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Yet now remorse and awe he own'd;
When this strange scene of death he saw.
XXIV. The Knight breathed free in the morning
wind, And strove his hardihood to find : He was glad when he pass’d the tombstones
XXI. And when the priest his death-prayer had pray'd, Thus unto Deloraine he said :“Now, speed thee what thou hast to do, Or, Warrior, we may dearly rue ; For those, thou mayst not look upon, Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!" Then Deloraine, in terror, took From the cold hand the Mighty Book, With iron clasp'd, and with iron bound : He thought, as he took it, the dead man frown'd;' But the glare of the sepulchral light, Perchance, had dazzled the warrior's sight.
The sun had brightend the Carter's side;
Smiled Branksome Towers and Teviot's tide.* The wild birds told their warbling tale,
And waken'd every flower that blows; And peeped forth the violet pale,
And spread her breast the mountain rose. And lovelier than the rose so red,
Yet paler than the violet pale, She early left her sleepless bed,
The fairest maid of Teviotdale.
XXII. When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb, The night return'd in double gloom; For the moon had gone down, and the stars were
And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew,
And don her kirtle so hastilie ;
make, * Why tremble her slender fingers to tie ; Why does she stop, and look often around,
As she glides down the secret stair ;
As he rouses him up from his lair ;
light To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight.
XXIII. “Now, hie thee hence,” the Father said, “And when we are on death-bed laid, O may our dear Ladye, and sweet St. John, Forgive our souls for the deed we have done !"The Monk return'd him to his cell,
And many a prayer and penance sped; - When the convent met at the noontide bell
The Monk of St. Mary's aisle was dead !
1 See Appendix, Note 2 H. ? A mountain on the Border of England, above Jedburgh.
3 "How lovely and exhilarating is the fresh, cool morning landscape which relieves the mind after the horrors of the spellguarded tomb !"-ANNA SEWARD.
4 “How true, sweet, and original is this description of Margaret -- the trembling haste with which she attires her sell, descends, and speeds to the bower !” - ANNA SgWARD.
That Dwarf was scarce an earthly man,
Through all the Border, far and near.
He heard a voice cry, “ Lost ! lost ! lost !"
A leap, of thirty feet and three,
And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee. Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd; 'Tis said that five good miles he rade,
To rid him of his company;
To paint his faithful passion strove;
But never, never cease to love;
He was waspish, arch, and litherlie,
But well Lord Cranstoun served he:
An it had not been for his ministry.
Its lightness would my age reprove:
I may not, must not, sing of love.
To Mary's Chapel of the Lowes;
And he would pay his vows.
The trysting place was Newark lee.
They were three hundred spears and three.
And held his crested helm and spear :
See Appendix, Note 2 I.
I'll show you now ; observe him, follow him; * The idea of the imp domesticating himself with the first
But, once engaged, there you must stay and fix." person be met, and subjecting himself to that one's authority, It is observable that in the same play, Pug alludes to the is perfectly consonant to old opinions. Ben Jonson, in his play spareness of his diet. Mr. Scott's goblin, though “ waspish, of " Tèe Devil is an Ass,” has founded the leading incident arch, and litherlie," proves a faithful and honest retainer to of that comedy apon this article of the popular creed. A the lord, into whose service he had introduced himself. This Send, styled Pug, is ambitious for figuring in the world, and sort of inconsistency seems also to form a prominent part of the petitions his superior for permission to exhibit himself upon diabolic character. Thus, in the romances of the Round earth. The devil grants him a day-rule, but clogs it with this Table, we find Merlin, the son of a dovil, exerting himself condition,
most zealously in the cause of virtue and religion, the friend
and counsellor of King Arthur, the chastiser of wrongs, and “ Salan-Only thns more, I bind you
the scourge of the infidels. To serve the first man that you meet ; and him
3 See Appendix, Note 2 K.
Through Douglas-burn, up Yarrow stream,'
And that I might not sing of love ?How could I to the dearest theme, That ever warm’d a minstrel's dream,
So foul, so false a recreant prove! How could I name love's very name, Nor wake my heart to notes of flame!
XXXIV. And now, in Branksome's good green wood, As under the aged oak he stood, The Baron's courser pricks his ears, As if a distant noise he hears. The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, And signs to the lovers to part and fly; No time was then to yow or sigh. Fair Margaret through the hazel grove, Flew like the startled cushat-dove:: The Dwarf the stirrup held and rein; Vaulted the Knight on his steed amain, And, pondering deep that morning's scene, Rode eastward through the hawthorns green.
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
III. So thought Lord Cranstoun, as I ween, While, pondering deep the tender scene, He rode through Branksome's hawthorn green. But the page shouted wild and shrill,
And scarce his helmet could he don, When downward from the shady hill
A stately knight came pricking on.
His armor red with many a stain:
For it was William of Deloraine.
While thus he pour’d the lengthend tale,
IV. But no whit weary did he seem, When, dancing in the sunny beam, He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest ;) For his ready spear was in his rest. Few were the words, and stern and high,
That mark'd the foemen's feudal hate;
Gave signal soon of dire debate.
The Lay of the Last Minstrel.
I. And said I that my limbs were old, And said I that my blood was cold, And that my kindly fire was fled, And my poor wither'd heart was dead,
He sigh'd a sigh, and pray'd a prayer;
The sigh was to his ladye fair. Stout Deloraine nor sigh'd nor pray'd, Nor saint, nor ladye, call’d to aid; But he stoop'd his head, and couch'd his spear, And spurr'd his steed to full career.
1 See notes on The Douglas Tragedy in the Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 3.-ED.
9 The crest of the Cranstouns, in allusion to their name, is a crane dormant, holding a stone in his foot, with an emphatic border motto, Thou shalt want ere I roant.
The meeting of these champions proud Seem'd like the bursting thunder-cloud.
VI. Stern was the dint the Borderer lent! The stately Baron backwards bent; Bent backwards to his horse's tail, And his plumes went scattering on the gale; The tough ash spear, so stout and true, Into a thousand Ainders flew. But Cranstoun's lance, of more avail, Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer's mail ; Through shield, and jack, and acton, past, Deep in his bosom broke at last. Still sate the warrior saddle-fast, Till, stumbling in the mortal shock, Down went the steed, the girthing broke, Hurl'd on a heap lay man and horse. The Baron onward pass'd his course; Nor knew-so giddy roll'd his brainHis foe lay stretch'd upon the plain.
Would not yield to unchristen’d hand,
Lie senseless as the bloody clay,
And there beside the warrior stay, And tend him in his doubtful state, And lead him to Branksome castle-gate: His noble mind was inly moved For the kinsman of the maid he loved. * This shalt thou do without delay: No longer here myself may stay; Unless the swifter I speed away, Short shrift will be at my dying day.”
Man of age, thou smitest sore!"-ice
VIII. Away in speed Lord Cranstoun rode; The Goblin Page behind abode; His lord's command he ne'er withstood, Though small his pleasure to do good. As the corslet off he took, The dwarf espied the Mighty Book ! Much he marvell’d a knight of pride, Like a book-bosom'd priest should ride :: He thought not to search or stanch the wound, Until the secret he had found.
XI. Unwillingly himself he address’d, To do his master's high behest : He lifted up the living corse, And laid it on the weary horse; He led him into Branksome Hall, Before the beards of the warders all; And each did after swear and say, There only pass’d a wain of hay. He took him to Lord David's tower, Even to the Ladye's secret bower; And, but that stronger spells were spread, And the door might not be opened, He had laid him on her very bed. Whate'er he did of gramarye, Was always done maliciously; He Aung the warrior on the ground, And the blood well’d freshly from the wound.
IX. The iron band, the iron clasp, Resisted long the elfin grasp: For when the first he had undone, It closed as he the next begun. Those iron clasps, that iron band,
XII. As he repass’d the outer court, He spied the fair young child at sport: He thought to train him to the wood;
1 See Appendix, Note 2 L. ? Magical delusion.
3 A shepherd's hut. 6 Ibid. Note 2 N.
4 See Appendix, Note 2 M.
For, at a word, be it understood,
At cautious distance hoarsely bay'd,
But still in act to spring; When dash’d an archer through the glade, And when he saw the hound was stay'd,
He drew his tough bow-string; But a rough voice cried, “Shoot not, hoy! Ho! shoot not, Edward—"Tis a boy!"
Until they came to a woodland brook;
And his own elvish shape he took. Could he have had his pleasure vilde, He had crippled the joints of the noble child; Or, with his fingers long and lean, Had strangled him in fiendish spleen: But his awful mother he had in dread, And also his power was limited; So he but scowl'd on the startled child, And darted through the forest wild; The woodland brook he bounding cross'd, And laugh’d, and shouted, “ Lost ! lost ! lost !"
And quell’d the ban-dog's ire:
And born iņ Lancashire.
Five hundred feet him fro;
No archer bended bow.
Set off his sun-burn'd face:
His barret-cap did grace;
All in a wolf-skin baldric tied;
And frighten'd as a child might be,
And the dark words of gramarye, The child, amidst the forest bower, Stood rooted like a lily flower; And when at length, with trembling pace,
He sought to find where Branksome lay, He fear'd to see that grisly face,
Glare from some thicket on his way.
Reach'd scantly to his knee;
A furbish'd sheaf bore he ;
No larger fence had he ;
Would strike below the knee:
Now, by St. George,” the archer cries, “ Edward, methinks we have a prize! This boy's fair face, and courage free, Show he is come of high degree.”
XV. And hark! and hark! the deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still, and nigher:
And his red eye shot fire.
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 Southron, thou shalt dearly rue! For Walter of Harden shall come with speed,
· See Appendix, Note 20,
Note 2 P