The first an' stroke the knight he strake, 65 Gae Colvin a slight wound; The next an' stroke Lord Colvin strake, Brought's foe unto the ground.
"I yield, I yield," the knight he said, "I fairly yield to thee; 70 Nae ane came e'er to Elrick-hill E'er gain'd such victorie.
"I and my forbears here did haunt Three hundred years and more; I'm safe to swear a solemn oath, 75 We were never beat before."
"An asking," said the lady gay, "An asking ye'll grant me:" "Ask on, ask on," said Sir Colvin, "What may your asking be?" 80
"Ye'll gie me hame my wounded knight, Let me fare on my way; And I'se ne'er be seen on Elrick's hill, By night, nor yet by day; And to this place we'll come nae mair, 85 Cou'd we win safe away;
"To trouble any Christian one Lives in the righteous law, We'll come nae mair unto this place, Cou'd we win safe awa'." 90
"O ye'se get hame your wounded knight, Ye shall not gang alane; But I maun hae a wad o' him, Before that we twa twine."
Sir Colvin being a book-learn'd man, 95 Sae gude in fencing tee, He's drawn a stroke behind his hand, And followed in speedilie.
Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn, And followed in speedilie, 100 The knight's brand and sword hand In the air he gar'd them flee.
It flew sae high into the sky, And lighted on the ground; The rings that were on these fingers 105 Were worth five hundred pound.
Up he has ta'en that bluidy hand, Set it before the king; And the morn it was Wednesday, When he married his daughter Jean. 110
Translated in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 103, from Syv's _Kj[oe]mpe Viser_. See another copy in Nyerup's _Danske Viser_, iv. 59.
The reivers they wad a stealing gang, To steal sae far frae hame; And stown ha'e they the king's daughter, Fair Annie hight by name.
They've carried her into fremmit lands, 5 To a duke's son of high degree; And he has gie'n for Fair Annie Mickle goud and white money.
And eight lang years o' love sae leal Had past atween them twae; 10 And now a bonny bairntime O' seven fair sons had they.
That lord he was of Meckelborg land, Of princely blood and stemme; And for his worth and curtesy 15 That lord a king became.
But little wist that noble king, As little his barons bald, That it was the king of England's daughter, Had sae to him been sald! 20