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Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy,
Which, curling in the rising sun,
Show'd southern ravage was begun.

66

IV.

OW loud the heedful gate-ward cried-
Prepare ye all for blows and blood!
Watt Tinlinn,† from the Liddel-side,
Comes wading through the flood.
Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock
At his lone gate, and prove the lock;
It was but last St. Barnabright

They sieged him a whole summer night,
But fled at morning; well they knew
In vain he never twang'd the yew.
Right sharp has been the evening shower,
That drove him from his Liddel tower;
And, by my faith," the gate-ward said,
"I think 'twill prove a Warden-Raid."+

M

V.

HILE thus he spoke, the bold yeoman
Entered the echoing barbican.

He led a small and shaggy nag,

That through a bog, from hag to hag,+

Could bound like any Billhope stag.
It bore his wife and children twain ;
A half-clothed serf was all their train :
His wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-brow'd,
Of silver brooch and bracelet proud,+
Laugh'd to her friends among the crowd.
He was of stature passing tall,
But sparely form'd, and lean withal ;
A batter'd morion on his brow;
A leather jack, as fence enow,

On his broad shoulders loosely hung;
A Border axe behind was slung;
His spear, six Scottish ells in length,
Seemed newly died with gore;

His shafts and bow, of wondrous strength
His hardy partner bore.

VI.

HUS to the Ladye did Tinlinn show The tidings of the English foe:"Belted Will Howard+ is marching here, And hot Lord Dacre,† with many a spear, And all the German hackbut-men,†

Who have long lain at Askerten :

They cross'd the Liddel at curfew hour,
And burned my little lonely tower;
The fiend receive their souls therefor!

It had not been burnt this year and more.
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight;

But I was chased the livelong night.
Black John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Græme,

Fast upon my traces came,

Until I turn'd at Priesthaugh Scrogg,
And shot their horses in the bog,
Slew Fergus with my lance outright—
I had him long at high despite :
He drove my cows last Fastern's night."-

VII.

OW weary scouts from Liddesdale, Fast hurrying in, confirm'd the tale; As far as they could judge by ken,

Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand

Three thousand armed Englishmen— Meanwhile, full many a warlike band, From Teviot, Aill, and Ettrick shade,

Came in, their Chief's defence to aid.

There was saddling and mounting in haste,
There was pricking o'er moor and lea;
He that was last at the trysting-place
Was but lightly held of his gay ladye.

VIII

ROM fair St. Mary's silver wave,
From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky
height,

His ready lances Thirlestane brave
Array'd beneath a banner bright.
The tressur'd fleur-de-luce he claims,
To wreathe his shield, since royal James,
Encamp'd by Fala's mossy wave,
The proud distinction grateful gave,
For faith 'mid feudal jars ;

What time, save Thirlestane alone,
Of Scotland's stubborn barons none
Would march to southern wars;
And hence, in fair remembrance worn,
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ;
Hence his high motto shines reveal'd-
"Ready, aye ready,". for the field.

IX.

N aged Knight, to danger steel'd,

With many a moss-trooper, came on;

And azure in a golden field,

The stars and crescent graced his shield,
Without the bend of Murdieston.
Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower,
And wide round haunted Castle-Ower;
High over Borthwick's mountain flood,
His wood-embosom'd mansion stood;
In the dark glen, so deep below,
The herds of plunder'd England low ;
His bold retainers' daily food,

And bought with danger, blows, and blood.
Marauding chief! his sole delight

The moonlight raid, the morning fight;
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms,
In youth, might tame his rage for arms;
And still, in age, he spurn'd at rest,
And still his brows the helmet press'd,
Albeit the blanched locks below
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow;
Five stately warriors drew the sword

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