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There he drew out a fair broad arrow,
His bow was great and long,
He set that arrow in his bow,
That was both stiff and strong.

He prayed the people that was there, That they would still stand, "For he that shooteth for such a

wager,

Behoveth a steadfast hand.”

Much people prayed for Cloudeslé,
That his life saved might be,
And when he made him ready to
shoot

There was many a weeping eye.

Thus Cloudeslé cleft the apple in two That many a man might see; "Over-gods forbode," then said the king,

"That thou should shoot at me!

"I give thee eighteen pence a day,
And my bow shalt thou bear,
And over all the north country
I make thee chief rider."

ANON.

THE HEIR OF LINNE.

PART THE FIRST.

LITHE and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song I will beginne:
It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
Which was the unthrifty heire of
Linne.

His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
But they, alas! were dead him froe,
And he lov'd keeping companie.

To spend the day with merry cheer,
To drink and revell every night,
To card and dice from eve to morn,
It was, I ween, his heart's delight.

To ride, to run, to rant, to roar,
To alway spend and never spare,
I wott, an' it were the king himself,
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.

So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne,
Till all his gold is gone and spent:
And he maun sell his landes so broad,
His house, and landes, and all his rent.

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