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In armour sheath'd from top to toe, Appear'd, and craved the combat due. The dame her charm successful knew, And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew.
Of that sly urchin page;
A knight from Hermitage:
For all the vassalage : Pat, O! wbat magic's quaint disguise Could blind fair Margaret's azure eges!
She started from her seat ; While with surprise and fear she strove, And both could scarcely master love
Lord Henry's at hier feet.
To bring this meeting round;
In such po joy is found :
Sorrow, and sin, and shame:
Disgrace, and loss of fame.
Wbose vishes, soon as granted, fly;
Wich dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind. Sow leave we Margaret and her knight, To tell you of the approaching fight.
xvi. When for the lists they sought the plain, The stately Ladye's silken rein
Did noble Howard hold;
Of feats of arms of old.
With satin slash'd and lined;
That none, while lasts the strife,
On peril of his life;
The pipe's shrill port aroused each clan; lo haste, the deadly strife to view,
The trooping warriors eager ran:
XV. Meantime full anxious was the dame; For now arose disputed claim, Of who should fight for Deloraine, Twixt Harden and 'twixt Thirlestane ; Thary 'gan to reckon kin and rent, And frowning brow on brow was bent;
But yet not long the strife--for, lo! Himself, the Knight of Deloraine, Strong, as it seem'd, and free from pain,
Good knight and true, and freely born,
& martial piece of music adapted to the bagpipes.
See p. 12, Stanza 23.
Amends from Deloraine to crave,
For foul despiteous scathe and scorn. He sayeth that William of Deloraine
Is traitor false by Border laws;
So help him God, and his good cause !
And still the crucifix on high
Suill props him from the bloody sod,
And bids him trust in God! Unheard he prays;-the death-pang's o'er!Richard of Musgrave breathes no more.
And that, so help him God above,
He will on Musgrave's body prove,
---«God defend the right!» Then, Teviot! how thine echoes rang When bugle-sound and trumpet-clang
Let loose the martial foes,
The combatants did close.
The silent victor stands;
Of gratulating hands.
Among the Scottish bands;
As dizzy, and in pain ;
Knew William of Deloraine!
« And who art thou,» they cried, « Who hast this battle fought and won ?» His plumed helm was soon undone -
« Cranstoun of Teviot side! For this fair prize I've fought and won,» And to the Ladye led her son.
XXI. Ill would it suit your gentle ear, Ye lovely listeners, to hear How to the axe the helms did sound, And blood pour d down from many a wound; For desperate was the strife and long, And either warrior fierce and strong. But, were each dame a listening knight, I well could tell how warriors fight; For I have seen war's lightning flashing, Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing, Seen through red blood the war-horse dashing, And scorn'd, amid the reeling strife, To yield a step for death or life.
XXII. "T is done, 't is done! that fatal blow
Has stretch'd him on the bloody plain ; He strives to rise--Brave Musgrave, no!
Thence never shalt thou r He chokes in blood-some friendly hand Undo the visor's barred band, Unfix the gorget's iron clasp, And give him room for life lo gasp;o, bootless aid!-haste, holy friar, Haste, ere the sinner shall expire! Of all his guilt let him be shriven, And smooth his path from earth to heaven!
Full oft the rescued boy she kiss'd,
--For Howard was a generous foeAnd how the clan united pray'd,
The Ladye would the feud forego, And deign to bless the nuptial bour Of Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower
As through the lists he ran;
He raised the dying man; Loose waved his silver beard and hair, As o'er him he kneeld down in prayer ;
Thought on the Spirits' prophecy,
« Not you, but Fate, has vanquish'd me; Their intluence kindly stars may shower On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower,
For pride is quelld, and love is free.» She took fair Margaret by the hand, Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand,
That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she-« As I am true to thee and thine, Do thou be true to me and mine!
This clasp of love our bond shall be, For this is your betrothing-day, And all these noble lords shall stay,
To grace it with their company.»
XXVII. All as they left the listed plain, Nach of the story she did gain; How Cranstoun fought with Deloraine, And of his page, and of the book Which from the wounded knight he took; And how he sought her castle high, That morn, by help of gramarye ; How, in Sir William's armour dight, Stolen by his page, while slept the knight, He took on him the single fight. But half his tale he left unsaid, And linger'd till he join'd the maid. — Cared not the Ladye to betray Her mystic arts in view of day; But well she thought, ere midnight came, Of that strange page the pride to tame, From his foul hands the book to save, And send it back to Michael's grave.Seeds not to tell each tender word Twist Margaret and 'twixt Cranstoun's lord; Sor how she told of former woes, And how her bosom fell and rose, While he and Musgrave bandied blows. . Needs not these lovers joys to tell; One day, fair maids, you 'll know them well.
For, if I slew thy brother dear,
Thou siew'st a sister's son to me; And when I lay in dungeon dark,
Of Naworth Castle, long months three, Till ransom'd for a thousand mark,
Dark Musgrave, it was long of thee. And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried,
And thou wert now alive, as I, No mortal man should us divide,
Till one, or both of us, did die: Yet rest thee, God! for well I know I ne'er shall find a nobler foe. In all the northern counties here, Whose word is, snaffle, spur, and spear, Thou wert the best to follow gear. 'T was pleasure, as we look'd behind, To see how thou thc chase couldst wind, Cheer the dark blood-bound on his way, And with the bugle rouse the fray; (8) I'd give the lands of Deloraine, Dark Musgrave were alive again.»—
So mourn'd he, till Lord Dacre's band
And taught that, in the listed plain,
Cnder the name of Deloraine.
He greeted him right heartilie:
Though rude, and scant of courtesy;
When on dead Musgrave he look'd down; Grief darken'd on his rugged brow,
Though half disguised with a frown; And thus, wlule sorrow bent his head, His foeman's epitaphi he made.
Tue harp's wild notes, though hush'd the song, The mimic march of death prolong. Now seems it far, and now a-near, Now meets, and now eludes the ear; Now seems some mountain side to sweep, Now faintly dies in valley deep; Seems now as if the minstrel's wail, Now the sad requiem, loads the gale; Last, o'er the warrior's closing grave, Rung the full choir in choral stave.
XXIX. Now, Richard Musgrave, liest thou here! I ween, my deadly enemy;
The spectral apparition of a living person.
Liked not to hear it rank'd so high
· The splendour of the spousal rite, How muster'd in the chapel fair
Both maid and matron, squire and knight; Me lists not tell of owcbes rare, Of mandles green, and braided hair, . . And kirtles furr'd with miniver; What plumage waved the altar round, How spurs and ringing chaiplets sound : And hard it were for bård to speak The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek, That lovely hue which comes and flies, As awe and shame alternate rise.
This is my own, my native land!
From wandering on a foreign strand ?
Some bards have sung, the Ladye high
The Ladye by the altar stood,
And on her head a crimson hood, With pearls embroider'd and entwined, Guarded with gold, with ermine lined; A merlin sat upon her wrist, (3) Held by a leash of silken twist.
O Caledonia! stern and wild,
VI. The spousal rites were ended soon; 'T was now the merry hour of noon, And in the lofty arched hall. Was spread the gorgeous festival. Steward and squire, with heedful haste, Marshallid the rank of every guest; Pages, with ready blade, were there, The mighty meal to carve and share : O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane, And princely peacock's gilded train, (4) And o'er the boar-head, garnish'd brave, (5) And cygnet from St Mary's wave, (6) O'er ptarmigan and venison, The priest had spoke his benison, Then rose the riot and the din, Above, beneath, without, within! For, from the lofty balcony, Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery; Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffd, Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh'd; Whisper'd young knights, in tone more mild, To ladies Fair, and ladies smiled. The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam, The clamour join'd with whistling scream, And tlapp'd their wings, and shook their bells. In concert with the stag-hounds' yells. Round go the flasks of ruddy wine, From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine; Their tasks the busy sewers ply, And all is mirth and revelry.
The startled yeoman swore and spurn'd,
VII. The goblin-page, omitting still to opportunity of ill, strove bow, while blood ran hot and high, rouse debate and jealousy;
Courad, lord of Wolfenstein, Ar mature fierre, and warm with wine, bad bow in humour highly cross'd, About some steeds his band had lost, high words to words succeeding still, Smole, with his gauntler, stout Hunthill; 6) A hot and hardy Rutherford, il bon men call Diccon Draw-the-sword. He took it on the page's saye, Banthill had driven these steeds away. Thea Howard, Home, and Douglas rose, The kiodling discord to compose : Stera Ratherford right litde said, Bat bir his glove, and shook his head.-(8) A fortnight thence, in Inglewood, Slout Conrad, cold, and drench'd in blood, His bosom gored with many a wound, Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found; Cakpovo the manner of bis death, Code was his brand, both sword and sheath; Put ever from that time, 't was said, That Diccoo wore a Cologne blade.
X. By this, the dame, lest farther fray Should mar the concord of the day, Had bid the minstrels tune their lay. And first stept forth old Albert Grame, The minstrel of that ancient name: (m) Was none who struck the harp so well, Within the Land Debateable; Well-friended too, his hardy kin, Whoever lost, were sure to win;. They sought the beeves that made their broth In Scotland and in England both. Io homely guise, as nature bade, . His simple song the Borderer said..
VJÚ. The Dwarf, who feard his master's eye flight his foul treachery espie, bor sought the castle buttery, Where many a geoman bold and free, Levelled as merrily and well As those that sat in lordly selle.
att Tinlion, there, did frankly raise The pledge to Arthur Fire-the-Braes; (9) And le, as by his breeding bound, lo Howard's merry-men sent it round. le quit them, on the English side, Bed Roland Forster loudly cried, A drep carouse to yon fair bride!» di every pledge, from val and pail, Feam'd forth, in floods, the pu:-brown ale; While shout the riders every one, Such day of mirth ne'er cheer'd their clan, Since old Buccleuch the name did gain, When in the eleuch the buck was ta'en. (10)
Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.
For, she had lands, both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all!
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell,
For Love was still the lord of all.
He pierced her brother to the heart,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, So perish all would true love part,
That Love may still be lord of all!
The wily page, with vengeful thought,
Remember'd him of Tinlinn's yew, Aed swore, it should be dearly bought,
That ever he the arrow drew. First, be the yeoman did molest, With bitter gibe and taunting jest; Told, how he fled at Solway strife, And how llob Armstrong cheer'd his wife : Then, shunning still his powerful arm, Al unawares he wrought him harm; From trencber stole his choicest cheer, Dash'd from his lips his can of beer; Then to his knee sly creeping on, With bodkin pierced him to the bone; The venom'd wound, and festering joint, Long after rued the bodkin's point.
And then he took the cross divine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And he died for her sake in Palestine,
So Love was still the lord of all. .
Now all you lovers, that faithful prove,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) Pray for their souls who died for love,
For Love shall still be lord of all!