I'll borrow of them all by turns, So need I not be never bare.

But one, I wis, was not at home; Another had paid his gold away; Another called him thriftless loon, And bade him sharply wend his way.

Now well-a-day, said the heir of Linne, Now well-a-day, and woe is me; For when I had my lands so broad, On me they liv'd right merrily.

To beg my bread from door to door I wis, it were a burning shame: To rob and steal it were a sin: To work my limbs I cannot frame.

Now I'll away to lonesome lodge, For there my father bade me wend; When all the world should frown on me, I there should find a trusty friend.

PART THE SECOND.

Away then hied the heir of Linne O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen, Until he came to lonesome lodge, That stood so low in a lonely glen.

He looked up, he looked down, In hope some comfort for to win: But bare and loathly were the walls.

Here's sorry cheer, quo' the heir of Linne.

The little window dim and dark Was hung with ivy, brier, and yew; No shimmering sun here ever shone; No wholesome breeze here ever blew.

No chair nor table he mote spy, No cheerful hearth, no welcome bed, Nought save a rope with running noose That dangling hung up o'er his head.

And over it in broad letters, These words were written plain to see: "Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyself to penury?

"All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend: Let it now shield thy foul disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end."

Sorely shent[103] wi' this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heir of Linne; His heart, I wis, was near to burst With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.

Never a word spake the heir of Linne, Never a word he spake but three: This is a trusty friend indeed, And is right welcome unto me.

Then round his neck the cord he drew, And sprang aloft with his body: When lo! the ceiling burst in twain, And to the ground came tumbling he.

Astonished lay the heir of Linne, Nor knew if he were live or dead: At length he looked, and saw a bill,[104]

And in it a key of gold so red.

He took the bill, and looked it on, Straight good comfort found he there: It told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere.[105]

Two were full of the beaten gold, The third was full of white money; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plain to see:

"Once more, my son, I set thee clear; Amend thy life and follies past; For but thou amend thee of thy life, That rope must be thy end at last."

And let it be, said the heir of Linne; And let it be, but[106] if I amend: For here I will make my vow, This reade[107] shall guide me to the end.

Away then went with a merry cheer, Away then went the heir of Linne; I wis, he neither ceas'd nor blanne,[108]

Till John o' the Scales' house he did win.

And when he came to John o' the Scales, Up at the speere[109] then looked he; There sat three lords upon a row, Were drinking of the wine so free.

And John himself sat at the board-head, Because now lord of Linne was he.

I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales, One forty pence, for to lend me.

Away, away, thou thriftless loon; Away, away, this may not be; For Christ's curse on my head, he said, If ever I trust thee one pennie.

Then bespake the heir of Linne, To John o' the Scales' wife then spake he: Madame, some alms on me bestow, I pray for sweet saint Charity.

Away, away, thou thriftless loon, I swear thou gettest no alms of me; For if we should hang any losel[110] here, The first we would begin with thee.

Then bespake a good fellw, Which sat at John o' the Scales his board; Said, Turn again, thou heir of Linne; Some time thou wast a well good lord:

Some time a good fellow thou hast been, And sparedst not thy gold and fee; Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence, And other forty if need be.

And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, To let him sit in thy company: For well I wot thou hadst his land, And a good bargain it was to thee.

Up then spake him John o' the Scales, All wood[111] he answer'd him again: Now Christ's curse on my head, he said, But I did lose by that bargain.

And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne, Before these lords so fair and free, Thou shalt have it back again better cheap, By a hundred marks, than I had it of thee.

I draw you to record, lords, he said.

With that he cast him a G.o.ds-pennie: Now by my fay, said the heir of Linne, And here, good John, is thy money.

And he pull'd forth three bags of gold, And laid them down upon the board: All woe begone was John o' the Scales, So shent[112] he could say never a word.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HEIR OF LINNIE.]

He told him forth the good red gold, He told it forth with mickle din.

The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now again I'm the lord of Linne.

Says, Have thou here, thou good fellw, Forty pence thou didst lend me: Now I am again the lord of Linne, And forty pounds I will give thee.

I'll make thee keeper of my forest, Both of the wild deer and the tame; For but I reward thy bounteous heart, I wis, good fellow, I were to blame.

Now well-a-day! saith Joan o' the Scales: Now well-a-day! and woe is my life!

Yesterday I was lady of Linne, Now I'm but John o' the Scales his wife.

Now fare thee well, said the heir of Linne; Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said he: Christ's curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy.

FOOTNOTES:

[98] Attend.

[99] Earnest-money.

[100] Wood.

[101] Promised.

[102] May he thrive.

[103] Disgraced.