XX. 'Gramercy for thy good-will, fair boy! My mind was never set so high; My bow of yew to a hazel wand, Border. Meantime, be pleased to come with me, For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see; XXI. Although the child was led away, XXII. Well I ween the charm he held She thought some spirit of the sky wrong; Because, despite her precept dread, Perchance he in the Book had read; But the broken lance in his bosom stood, And it was earthly steel and wood. XXIII. She drew the splinter from the wound, And with a charm she stanch'd the blood; She bade the gash be cleans'd and bound: No longer by his couch she stood; But she has ta'en the broken lance, And wash'd it from the clotted gore, And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. William of Deloraine, in trance, Whene'er she turn'd it round and round, Twisted as if she gall'd his wound. Then to her maidens she did say That he should be whole man and sound Within the course of a night and day. Full long she toil'd; for she did rue Mishap to friend so stout and true. XXIV. So pass'd the day; the evening fell, 'Twas near the time of curfew bell; The air was mild, the wind was calm, The stream was smooth, the dew was balm; E'en the rude watchman on the tower | Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour. Far more fair Margaret lov'd and bless'd The hour of silence and of rest. On the high turret sitting lone, She waked at times the lute's soft tone; Touch'd a wild note, and all between Thought of the bower of hawthorns green. Her golden hair stream'd free from band, Her fair cheek rested on her hand, Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star. XXV. Is yon the star, o'er Penchryst Pen, Shakes its loose tresses on the night? | For well she knew the fire of death! XXVI. The Warder view'd it blazing strong, Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost; XXVII. The Seneschal, whose silver hair haughswire; Ride out, ride out, The foe to scout! man! Young Gilbert, let our beacon blaze, XXVIII. Fair Margaret from the turret head As to their seats, with clamour dread, And trampling hoofs, and iron coats, The horsemen gallop'd forth; And east, and west, and north, XXIX. The ready page, with hurried hand, And ruddy blush'd the heaven: high Wav'd like a blood-flag on the sky, All flaring and uneven; And soon a score of fires, I ween, seen; Each with warlike tidings fraught, As stars arise upon the night. Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnstone On many a cairn's grey pyramid, clan, That ever are true and stout; Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid That all should bowne them for the XXX. The livelong night in Branksome rang Sent forth the larum peal; To whelm the foe with deadly shower; Was frequent heard the changing guard, And watch-word from the sleepless ward; While, wearied by the endless din, Blood-hound and ban-dog yell'd with in. XXXI. The noble Dame, amid the broil, Held with the chiefs of riper age. And others ween'd that it was nought But Leven clans, or Tynedale men, Who came to gather in black-mail; And Liddesdale, with small avail, Might drive them lightly back agen. So pass'd the anxious night away, And welcome was the peep of day. CEAS'D the high sound. The listening Why, when the volleying musket throng Applaud the Master of the Song; And marvel much, in helpless age, So hard should be his pilgrimage. Had he no friend, no daughter dear, His wandering toil to share and cheer; play'd Against the bloody Highland blade, Why was not I beside him laid! Enough, he died the death of fame; Enough, he died with conquering Græme. III. Now over Border dale and fell Full wide and far was terror spread; For pathless marsh, and mountain cell, The peasant left his lowly shed. The frighten'd flocks and herds were pent Beneath the peel's rude battlement; And maids and matrons dropp'd the tear, While ready warriors seiz'd the spear. From Branksome's towers, the watchman's eye Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy, Which, curling in the rising sun, Show'd southern ravage was begun. IV. Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried His wife, stout, ruddy, and darkbrow'd, Of silver brooch and bracelet proud, Laugh'd to her friends among the crowd. He was of stature passing tall, His hardy partner bore. VI. Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show 'Prepare ye all for blows and And hot Lord Dacre, with many a VII. Now weary scouts from Liddesdale, Three thousand armed Englishmen ; 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. From fair St. Mary's silver wave, From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height, His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright. The treasured 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. An 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- High over Borthwick's mountain flood And bought with danger, blows, and blood. Marauding chief! his sole delight In youth, might tame his rage for arms; And still, in age, he spurn'd at rest, Before their father's band; X. Scotts of Eskdale, a stalwart band, Came trooping down the Todshawhill; By the sword they won their land, And by the sword they hold it still. Hearken, Ladye, to the tale, How thy sires won fair Eskdale. EARL Morton was lord of that valley fair; The Beattisons were his vassals there. The Earl was gentle, and mild of mood; The vassals were warlike, and fierce, and rude; High of heart, and haughty of word, Little they reck'd of a tame liege lord. The Earl into fair Eskdale came, Homage and seignory to claim : |