With bar of iron heaved amain, Till the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain. That he moved the massy stone at length. Show'd the Monk's cowl, and visage pale, ΧΙΧ. Before their eyes the Wizard lay, The lamp was placed beside his knee: They trusted his soul had gotten grace. XX. Often had William of Deloraine And neither known remorse nor awe; And the priest pray'd fervently and loud: With eyes averted prayed he; He might not endure the sight to see, XXI. And when the priest his death-prayer had pray'd, "Now, speed thee what thou hast to do, Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!" From the cold hand the Mighty Book, With iron clasp'd, and with iron bound: He thought, as he took it, the dead man frown'd; Perchance, had dazzled the warrior's sight. XXII. When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb, The night return'd in double gloom; For the moon had gone down, and the stars were few; And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew, With wavering steps and dizzy brain, They hardly might the postern gain. As if the fiends kept holiday, Because these spells were brought to day. I say the tale as 'twas said to me. XXIII. "Now, hie thee hence," the Father said, O may our dear Ladye, and sweet St John, And many a prayer and penance sped; When the convent met at the noontide bell The Monk of St Mary's aisle was dead! Before the cross was the body laid, With hands clasp'd fast, as if still he pray'd. XXIV. The Knight breathed free in the morning wind, He was glad when he pass'd the tombstones grey, For the mystic Book, to his bosom prest, And his joints, with nerves of iron twin'd, And he said Ave Mary, as well as he might. XXV. The sun had brighten'd Cheviot grey, The sun had brighten'd the Carter's side; And soon beneath the rising day Smiled Branksome towers and Teviot's tide. The wild birds told their warbling tale, And waken'd every flower that blows; And peeped forth the violet pale, And spread her breast the mountain rose. And lovelier than the rose so red, Yet paler than the violet pale, She early left her sleepless bed, XXVI. Why does fair Margaret so early awake, And the silken knots, which in hurry she would make, Why does she stop, and look often around, As she glides down the secret stair; And why does she pat the shaggy blood-hound, • A mountain on the Border of England, above Jedburgh. And, though she passes the postern alone, XXVII. The Ladye steps in doubt and dread, For he was her foster-father's son, And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight. XXVIII. The Knight and Ladye fair are met, To meet beneath the hawthorn green. And she, when love, scarce told, scarce hid, When the half sigh her swelling breast Against the silken ribbon prest; When her blue eyes their secret told, Though shaded by her locks of gold Where would you find the peerless fair, And now, XXIX. fair dames, methinks I see You listen to my minstrelsy; Your waving locks ye backward throw, And how the Knight, with tender fire, And how she blush'd and how she sigh'd, And said that she would die a maid; XXX. Alas! fair dames, your hopes are vain! XXXI. Beneath an oak, moss'd o'er by eld, 16 And held his crested helm and spear: That Dwarf was scarce an earthly man, If the tales were true that of him ran Through all the Border, far and near. 'Twas said, when the Baron a-hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trode, He heard a voice cry, "Lost! lost! lost!" And, like tenis-ball by racket toss'd, A leap, of thirty feet and three, Made from the gorse this elfin shape, Distorted like some dwarfish ape, And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee. Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd; 'Tis said that five good miles he rade, To rid him of his company; But where he rode one mile, the Dwarf ran four, And the Dwarf was first at the castle door. XXXII. Use lessens marvel, it is said: This elfish Dwarf with the Baron staid; |