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An aged man, in amice brown, "A warlock loved the warrior well, Stood by the wanderer's side ;
Sir Michael Scott by name, By powerful charm, a dead man's arm And he sought for his sake a spell to The torch's light supplied.
Should the Southern foemen tame. From each stiff finger, stretch'd upright,
6« Look thou,” he said, “ from CessArose a ghastly flame,
ford head, That waved not in the blast of night As the July sun sinks low, Which through the cavern came. And when glimmering white
Cheviot's height O, deadly blue was that taper's hue, Thou shalt spy a wreath of snow,
That flamed the cavern o’er, The spell is complete which shall But more deadly blue was the ghastly bring to thy feet hue
The haughty Saxon foe.” Of his eyes who the taper bore.
'For many a year wrought the wizard He laid on his head a hand like lead,
here, As heavy, pale, and cold
In Cheviot's bosom low, • Vengeance be thine, thou guest of | Till the spell was complete, and in mine,
July's heat If thy heart be firm and bold.
Appear'd December's snow;
But Cessford's Halbert never came But if faint thy heart, and caitiff fear The wondrous cause to know.
Thy recreant sinews know, The mountain erne thy heart shall tear, · For years before in Bowden aisle Thy nerves the hooded crow.'
The warrior's bones had lain;
And after short while, by female guile, The wanderer raised him undismay'd: Sir Michael Scott was slain.
“My soul, by dangers steel'd, Is stubborn as my border blade, But me and my brethren in this cell Which never knew to yield.
His mighty charms retain ;
And he that can quell the powerful . And if thy power can speed the hour spell Of vengeance on my foes,
Shall o'er broad Scotland reign.' Theirs be the fate from bridge and gate To feed the hooded crows.'
He led him through an iron door
And up a winding stair, The Brownie look'd him in the face, And in wild amaze did the wanderer And his colour fled with speed
gaze I fear me,' quoth he, 'uneath it will be On the sight which open'd there. To match thy word with deed.
Through the gloomy night flash d "In ancient days when English bands ruddy light,Sore ravaged Scotland fair,
A thousand torches glow ; The sword and shield of Scottish land The cave rosehigh, like the vaultedsky, Was valiant Halbert Kerr.
O'er stalls in double row.
In every stall of that endless hall At length before his wondering eyes,
Stood a steed in barbing bright; On an iron column borne, At the foot of each steed, all arm'd Of antique shape, and giant size, save the head,
Appear'd a sword and horn. Lay stretch'd a stalwart knight.
Now choose thee here,' quoth his
leader, In each mail'd hand was a naked brand;
“Thy venturous fortune try; As they lay on the black bull's hide, Thy woe and weal, thy boot and bale, Each visage stern did upwards turn,
In yon brand and bugle lie.' With eyeballs fix'd and wide.
Tothefatal brand he mounted his hand,
But his soul did quiver and quail; A launcegay strong, full twelve ells
The life-blood did start to his shudderlong,
ing heart, By every warrior hung;
And left him wan and pale.
The brand he forsook, and the horn
he took The casque hung near each cavalier; To 'say a gentle sound; The plumes waved mournfully
But so wild a blast from the bugle brast, At every tread which the wanderer That the Cheviot rock'd around. made
From Forth to Tees, from seas to seas, Through the hall of gramarye.
The awful bugle rung;
On Carlisle wall, and Berwick withal, The ruddy beam of the torches' gleam To arms the warders sprung.
That glared the warriors on, Reflected light from armour bright,
With clank and clang the cavern rang, In noontide splendour shone.
The steeds did stamp and neigh;
And loud was the yell as each warrior And onward seen in lustre sheen,
fell Still lengthening on the sight,
Sterte up with hoop and cry. Through the boundless hall stood
Woe, woe,' they cried, 'thou caitiff steeds in stall,
coward, And by each lay a sable knight.
. That ever thou wert born!
Why drew ye not the knightly sword Still as the dead lay cach horseman Before ye blew the horn?'
dread, And moved nor limb nor tongue ; Each steed stood stiff as an earthfast
The morning on the mountain shone,
And on the bloody ground, cliff, Nor hoof nor bridle rung.
Hurl'd from the cave with shiver d
The mangled wretch was found. No sounds through all the spacious hall The deadly still divide,
And still beneath the cavern dread, Save where echoes aloof from the Among the glidders grey, vaulted roof
A shapeless stone with lichens spread To the wanderer's step replied. Marks where the wanderer lay.
(1799.) Go sit old Cheviot's crest below, And ive mark the lingering snow
In all his scaurs abide,
Feed sparkling Bowmont's tide.
Broken ranks yielding,
retiring, Yields in wild rout the fair palm to his
Fair shines the stream by bank and lea, As wimpling to the eastern sea
She seeks Till's sullen bed, Indenting deep the fatal plain, Where Scotland's noblest, brave in
Joy to each warrior, true follower of
Aspen ! Joy to the heroes that gain'd the
bold day! Health to our wounded, in agony
gasping; Peace to our brethren that fell in
Boldly this morning,
Roderic's power scorning, Well for their chieftain their blades
did they wield:
Joy blest them dying,
As Maltingen flying,
adorning, Their death-clouded eyeballs descried
on the field!
Now to our home, the proud mansion
of Aspen, Bend we, gay victors, triumphant
away; There each fond damsel, her gallant
youth clasping, Shall wipe from his forehead the
stains of the fray.
Listening the prancing
Of horses advancing;
Love our hearts warming,
Songs the night charming, Round goes the grape in the goblet
gay dancing; Love, wine, and song, our blithe
evening shall cheer!
The Warden's daughters in Lochwood
sate, Were all both fair and gay,
WAR.SONG OF THE ROYAL All save the Lady Margaret,
EDINBURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS. And she was wan and wae.
(1E02.) The sister, Jean, had a full fair skin, To horse! to horse! the standard flies,
And Grace was bauld and braw; The bugles sound the call; But the leal-fast heart her breast within The Gallic navy stems the seas, It weel was worth them a'.
The voice of battle's on the breeze,
Arouse ye, one and all !
From high Dunedin's towers we come,
A band of brothers true; But Margaret maun seek Dundrennan's
Our casques the leopard's spoils surShe ne'er can be a bride.
With Scotland's hardy thistlecrown'd; On spear and casque by gallants gent
We boast the red and blue 1. Her sisters' scarfs were borne,
Though tamely crouch to Gallia's frown But never at tilt or tournament
Dull Holland's tardy train; Were Margaret's colours worn.
Their ravish'd toys though Romans Her sisters rode to Thirlstane bower, Though gallant Switzers vainly spurn,
But she was left at hame
And, foaming, gnaw the chain; And sigh young Harden's name.
i The royal colours.