The pledge to Arthur Fire-the-Braes ;
And he, as by his breeding bound,
To Howard's merry-men sent it round.
To quit them, on the English side,
Red Roland Forster loudly cried,
"A deep carouse to yon fair bride.”—
At every pledge, from vat and pail,
Foam'd forth in floods the nut-brown ale;
While shout the riders every one;
Such day of mirth ne'er cheered their clan,
Since old Buccleuch the name did gain,
When in the cleuch the buck was ta'en.t
HE wily Page, with vengeful thought, Remember'd him of Tinlinn's yew, And swore, it should be dearly bought That ever he the arrow drew.
First, he the yeoman did molest,
With bitter gibe and taunting jest ;
Told, how he fled at Solway strife,
And how Hob Armstrong cheer'd his wife;
Then, shunning still his powerful arm,
At unawares he wrought him harm,
From trencher stole his choicest cheer,
Dash'd from his lips his can of beer;
Then, to his knee sly creeping on,
With bodkin pierc'd him to the bone :
The venom'd wound, and festering joint,
Long after rued that bodkin's point.
The startled yeoman swore and spurn'd,
And board and flagons overturn'd.
Riot and clamour wild began ;
Back to the hall the Urchin ran;
Took in a darkling nook his post,
And grinn'd, and mutter'd, "Lost! lost! lost!"
Y this, the Dame, lest farther fray
Should mar the concord of the day,
Had bid the Minstrels tune their lay.
And first stept forth old Albert Græme,
The Minstrel of that ancient name :†
Was none who struck the harp so well,
Within the Land Debateable;
Well friended, too, his hardy kin,
Whoever lost, were sure to win ;
They sought the beeves that made their broth,
In Scotland and in England both.
In homely guise, as nature bade,
His simple song the Borderer said.
It was an English ladye bright,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And she would marry a Scottish knight,
For Lobe will still be lord of all.
Blithely they saw the rising sun,
When he shone fair on Carlisle wall;
But they were sad ere day was done,
Though Lobe was still the lord of all.
Her sire gabe brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;
Her brother gabe but a flask of wine,
For ire that Lobe was lord of all.
For she had lands, both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all.
That wine she had not tasted well,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, For Lobe was still the lord of all!
He pierced her brother to the heart,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall:-
So perish all would true love part,
That Lobe may still be lord of all!
And then he took the cross dibine,
(Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And died for her sake in Palestine ;
So Lobe was still the lord of all.
Noto all ye lovers, that faithful probe,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
Pray for their souls who died for lobe,
For Jobe shall still be lord of all!
S ended Albert's simple lay,
Arose a bard of loftier port;
For sonnet, rhyme, and roundelay,
Renown'd in haughty Henry's court:
There rung thy harp, unrivall❜d long,
Fitztraver of the silver song!
The gentle Surrey loved his lyre—
Who has not heard of Surrey's fame?+
His was the hero's soul of fire,
And his the bard's immortal name,
And his was love, exalted high
By all the glow of chivalry.
HEY sought, together, climes afar,
And oft, within some olive grove,
When even came with twinkling star,
They sung of Surrey's absent love.
His step the Italian peasant stay'd,
And deem'd, that spirits from on high,
Round where some hermit saint was laid,
Were breathing heavenly melody;
So sweet did harp and voice combine,
To praise the name of Geraldine.
ITZTRAVER! O what tongue may say
The pangs thy faithful bosom knew,
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