68	LAY OF  THE LAST MINSTREL.
A batter'd morion on his brow;
A leather jack, as fence enow,	65
On his broad shoulders loosely hung;
A border axe behind was slung;
His spear, six Scottish ells in length,
Seem'd newly dyed with gore;
His shafts and bow, of wondrous strength,	70
His hardy partner bore,
VI.
Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show
The tidings of the English foe:—
'Belted Will Howard is marching here,
And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear,—	75
And all the German hackbut-men,
Who have long lain at Askerten:
They cross'd the Liddel at curfew hour,
And burn'd my little lonely tower:
The fiend receive their souls ^ therefor!	80
It had not been burnt this year and more.
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight;
But I was chased the livelong night.
Black John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Graeme,	85
Fast upon my traces came,
Until I turn'd at Priesthaugh Scrogg,
And shot their horses in the bog,
Slew Fergus with my lance outright—
I had him long at high despite :	90
He drove my cows last Eastern's night.*
VII,
Now weary scouts from Liddesdale,
Fast hurrying in, confirm'd the tale;
As far as they could judge by ken,
Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand     95
Three thousand armed Englishmen—
Meanwhile, full many a warlike band,