They owed the conquest to his arm, And then his liege-lord said, « The heart that has for honour beat, By bliss must be repaid,— My daughter Isabel and thou Shall be a wedded pair, For thou art bravest of the brave, She fairest of the fair.»> And then they bound the holy knot Before Saint Mary's shrine, That makes a paradise on earth, If hearts and hands combine; And every lord and lady bright, That were in chapel there, Cried, «Honour'd be the bravest knight, Beloved the fairest fair!» THE TROUBADOUR. GLOWING with love, on fire for fame, My heart is in my true love's bower; Befits the gallant Troubadour.» And while he march'd with helm on head « My arm it is my country's right, E'en when the battle-roar was deep, « My life it is my country's right, My heart is in my lady's bower; For love to die, for fame to fight, Though thus he dealt in petty treason, And Folly brought to bed of Pleasure. SONG, FOR THE ANNIVERSARY MEETING OF THE PITT CLUB OF O DREAD was the time, and more dreadful the omen, O then in her triumph remember his merit, And hallow the goblet that flows to his name. Round the husbandman's head, while he traces the furrow, The mists of the winter may mingle with rain, He may plough it with labour, and sow it in sorrow, And sigh while he fears he has sow'd it in vain ; He may die ere his children shall reap in their gladness, But the blithe harvest-home shall remember his claim, And their jubilee-shout shall be soften'd with sadness, While they hallow the goblet that flows to his name. Though anxious and timeless his life was expended, Nor forget His gray head, who, all dark in affliction, Yet again fill the wine-cup, and change the sad measure, SONG, ON THE LIFTING OF THE BANNER OF THE HOUSE OF BUCCLEUGH, At a great Foot-ball Match on Carterhaugh. FROM the brown crest of Newark its summons extending, Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame; And each forester blithe, from his mountain descending, Bounds light o'er the heather to join in the game. CHORUS. Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her, She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more; In sport we'll attend her, in battle defend her, With heart and with hand, like our fathers before. When the southern invader spread waste and disorder, At the glance of her crescents he paused and withdrew, For around them were marshall'd the pride of the Border, The Flowers of the Forest, the Bands of BUCCLEUGH. Then up with the Banner, etc. A stripling's weak hand to our revel has borne her, We forget each contention of civil dissension, Then up with the Banner, etc. Then strip, lads, and to it, though sharp be the weather, And if, by mischance, you should happen to fall, There are worse things in life than a tumble on heather, And life is itself but a game at foot-ball. Then up with the Banner, etc. And when it is over, we 'll drink a blithe measure To each laird and each lady that witness'd our fun, And to every blithe heart that took part in our pleasure, To the lads that have lost and the lads that have won. Then up with the Banner, etc. May the Forest still flourish, both Borough and Landward, From the hall of the peer to the herd's ingle-nook; And huzza! my brave hearts, for BUCCLEUGH and his standard, For the King and the Country, the Clan and the Duke! Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her, She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more; In sport we'll attend her, in battle defend her, With heart and with hand, like our fathers before. IMPROMPTU. TO MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE. Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good THE END. |