“Why trespass ye on the English side? 
  Row-footed outlaws, stand!” quo’ he;
  The never a word had Dickie to say,
  Sae he thrust the lance thro’ his fause bodie.

  Then on we held for Carlisle toun,
  And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross’d;
  The water was great and meikle of spait,
  But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.

  And when we reached the Staneshaw-bank,
  The wind was rising loud and hie;
  And there the laird garr’d leave our steeds,
  For fear that they should stamp and nie.

  And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
  The wind began full loud to blaw;
  But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
  When we came beneath the castle wa’.

  We crept on knees, and held our breath,
  Till we placed the ladders against the wa’;
  And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell
  To mount the first, before us a’.

  He has ta’en the watchman by the throat,
  He flung him down upon the lead—­
  “Had there not been peace between our land,
  Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!—­

“Now sound out, trumpets!” quo’ Buccleuch; “Let’s waken Lord Scroop, right merrilie!” Then loud the warden’s trumpet blew—­ “O whae dare meddle wi’ me?"[167]

  Then speedilie to work we gaed,
  And raised the slogan ane and a’. 
  And cut a hole thro’ a sheet of lead,
  And so we wan to the castle ha’.

  They thought King James and a’ his men
  Had won the house wi’ bow and spear;
  It was but twenty Scots and ten,
  That put a thousand in sic a stear![168]

  Wi’ coulters and wi’ fore-hammers,
  We garr’d the bars bang merrilie,
  Untill we cam to the inner prison,
  Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie.

  And when we cam to the lower prison,
  Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie—­
  “O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,
  Upon the morn that thou’s to die?”

  “O I sleep saft,[169] and I wake aft;
  Its lang since sleeping was fleyed[170] frae me! 
  Gie my service back to my wife and bairns,
  And a’ gude fellows that speer for me.”

  Then Red Rowan has hente him up,
  The starkest man in Teviotdale—­
  “Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
  Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

  “Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! 
  My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!” he cried—­
  “I’ll pay you for my lodging maill,[171]
  When first we meet on the border side.”

  Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
  We bore him down the ladder lang;
  At every stride Red Rowan made,
  I wot the Kinmont’s aims played clang!

  “O mony a time,” quo’ Kinmont Willie,
  “I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
  But a rougher beast than Red Rowan,
  I ween my legs have ne’er bestrode.

  “And mony a time,” quo’ Kinmont Willie,
  “I’ve pricked a horse out oure the furs;[172]
  But since the day I backed a steed,
  I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!”