When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, II. Short halt did Deloraine make there; "Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?" And lands and livings, many a rood, Had gifted the shrine for their souls' repose. III. Bold Deloraine his errand said; IV. "The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me; Says, that the fated hour is come, And that to-night I shall watch with thee, V. And strangely on the Knight looked he, And his blue eyes gleamed wild and wide; 66 And, dar'st thou, Warrior! seek to see What heaven and hell alike would hide? My breast, in belt of iron pent, With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn; * Aventayle, visor of the helmet. For threescore years, in penance spent, For knowing what should ne'er be known. In ceaseless prayer and penance drie, VI. "Penance, father, will I none; For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry, When I ride on a Border foray: Other prayer can I none; So speed me my errand, and let me be gone.' VII. Again on the Knight looked the Churchman old, For he had himself been a warrior bold, And fought in Spain and Italy. And he thought on the days that were long since by, When his limbs were strong, and his courage was high :-Now, slow and faint, he led the way, Where, cloistered round, the garden lay; The pillared arches were over their head, And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. VIII. Spreading herbs, and flowerets bright, Nor herb, nor floweret, glistened there, But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. The youth in glittering squadrons start; And hurl the unexpected dart. He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, IX. By a steel-clenched postern door, On pillars lofty and light and small: The key-stone, that locked each ribbed aisle, The corbells* were carved grotesque and grim; X. Full many a scutcheon and banner, riven, And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale ! O high ambition, lowly laid! XI. The moon on the east oriel shone Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand In many a freakish knot, had twined; Showed many a prophet, and many a saint, Full in the midst, his Cross of Red And trampled the Apostate's pride. XII. They sate them down on a marble stone, For Paynim countries I have trod, And fought beneath the Cross of God: Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear, And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear. XIII. "In these far climes, it was my lot * Corbells, the projections from which the arches spring, usually cut in a fantastic face, or mask. And, Warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone: But to speak them were a deadly sin; And for having but thought them my heart within, A treble penance must be done. XIV. "When Michael lay on his dying bed, He bethought him of his sinful deed, That he spoke to me, on death-bed laid; XV. I swore to bury his Mighty Book, That never mortal might therein look; And never to tell where it was hid, Save at his Chief of Branksome's need: And when that need was past and o'er, Again the volume to restore. I buried him on St. Michael's night, When the bell tolled one, and the moon was bright, When the floor of the chancel was stainèd red, XVI. "It was a night of woe and dread, When Michael in the tomb I laid! Strange sounds along the chancel past, The banners waved without a blast,' -Still spoke the Monk, when the bell tolled one !- I tell you, that a braver man Than William of Deloraine, good at need, Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed; Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread, 66 XVII. 'Lo, Warrior! now, the Cross of Red Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone, He pointed to a secret nook; An iron bar the Warrior took; And the Monk made a sign with his withered hand, The grave's huge portal to expand. XVIII. With beating heart to the task he went ; Till the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain. Shewed the Monk's cowl, and visage pale, XIX. 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 or awe; And the priest prayed fervently and loud: He might not endure the sight to see, XXI. And when the priest his death-prayer had prayed, Thus unto Deloraine he said : |