Chapter 39 of 112 · 48 words · ~1 min read

XXII.

To joyn his king adoun the hill In hast his merch he made, 170 While, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit[491] Afore him stately strade. "Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir,[492] Thy nations shield and pride; Thy king nae reason has to fear 175 When thou art by his side."