The heir of Linne is full of gold:

And come with me, my friends, said he, Let's drink, and rant, and merry make,

And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.*

They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thin;

And then his friends they slunk away;
They left the unthrifty heir of Linne.

He had never a penny left in his purse,
Never a penny left but three,

And one was brass, another was lead,
And another it was white monèy.

Now well-a-day, said the heir of Linne,
Now well-a-day, and woe is me,

For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.

But many a trusty friend have I,

And why should I feel grief or care?

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.

WAY 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 lettèrs,

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 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,*
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.t

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."

* Writing.

+ Together.