5
Unhappy lad, put up thy blade,
Tempt me no more I pray thee;
This sword that pierced the Squire so rude,
Soon in the dust shall lay thee.
Does it become so brave a knight?
Does blood so much affright thee?
Glengyle shall ne'er disgrace thy sword,
Unsheath it, then, and fight me,
Again with young Glengyle he closed,
Intending not to harm him,
Three times with gentlc wounds him pierced,
Yet never could disarm him.
Yield up your sword to me, Glengyle,
What on is our quarrel grounded?
I could have pierced thy dauntless heart,
Each time I have thee wounded.
But if thou thinkest me to kill,
In faith thou art mistaken,
So, if thou scorns to yield thy sword,
In pieces straight I'll break it.
While talking thus, he quit his guard,
Glengyle in haste advanced,
And pierced his generous, manly breast.
The sword behind him glanced.
Then down he fell, and cries, I'm slain!
Adieu to all things earthly;
Adieu, Glengyle, the day's thy own,
But thou hast gained it basely.
