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He counterfeited childish fear,
And shriek’d, and shed full many a tear,
And moan'd and plain'd in manner wild.

The attendants to the Ladye told,
Some fairy, sure, had changed the child,

That wont to be so free and bold. Then wrathful was the noble dame; She blush'd blood-red for very shame :“ Hence ! ere the clan his faintness view; Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch ! Watt Tinlinn, thou shalt be his guide To Rangleburn's lonely side.Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line, That coward should ere be son of mine!”

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HEAVY task Watt Tinlinn had,
and To guide the counterfeited lad.
Soon as the palfrey felt the weight
Of that ill-omen'd elfish freight,
He bolted, sprung, and rear'd amain,
Nor heeded bit, nor curb, nor rein.

It cost Watt Tinlinn mickle toil
To drive him but a Scottish mile ;

But as a shallow brook they crossid,
The elf, amid the running stream,
His figure chang’d, like form in dream,

And fled, and shouted, “Lost ! lost! lost!”
Full fast the urchin ran and laugh’d,
But faster still a cloth-yard shaft
Whistled from startled Tinlinn's yew,
And pierced his shoulder through and through.
Although the imp might not be slain,
And though the wound soon heal'd again,
Yet, as he ran, he yell’d for pain ;
And Watt of Tinlinn, much aghast,
Rode back to Branksome fiery fast.

XVI.

SOON on the hill's steep verge he stood,

That looks o'er Branksome's towers

and wood ;
And martial murmurs, from below,
Proclaim'd the approaching southern foe.
Through the dark wood, in mingled tone,
Were Border pipes and bugles blown ;
The coursers' neighing he could ken,
A measured tread of marching men ;

While broke at times the solemn hum,
The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum;
And banners tall, of crimson sheen,

Above the copse appear ;
And, glistening through the hawthorns

green,
Shine helm, and shield, and spear.

XVII.
NIGHT forayers, first, to view the ground,

Spurr'd their fleet coursers loosely round; Behind, in close array, and fast,

The Kendal archers, all in green, Obedient to the bugle blast,

Advancing from the wood were seen. To back and guard the archer band, Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand : A hardy race, on Irthing bred, With kirtles white, and crosses red, Array'd beneath the banner tall, That stream'd o'er Acre's conquer'd wall ; And minstrels, as they march'd in order, Play'd, “ Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on

the Border."

XVIII.

BEHIND the English bill and bow,

The mercenaries, firm and slow, Moved on to fight, in dark array, By Conrad led of Wolfenstein, Who brought the band from distant Rhine,

And sold their blood for foreign pay. The camp their home, their law the sword, They knew no country, own'd no lord : They were not arm'd like England's sons, But bore the levin-darting guns ;. Buff coats, all frounced and 'broider'd o’er, And morsing-hornst and scarfs they wore ; Each better knee was bared, to aid . The warriors in the escalade ; All, as they march’d, in rugged tongue, Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung.

xix. PUT louder still the clamour grew, 2 And louder still the minstrels blew, When, from beneath the greenwood tree, Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry ; His men-at arms, with glaive and spear,

Brought up the battle’s glittering rear.
There many a youthful knight, full keen
To gain his spurs, in arms was seen ;
With favour in his crest, or glove,
Memorial of his ladye-love.
So rode they forth in fair array,
Till full their lengthen'd lines display ;
Then calld a halt, and made a stand,
And cried, “St. George, for merry England !”

xx.
WOW every English eye, intent,
H On Branksome's armed towers was bent;
So near they were, that they might know
The straining harsh of each cross-bow;
On battlement and bartizan
Gleam'd axe, and spear, and partizan ;
Falcon and culver, on each tower,
Stood prompt their deadly hail to shower ;
And flashing armour frequent broke
From eddying whirls of sable smoke,
Where upon tower and turret head,
The seething pitch and molten lead
Reek’d, like a witch's cauldron red.

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