XIV. Full sore amazed at the wonderous change, Glare from some thicket on his way. XV. And hark! and hark! the deep-mouthed bark Comes nigher still, and nigher; Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound, His tawny muzzle tracked the ground, Soon as the wildered child saw he, I ween you would have seen with joy His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire! And held his little bat on high; So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid, At cautious distance hoarsely bayed, When dashed an archer through the glade, He drew his tough bow-string; But a rough voice cried, "Shoot not, hoy! Ho! shoot not, Edward-'tis a boy!" XVI. The speaker issued from the wood, Well could he hit a fallow deer With hand more true, and eye more clear, His coal-black hair, shorn round and close, Set off his sun-burned face; Old England's sign, St George's cross, His barret-cap did grace ; His bugle horn hung by his side, All in a wolf-skin baldrick tied; Had pierced the throat of many a deer. XVII. His kirtle, made of forest green, Reached scantly to his knee; And at his belt, of arrows keen He never counted him a man, Would strike below the knee; His slackened bow was in his hand, And the leash that was his blood-hound's band. XVIII. He would not do the fair child harm, 66 Now, by St George," the archer cries, Edward, methinks, we have a prize! This boy's fair face, and courage free, XIX. "Yes! I am come of high degree, For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And if thou dost not set me free, False Suthron, thou shalt dearly rue! And every Scott from Eske to Tweed; Despite thy arrows and thy bow, I'll have thee hanged, to feed the crow!" XX. Gramercy, 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, |