XVII.

IS kirtle, made of forest green,
Reach'd scantly to his knee;
And, at his belt, of arrows keen
A furbish'd sheaf bore he ;
His buckler scarce in breadth a span,
No larger fence had he;

He never counted him a man,

Would strike below the knee:†

His slacken'd bow was in his hand,

And the leash, that was his blood-hound's

band.

XVIII.

E would not do the fair child harm,
But held him with his powerful arm,
That he might neither fight nor flee ;
For when the Red-Cross spied he,
The boy strove long and violently.
"Now, by St. George," the archer cries,
"Edward, methinks we have a prize!
This boy's fair face, and courage free,
Show he is come of high degree.”—

XIX.

ES! I am come of high degree,

For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ;

And, if thou dost not set me free,

False Southron, thou shalt dearly rue! For Walter of Harden shall come with speed, And William of Deloraine, good at need, And every Scott, from Esk to Tweed; And, if thou dost not let me go,

Despite thy arrows, and thy bow,

I'll have thee hang'd to feed the crow!"

XX.

RAMERCY, for thy good-will, fair boy!

My mind was never set so high;

But if thou art chief of such a clan,
And art the son of such a man,

And ever comest to thy command,

Our wardens had need to keep good order; My bow of yew to a hazel wand,

Thou'lt make them work upon the Border. Meantime, be pleased to come with me, For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see;

I think our work is well begun,

When we have taken thy father's son."

XXI.

LTHOUGH the child was led away, In Branksome still he seem'd to stay For so the Dwarf his part did play; And, in the shape of that young boy, He wrought the castle much annoy The comrades of the young Buccleuch He pinch'd, and beat, and overthrew ; Nay, some of them he well nigh slew. He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire, And, as Sym Hall stood by the fire, He lighted the match of his bandelier,t And wofully scorch'd the hackbuteer.t It may be hardly thought or said, The mischief that the urchin made, Till many of the castle guess'd,

That the young Baron was possess'd !

XXII.

ELL I ween the charm he held

The noble Ladye had soon dispell'd;

But she was deeply busied then

To tend the wounded Deloraine.

Much she wonder'd to find him lie,

On the stone threshold stretch'd along ; She thought some spirit of the sky Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong; Because, despite her precept dread, Perchance he in the Book had read; But the broken lance in his bosom stood, And it was earthly steel and wood.

XXIII.

HE drew the splinter from the wound,

And with a charm she stanch'd the blood; She bade the gash be cleansed and bound: No longer by his couch she stood; But she has ta'en the broken lance, And wash'd it from the clotted gore, And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. William of Deloraine, in trance,

Whene'er she turned it round and round, Twisted as if she gall'd his wound.

Then to her maidens she did say,

That he should be whole man and sound, Within the course of a night and day.

Full long she toil'd; for she did rue
Mishap to friend so stout and true.

XXIV

O pass'd the day-the evening fell,

'Twas near the time of curfew bell;
The air was mild, the wind was calm,
The stream was smooth, the dew was balm;
E'en the rude watchman, on the tower,
Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour.

Far more fair Margaret loved and bless'd
The hour of silence and of rest.

On the high turret sitting lone,

She waked at times the lute's soft tone;
Touch'd a wild note, and all between
Thought of the bower of hawthorns green.
Her golden hair stream'd free from band,
Her fair cheek rested on her hand,
Her blue eyes sought the west afar,
For lovers love the western star.

XXV.

S yon the star, o'er Penchryst Pen,
That rises slowly to her ken,

And, spreading broad its wavering light,