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,