THE Poem is intended to illustrate the customs and manners which anciently prevailed on the Borders of England and Scotland. The inhabitants, living in a state partly pastoral and partly warlike, and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rade spirit of chivalry, were often engaged in scenes highly susceptible of poetical ornament. As the description of scenery and manners was more the object of the author than a combined and regular narrative, the plan of the Ancient Metrical Romance was adopted, which allows greater latitude in this respect than would be consistent with the dignity of a regular Poem. The same model offered other facilities, as it permits an occasional alteration of measure, which, in some degree, authorises the change of rhythm in the text. The machinery, also, adopted from popular belief, would have seemed puerile in a poem which did not partake of the rudeness of the old Ballad, or Metrical Romance. For these reasons the poem was put into the mouth of an ancient Minstrel, the last of the race, who, as he is supposed to have survived the Revolution, might have caught somewhat of the refinement of modern poetry, without losing the simplicity of his original model. The date of the tale itself is about the middle of the sixteenth century, when most of the personages actually flourished. The time occupied by the action is Three Nights and Three Days. INTRODUCTION. THE way was long, the wind was cold, And he, neglected and oppress'd, A stranger fill'd the Stuarts' throne; B The bigots of the iron time He pass'd where Newark's stately tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- The embattled portal arch he pass'd, For she had known adversity, tomb! When kindness had his wants sup- And the old man was gratified, Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, That, if she loved the harp to hear, The humble boon was soon obtain'd; The aged Minstrel audience gain'd. But, when he reach'd the room of state, Where she with all her ladies sate, And gave him heart, and gave him time, Till every string's according glee When he kept court in Holyrood; Amid the strings his fingers stray'd, The old man rais'd his face, and smil'd; And lighten'd up his faded eye In varying cadence, soft or strong, Canto First. 1. Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard; They carv'd at the meal THE feast was over in Branksome And they drank the red wine through 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 tellJesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, Had dared to cross the threshold stone. II. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Knight, and page, and household squire, Loiter'd through the lofty hall, Or crowded round the ample fire: The stag-hounds, weary with the chase, Lay stretch'd upon the rushy floor, And urg'd, in dreams, the forest race From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor. III. Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome hall; Nine-and-twenty squires of name Brought them their steeds to bower from stall; Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall Waited, duteous, on them all: They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch. IV. Ten of them were sheath'd in steel, They lay down to rest, the helmet barr'd. Hung Margaret o'er her slaughter'd sire, And wept in wild despair. But not alone the bitter tear Had filial grief supplied; For hopeless love and anxious fear Had lent their mingled tide: Nor in her mother's alter'd eye Dar'd she to look for sympathy. Her lover, 'gainst her father's clan, With Carr in arms had stood, When Mathouse-burn to Melrose ran All purple with their blood; And well she knew, her mother dread, Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed, Would see her on her dying bed. XI. Of noble race the Ladye came; The slaughter'd chiefs, the mortal jar, Her father was a clerk of fame, Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the And of his skill, as bards avow, |