And Tweed's fair borders, to the war, And Hepburn's mingled banners come, V. Now squire and knight, from Branksome sent, Meet thanks for prompt and powerful aid; To taste of Branksome cheer. Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot, VI. Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask, To keep the truce which here was set; They met on Teviot's strand; As brothers meet in foreign land: Were interchanged in greeting dear; Some drove the jolly bowl about; With dice and draughts some chased the day; And some, with many a merry shout, In riot, revelry, and rout, Pursued the foot-ball play." VII. Yet, be it known, had bugles blown, Or sign of war been seen, 1 See Appendix, Note 3 S. a A sort of knife or poniard. Those bands, so fair together ranged, Had dyed with gore the green: Had found a bloody sheath. "Twixt truce and war, such sudden change Was not infrequent, nor held strange, In the old Border-day: 4 But yet on Branksome's towers and town, VIII. The blithsome signs of wassel gay clan ;5 Aud revellers, o'er their bowls, proclaim Douglas or Dacre's conquering name. IX. Less frequent heard, and fainter still, Rung from the nether lawn; X. Margaret from hall did soon retreat, For many a noble warrior strove To win the Flower of Teviot's love, And many a bold ally.— With throbbing head and anxious heart, All in her lonely bower apart, In broken sleep she lay: By times, from silken couch she rose; While yet the banner'd hosts repose, She view'd the dawning day: Of all the hundreds sunk to rest, First woke the loveliest and the best. XI. She gazed upon the inner court, Which in the tower's tall shadow lay; Where coursers' clang, and stamp, and snort, Had rung the livelong yesterday; Now still as death; till stalking slow, The jingling spurs announced his tread,-A stately warrior pass'd below; But when he raised his plumed head- He walks through Branksome's hostile towers, She dared not sign, she dared not speak- His blood the price must pay! XII. Yet was his hazard small; for well But O! what magic's quaint disguise While with surprise and fear she strove, And both could scarcely master loveLord Henry 's at her feet. XIII. Oft have I mused, what purpose bad To bring this meeting round; In such no joy is found; And oft I've deem'd, perchance he thought Their erring passion might have wrought In the first edition, "the silver cord;"- A martial piece of music, adapted to the bagpipes. Sorrow, and sin, and shame; And death to Cranstoun's gallant Knight, And to the gentle ladye bright, Disgrace, and loss of fame. But earthly spirit could not tell Whose wishes, soon as granted, fy; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die; It is the secret sympathy, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, XIV. Their warning blasts the bugles blew, The trooping warriors eager ran : XV. Meantime full anxious was the Dame; XVI. When for the lists they sought the plain, Did noble Howard hold; 3 It may be noticed that the late Lord Napier, the represen tative of the Scotts of Thirlestane, was Lord Lieutenant of Selkirkshire (of which the author was sheriff depute) at the time when the poem was written; the competitor for the honour of supplying Deloraine's place was the poet's own ancestor.-ED. 4 See Canto III. Stanza xxiii. Costly his garb-his Flemish ruff His hose with silver twined; XVII. Behind Lord Howard and the Dame, XVIII. Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch, On peril of his life; And not a breath the silence broke, XIX. ENGLISH HERALD. "Here standeth Richard of Musgrave, Good knight and true, and freely born, Amends from Deloraine to crave, For foul despiteous scathe and scorn. This couplet was added in the second edition. 2 After this, in the first edition, we read only, "At the last words, with deadly blows, "The whole scene of the duel, or judicial combat, is con He sayeth, that William of Deloraine Is traitor false by Border laws; This with his sword he will maintain, So help him God, and his good cause!" XX. SCOTTISH HERALD. "Here standeth William of Deloraine, LORD DACRE. "Forward, brave champions, to the fight! Sound trumpets!" LORD HOME. —“God defend the right!”— Then, Teviot! how thine echoes rang, When bugle-sound and trumpet-clang Let loose the martial foes, And in mid list, with shield poised high, The combatants did close. XXI. Ill would it suit your gentle ear, Ye lovely listeners, to hear How to the axe the helms did sound, And blood pour'd down from many a wound; For I have seen war's lightning flashing, Seen through red blood the war-horse dash ing, And scorn'd, amid the reeling strife, To yield a step for death or life. XXII. 'Tis done, 'tis done! that fatal blow3 And smooth his path from earth to heaven! ducted according to the strictest ordinances of chivalry, and delineated with all the minuteness of an ancient romancer. The modern reader will probably find it rather tedious; all but the concluding stanzas, which are in a loftier measure-'Tis done! 'tis done!" &c.-JEFFREY. XXIII. In haste the holy Friar sped;- Loose waved his silver beard and hair, He holds before his darkening eye; Still props him from the bloody sod, And bids him trust in God! Unheard he prays;-the death-pang's oer!1 Richard of Musgrave breathes no more. XXIV. As if exhausted in the fight, Or musing o'er the piteous sight, The silent victor stands; Mark'd not the shouts, felt not the grasp When lo! strange cries of wild surprise, Among the Scottish bands; Who downward from the castle ran: And all, upon the armed ground, "And who art thou," they cried, "Who hast this battle fought and won?"His plumed helm was soon undone "Cranstoun of Teviot-side! For this fair prize I've fought and won,”And to the Ladye led her son. XXV. Full oft the rescued boy she kiss'd, 1 Orig."Unheard he prays;—'tis o'er ! 'tis o'er !" The Ladye would the feud forego, And deign to bless the nuptial hour Of Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower XXVI. She look'd to river, look'd to hill, Thought on the Spirit's prophecy, Then broke her silence stern and still, "Not you, but Fate, has vanquish'd me; Their influence kindly stars may shower On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower, For pride is quell'd, and love is free."She took fair Margaret by the hand, Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she:"As I am true to thee and thine, Do thou be true to me and mine! This clasp of love our bond shall be; XXVII. All as they left the listed plain, He took on him the single fight. But half his tale he left unsaid, And linger'd till he join'd the maid.— But well she thought, ere midnight came, One day, fair maids, you'll know them well. XXVIII. William of Deloraine, some chance And taught that, in the listed plain, 2 The spectral apparition of a living person. And not a man of blood and breath. Not much this new ally he loved, Though rude, and scant of courtesy ; He ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow, And so 'twas seen of him, e'en now, Though half disguised with a frown; XXIX. "Now, Richard Musgrave, liest thou here! I ween, my deadly enemy; For, if I slew thy brother dear, Thou slew'st a sister's son to me; And when I lay in dungeon dark, Of Naworth Castle, long months three, Till ransom'd for a thousand mark, Dark Musgrave, it was long of thee. And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried, And thou wert now alive, as I, No mortal man should us divide, Till one, or both of us, did die: Yet rest thee God! for well I know I ne'er shall find a nobler foe. In all the northern counties here, Whose word is Snaffle, spur, and spear,1 Thou wert the best to follow gear! "Twas pleasure, as we look'd behind, To see how thou the chase could'st wind, Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way, And with the bugle rouse the fray !2 I'd give the lands of Deloraine, Dark Musgrave were alive again.”—3 XXX. So mourn'd he, till Lord Dacre's band Was heard the Minstrel's plaintive wail; "The lands, that over Ouse to Berwick forth do bear, Have for their blazon had, the snaffle, spur, and spear." Poly-Albion, Song 13 2 See Appendix, Note 3 W 3 "The style of the old romancers has been very successfully imitated in the whole of this scene; and the speech of Around, the horsemen slowly rode; With trailing pikes the spearmen trode; And thus the gallant knight they bore, Through Liddesdale to Leven's shore; Thence to Holme Coltrame's lofty nave, And laid him in his father's grave. THE harp's wild notes, though hush'd the song, After due pause, they bade him tell, Why he, who touch'd the harp so well, Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil, Wander a poor and thankless soil, When the more generous Southern Land Would well requite his skilful hand. The Aged Harper, howsoe'er Less liked he still, that scornful jeer The Lay of the Last Minstrel. CANTO SIXTH. I. BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down Deloraine, who, roused from his bed of sickness, rushes into the lists, and apostrophizes his fallen enemy, brought to our recollection, as well from the peculiar turn of expression in its commencement, as in the tone of sentiments which it conveys, some of the funebres orationes of the Mort Arthur."Critical Review. |