His bugle Wat of Harden blew ; Pensils and pennons wide were flung, To heaven the Border slogan rung, "St Mary for the young Buccleuch !" The English war-cry answered wide, And forward bent each southern spear; Each Kendale archer made a stride, And drew the bowstring to his ear; Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown; But, e'er a gray-goose shaft had flown, A horseman galloped from the rear. XXV. Ah, noble Lords!" he breathless said, "What treason has your march betrayed? What make you here, from aid so far, Already on dark Ruberslaw The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw * ; Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain ; Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good, And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale, In Liddisdale I've wandered long; And cannot brook my country's wrong; And hard I've spurred all night, to shew The mustering of the coming foe." * *Weapon-schaw, the military array of a county. XXVI. "And let them come!" fierce Dacre cried; "For soon yon crest, my father's pride, That swept the shores of Judah's sea, From Branksome's highest tower displayed, Level each harquebuss on row; Draw, merry archers, draw the bow; Dacre for England, win or die!" XXVII. "Yet hear," quoth Howard, " calmly hear, Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back? Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three, Certes, were desperate policy. Nay, take the terms the Ladye made, E'er conscious of the advancing aid : Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine In single fight; and if he gain, The rest, retreating as they came, Avoid defeat, and death, and shame." XXVIII. Ill could the haughty Dacre brook But ne'er again the Border side XXIX. The pursuivant-at-arms again Before the castle took his stand; His trumpet called, with parleying strain, Howe'er it falls, the English band, Shall straight retreat to Cumberland." |