When the half sigh her swelling breast Against the silken ribband prest; When her blue eyes their secret told, Though shaded by her locks of gold Where would you find the peerless fair, With Margaret of Branksome might compare! XXIX. And now, fair dames, methinks I see You listen to my minstrelsy; Your waving locks ye backward throw, And sidelong bend your necks of snow : Ye ween to hear a melting tale, Of two true lovers in a dale; And how the Knight, with tender fire, Swore, he might at her feet expire, But never, never cease to love; And how she blushed, and how she sighed, And said that she would die a maid ; Yet, might the bloody feud be stayed, Margaret of Branksome's choice should be. XXX. Alas! fair dames, your hopes are vain! XXXI. Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld, And held his crested helm and spear: That Dwarf was scarcely 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 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 elvish Dwarf with the Baron staid; Little he ate, and less he spoke, Nor mingled with the menial flock: And oft apart his arms he toss'd, And often mutter'd, "Lost! lost! lost!" But well Lord Cranstoun served he: XXXIII. For the Baron went on pilgrimage, And he would pay his vows. But the Ladye of Branksome gathered a band Of the best that would ride at her command; The trysting place was Newark Lee. Wat of Harden came thither amain, And thither came John of Thirlestaine, And thither came William of Deloraine ; spears and three. They were three hundred Through Douglas-burn, up Yarrow stream, And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin-Page. XXXIV. And now, in Branksome's good green wood, As under the aged oak he stood, The Baron's courser pricks his ears, As if a distant noise he hears ; The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, And signs to the lovers to part and fly ; No time was then to vow or sigh. |