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The livelong night in Branksome rang
The ceaseless sound of steel;
Sent forth the larum peal;
The noble Dame, amid the broil,
No tidings of the foe were brought,
Some said, that there were thousands ten; And others weened that it was naught
But Leven Clans, or Tynedale men,
Might drive them lightly back agen.
Ceased the high sound—the listening throng
* Protection-money exacted by free-bootera.
Had he no friend—no daughter dear,