« 前へ次へ »
Lest Scroop, or Howard, or Percy's
powers, Threaten Branksome's + lordly towers, From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle.
Beside his broken spear.
Or stanch the death-feud's enmity ?
Can Christian lore, can patriot zeal,
Can love of blessed charity ? No! vainly to each holy shrine,
In mutual pilgrimage, they drew;t Implored, in vain, the grace divine
For chiefs, their own red falchions slew ; While Cessford owns the rule of Carret
While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott, The slaughter'd chiefs, the mortal jar, The havoc of the feudal war,
Shall never, never be forgot !
SAN sorrow o'er Lord Walter's bier
Old Teviot's maids and matrons lent :
Had lock'd the source of softer woe ; And burning pride, and high disdain,
Forbade the rising tear to flow ; Until, amid his sorrowing clan,
Her son lisp'd from the nurse's knee“ And if I live to be a man,
My father's death revenged shall be !"-Then fast the mother's tears did seek To dew the infant's kindling cheek.
x. ALL loose her negligent attire,
All loose her golden hair, Hung Margaret o'er her slaughter'd sire,
And wept in wild despair.
Had filial grief supplied ;
Had lent their mingled tide :
With Carr in arms had stood,
All purple with their blood ;
Her father was a clerk of fame,
In Padua, far beyond the sea.t
By feat of magic mystery ;
St. Andrew's cloister'd hall,
Upon the sunny wall!+
HIND of his skill, as bards avow,
He taught that Ladye fair, Till to her bidding she could bow
The viewless forms of air. And now she sits in secret bower, In old Lord David's western tower, And listens to a heavy sound, That moans the mossy turrets round. Is it the roar of Teviot's tide, That chafes against the scaur'st red side?
Is it the wind, that swings the oaks ?
at the sullen, moaning sound,
The ban-dogs bay and howl ;
Loud whoops the startled owl.
Swore that a storm was near,
But the night was still and clear !
ROM the sound of Teviot's tide,
Chafing with the mountain's side,
The Ladye knew it well!