the east,
  As far as Palestine,
Where he had sent to his long rest
  Many a bold Saracen.

Sir Guy his burning love hath told,
  And a favour he hath won,
For lo! a ring of virgin gold
  Shines there his finger on. 
And they have pledged the solemn yea,
  Each on the bended knee,
That on the coming Beltane day
  They two shall wedded be.

Burde Annie viewed, to hide her tears,
  The red sun setting still,
And lo! behold two cavaliers
  Came riding up the hill: 
The one he was Sir Hudibras
  Come of a noble clan;
The other no less noble was—­
  The brave Sir Gallachan.

The first bore on his shield outspread
  Two bones in cross moline,
And for his crest ane bluidy head,
  Erased from Saracen. 
The other carried, nobler far,
  All in a field of gold,
A flaming bolt of Jupiter,
  For crest ane tiger bold.

And up they rode, and up they rode,
  Till they came to the lawn
Which spread before the castle broad,
  And there they made a stand;
And there they spied Burde Annie
  Up in her chamber high,
But for the breadth of her bodie
  They could not see Sir Guy.

Burde Annie waved her lily hand,
  And threw a kiss a-down—­
For Hudibras or Gallachan
  Was meant the priceless boon? 
For sure it was a priceless boon,
  When neither could espy
That when she threw that kiss a-down
  She winkit to Sir Guy.

“That kiss divine, I trow, is mine,”
  Cried doughty Hudibras;
“I am the man,” cried Gallachan,
  “And sure thou art ane ass.” 
Such words to hear were ill to bear
  By any valiant knight;
And each drew forth his sword o’ weir,
  And stood prepared for fight.

They startit, they partit,
  Then on each other sprang;
They lungit, they plungit,
  Till all the welkin rang. 
They ogglit, they gogglit,
  Amidst the dread deray;
They chirnit, they girnit,
  Like bluidy beasts of prey.

They rattlit, they brattlit,
  Each cuirass upon;
They hackit, they thwackit,
  Each other’s morion. 
They reel it, they wheelit,
  And quick came round again;
They burstit, they thrust it,
  With all their might and main.

They smeekit, they reek it,
  Like to ane smouldering kiln;
They peghit, they sighit,
  Each other’s blood to spill,
They trampit, they stampit,
  Like animals run wud;
They flarit, they glarit,
  With eyne yred with bluid.

At length, to end the bluidy deeds,
  They raised their falchions keen,
And down upon each other’s heads
  They clove them to the chin. 
But ’tis not true, as I’ve heard tell,
  And I do not believe
That when these doughty lovers fell,
  One laughed within her sleeve.