And hence, in fair remembrance worn,
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ;
Hence his high motto shines revealed,

ઃઃ

Ready, aye ready," for the field.

IX.

An aged knight, to danger steeled,

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-embosomed mansion stood;

In the dark glen, so deep below,
The herds of plundered 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 spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed;
Albeit the blanched locks below

Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow;
Five stately warriors drew the sword
Before their father's band;

A braver knight than Harden's lord

Ne'er belted on a brand.

X.

Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came,

And warriors more than I may name;

But better hearts o'er Border sod

To siege or rescue never rode.

The Ladye marked the aids come in,
And high her heart of pride arose ;
She bade her youthful son attend,
That he might know his father's friend,
And learn to face his father's foes.
"The boy is ripe to look on war ;
I saw him draw a cross-bow stiff,
And his true arrow struck afar

The raven's nest upon the cliff;
The red cross, on a southern breast,
Is broader than the raven's nest :

Thou, Whitslade, shalt teach him his weapon to

wield,

And o'er him hold his father's shield."

XI.

Well may you think the wily page

Cared not to face the Ladye sage.

He counterfeited childish fear,

And shrieked, and shed full many a tear,

And moaned and plained 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 blushed 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 e'er be son of mine!"

XII.

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

It cost Wat Tinlinn mickle toil

To drive him but a Scottish mile;

But, as a shallow brook they crossed, The elf, amid the running stream,

His figure changed, like form in dream,

And fled, and shouted, "Lost! lost! lost!" Full fast the urchin ran and laughed,

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 healed again,

Yet, as he ran, he yelled for pain;

And Wat of Tinlinn, much aghast,

Rode back to Branksome fiery fast.

XIII.

Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood,

That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood;