And he began to talk anon, Of good Earl Francis,* dead and gone, And of Earl Walter,+ rest him God! A braver ne'er to battle rode : And how, full many a tale he knew, Of the old warriors of Buccleuch ; And, would the noble Duchess deign Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He could make music to her ear. The humble boon was soon obtained; The Aged Minstrel audience gained. But, when he reached the room of state, * Francis Scott, Earl of Buccleuch, father of the Duchess. Walter, Earl of Buccleuch, grandfather of the Duchess, and a celebrated warrior. Perchance he wished his boon denied: His trembling hand had lost the ease, And scenes, long past, of joy and pain, The pitying Duchess praised its chime, Till every string's according glee And then, he said, he would full fain He never thought to sing again. It was not framed for village churles, But for high dames and mighty earls; He had played it to King Charles the Good, When he kept court in Holyrood; And much he wished, yet feared, to try The long forgotten melody. Amid the strings his fingers strayed, And an uncertain warbling made, And oft he shook his hoary head. But when he caught the measure wild, The old man raised his face, and smiled; And lightened up his faded eye, In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along : The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: The poet's glowing thought supplied; "Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung. THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO FIRST. I. THE feast was over in Branksome tower, And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower; Her bower, that was guarded by word and by spell, Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell— Jesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, Had dared to cross the threshold stone. B II. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Knight, and page, and household squire, Loitered through the lofty hall, Or crowded round the ample fire: And urged, in dreams, the forest race, III. Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Nine-and-twenty squires of name Brought them their steeds from bower to stall; Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall Waited, duteous, on them all; They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch. |