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THE LAY
OF
THE LAST MINSTREL
2 poem
IN SIX CANTOS
Vu/Ji relego. scn'psisse pudtt ; quia pbiriiita cerno,
Me qitoque, qui feci, judice, digna lint.
THE LAY
THE LAST MINSTREL
SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
JUustrateJj
BOSTON
TICKNOR AND COMPANY
18S7
Copyright, 1SS6,
By Ticknor and Company.
Ait rights reserved.
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE
CHARLES
EARL OF DALKEITH
THIS
POEM IS INSCRIBED
BY
THE AUTHOR.
3tist of BJustmtions.
Drawn, engraved, and printed under the stipervision of A. V. S. Anthony.
" She gazed upon the inner court,
Which in the tower's tall shadow lay " Fronthjnece
Tailpiece 14
Headpiece 15
Tailpiece 15
Vignette 16
Half Title 17
Illustrated Heading 31
" The way was long, the wind was cold.
The minstrel was infirm and old " 21
" He passed where Newark's stately tower
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower" 23
Tailpiece 26
Illustrated Heading 27
" The tables wei'e drawn, it was idlesse all ;
Knight and page and household squire
Loitered tlirougli the lofty hall
Or crowded round the ample fire " 29
Naworth Castle 31
" All loose her negligent attire,
All loose her golden hair,
Hung JIargaret o'er her slaughtered sire.
And wept in wild despair" 33
10 ILL US TEA TIOA'S.
Branksome Tuekets 35
The Spirit of tue Fell 36
" A fancied moss-trooper, the boy
The truncheon of a spear bestrode,
And round the hall right merrily
In mimic foray rode " 39
" Eastward tlie wooded path he rode,
Green hazels o'er his basnet nod " 43
" Cliffs, which for many a later year
The warbling Doric reed shall hear " 44
Tailpiece 47
Illustrated Heading 51
" If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright.
Go visit it by the pale mounligbt " 52
" Again on the knight looked the churchman old,
And again he sighed heavily,
Por he had himself been a warrior bold,
And fought in Spain and Italy " 55
Liddesdale 57
A Corner in the Abbey 58
Eildon Hills 00
The Secket Nook 63
" I would you had been there to see
How the light broke forth so gloriously.
Streamed upward to the chancel roof.
And through the galleries far aloof " 64
" And soon, beneath the rising day,
Smiled Branksome towers and Teviot's tide " 67
ILLUSTRATIONS. 11
" The knight and ladye fair are met.
And under the hawthorn's bows are set.
A fairer pair were never seen
To meet beneath the hawtliorn green " 71
" Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld,
The Baron's dwarf his courser held.
And held his crested helm and spear " 73
Yarrow's Stream 75
Tailpiece 76
Illustrated Headino 81
" But he stooped his head, and couched his spear.
And spurred his steed to full career.
Tlie meeting of these champions proud
Seemed like the bursting thunder-cloud " 83
" And shook his iinge and matted head;
One word he muttered, and no more, —
' Man of age, thou smitest sore !' " 87
" The child, amidst the forest bowei%
Stood rooted like a lily flower" 90
" And hark ! and hark ! tiie deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still and nigher ;
Bursts on the path a dark bloodhound " 91
" The speaker issued from the wood.
And checked his fellow's surly mood,
And quelled the ban-dog"s ire " 93
" ' Meantime, be pleased to come with me,
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see ;
I think our work is well begun,
When we have taken thy father's son' " 93
" E'en the rude watchman on the tower
Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour " 93
" Fair Margaret, from the turret head.
Heard far below the coursers' tread
While loud the harness runo- " 101
12 ILLUSTBATIONS.
" For a sheet of flame from the turret liigli
Waved like a blood-flag on the sky " 103
Tailpiece 105
The Broken Haep 106
Illustrated Heading , 109
" The frightened fiocks and herds were pent
Beneath the peel's rude battlement " Ill
" They crossed the Liddel at curfew hour,
And burned my little lonely tower :
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight " 113
A Gate at Beanksome 117
" From Woodhouselie to Chester-glen,
Trooped man and horse, and bow and spear " 120
" Full fast the urchin ran and laughed,
But faster still a cloth-yard shaft
Whistled from startled Tinlinn's yew,
And pierced his shoulder through and through " 122
" The wicket opes, and from the wall
Rides forth the hoary seneschal " 127
" He ceased — and loud the boy did cry,
And stretched his little arms on high.
Implored for aid each well-known face " 130
" Already on dark Euberslaw
The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw " 133
" The pursuivant-at-arms again
Before the castle took his stand ;
His trumpet called with parleying strain
The leaders of tlie Scottish band " 135
Kelso Abbey 139
Illustrated Heading 143
ILLUSTRATIONS. 13
"Now squire and knight, from Branksonie sent,
On many a courteous message went " 1-iG
" But yet on Branksome's towers and town,
In peaceful merriment, sunk down
The sun's declining ray " 149
" He w-alks through Branksome's hostile towers,
Witli fearless step and free " 152
" Himself, the Knight of Deloraine,
Strong, as it seemed, and free from pain.
In armor sheathed from top to toe,
Appeared, and craved the combat due " 153
The Herald's Trumpet 158
" 'Tis done, 'tis done! that fatal blow
Has stretched him on the bloody plain " 1()0
" She took fair Margaret by the hand,
Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand :
That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave siie " IG-i
" Hence, to the field unarmed he ran,
And hence his presence scared the clan " 166
" ' I 'd give the lands of Deloraine,
Dark Musgrave were alive again ' " 168
Tailpiece 169
Illustrated Heading 173
" The minstrels came, at festive call ;
Trooping they came from near and far
The jovial priests of mirth and war " 173
" And in the lofty arched hall
"Was spread the gorgeous festival " 178
" At unawares he wrought him harm,
From trencher stole his choicest cheer,
Dashed from his lips his can of beer " 181
14 ILL US TEA TIOXS.
Carlisle's Wall ^g^,
"Naworth's iron towers,
Windsor's green glades and courtly bowers " 1S6
" And pensive read fiom tablet ebiirnine
Some strain that seemed her inmost soul to find " 1S8
•■ Still nods their palace to its fall,
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall '' 190
EosLiN Castle 193
"And on the spot where burst the brand.
Just where the page had flung him down " 196
"With naked foot and sackcloth vest.
And arras enfolded on his breast,
Did every pilgrim go " I99
" The holy fathers, two and two,
In long procession came " oqi
Tailpiece : Braxksome 0
04
^^:
Sl)e pratoings .xrc bn
W. St. Joiix Hakper. E. H. Garrett. F. Myrick.
F. T. Merrill. L. S. Ipsen.
el)e (Cngraijingsi arc bg
A. T. S. AxTHoxY. John Andrew and Sox. H. E. Sylvester.
H. W. Lyouxs. G. E. Johxson.
>
CANTO THE FIRST.
The way was long, the wind was cold,
The Minstrel was infirm and old ;
His withered cheek and tresses gray-
Seemed to have known a better day ;
The harp, his sole remaining joy,
22 INTRODUCTION.
"Was carried by an orjihan boy.
The last of all the bards was he,
Who sung of Border chivalry ;
For, well-a-day! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead ;
And he, neglected and oppressed,
Wished to be with them, and at rest.
No more on prancing palfrey borne,
He carolled, light as lark at morn ;
No longer courted and caressed,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest.
He poured, to lord and lady gay.
The unpremeditated lay :
Old times were changed, old manners gone:
A stranger filled the Stuart's throne ;
The bigots of the iron time
Had called his harmless art a crime.
A wandering harper, scorned and poor.
He begged his bread from door to door,
And tuned, to please a peasant's ear,
The harp a king had loved to hear.
He passed where Newark's stately tower
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower :
The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye —
No humbler resting-place was nigh.
With hesitating step at last,
IXTBODUCTION.
23
The ciul>attled portal arch he passed,
Whose ponderous grate and massy bar
Had oft rolled back the tide of war,
But never closed the iron door
Against the desolate and poor.
The Duchess marked his weary pace,
His timid mien, and revei'end face,
And bade her page the menials tell
That they should tend the old man well :
For she had known adversity.
Though born in such a high degree ;
24 INTBODUCTIOX.
In pride of power, in beauty's bloom,
Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb !
When kindness had his wants supplied.
And the old man was gratified,
Began to rise his minstrel pride ;
And he began to talk anon
Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone,
And of Earl Walter, rest him God !
A braver ne'er to battle rode ;
And how full many a tale he knew.
Of the old warriors of Buccleuch :
And, would the noljle Duchess deign
To listen to an old man's strain.
Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak,
He thought even yet, the sooth to speak,
That, if she loved the harp to hear.
He could make music to her ear.
The humble boon was soon obtained;
The aged Minstrel audience gained.
But, wlien he reached the room of state,
Where she with all her ladies sate,
Perchance he wished his boon denied:
For, when to tune his harp he tried,
His trembling hand had lost the ease
Which marks security to please;
INTBODUCTIOJSf. 25
And scenes, long past, of joy and pain,
Came wildering o'er his aged brain —
He tried to tune his harp in vain.
The })itying Duchess praised its chime.
And gave hiin heart, and gave him time.
Till every string's according glee
Was blended into harmony.
And then, he said, he would full fain
He could recall an ancient strain
He never thought to sing again.
It was n(jt framed for village churls.
But for high dames and mighty earls;
He had played it to King Charles the Good,
When he kei)t court in Holyrood ;
And much he wished, yet feared, to trv
The long-forgotten melody.
Amid the strings his fingers strayed,
And an uncertain warbling made,
And oft he shook his hoary head.
But when he caught the measure wild,
The old man raised his face, and smiled ;
And lightened uj) his faded eye
"With all a poet's ecstasy !
In varying cadence, soft or strong.
He swept the sounding chords along:
The present scene, the future lot.
His toils, his wants, were all forgot ;
26
IXTEODUCTION.
Cold diftkleiice, and age's frost,
In the full tide of song were lost ;
Each blank, in faithless memory void.
The poet's glowing thought supplied ;
And, while his harp responsive rung,
'T was thus the Latest Mixstrel sung.
The feast was over in Brauksome tower,
And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ;
Her bower that was guarded by word and by spell,
Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell —
Jesu Maria, shield us well I
No living wight, save the Ladye alone,
Had dared to cross the threshold stone.
II.
The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all ;
Knight and page and household squire
Loitered throua'h the lofty hall,
28 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto i.
Or crowded round the ample fire :
The stag-hounds, weary with the chase,
Lay stretched upon the rushy floor.
And urged in dreams the forest race,
From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor.
III.
Nine-and-twcnty knights of fame
Ilung their shields in LJranksome Hall ;
Nine-and-twenty squires of name
Brought them their steeds to liower from stall ;
Ninc-and-twenty yeomen tall
Waited, duteous, on them all :
They were all knights of mettle true,
Kinsmen to the bold Bucclcuch.
IV.
Ten of them were sheathed in steel.
With l)elted sword, and spur on heel:
Tiioy quitted not their harness bright.
Neither by day, nor yet by night:
They lay down to rest.
With corslet laced,
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard ;
They carved at tlie meal
With gloves of steel.
And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.
CANTO I. LAV OF THE LAST MIXSTREL.
29
V.
Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men,
Waited the beck of the warders ten ;
Thirty steeds, botii fleet and wight,
Stood saddled in stable day and night,
Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow,
And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow ;
A hundred more fed free in stall —
Such was the custom of Branlvsonie Hall.
30 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CAt
YI.
Why do these steeds stand ready dight ?
Wliy watch these warriors, armed, by niglit? —
They watch, to hear the blood-hound baying ;
They watch, to hear the war-horn braying;
To see St. George's red cross streaming,
To see the midnight beacon gleaming ;
They watch, against .Southern force and guile,
Lest Scroop, or Howard, or Percy's jjowers,
Threaten Branksome's lurdly towers.
From Warkwoi'th, or Naworth, or meri'y Carlisle.
VII.
Such is the custom of Brnnksomc Hall. —
Many a valiant knight is here ;
But he, the chieftain of tlicm all.
His sword hangs rusting on the wall
Beside his broken sjjcar.
Bards long shall tell
How Lord Walter fell !
Wlien startled burghers lied afar
The furies of the Border war :
When the streets of high Dunedin
Saw lances gleam and falchions redden.
And lieard the slogan's deadly yell, —
Then the Chief of Branksome fell.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTIIEL.
31
Can piety the discord heal,
Or stanch the death-feud's enmity ?
Can Christian lore, can patriot zeal,
(_!an love of blessed charity ?
No ! vainly to each holy shrine
111 mutnal jjilgrimage they drew.
Implored in vain the grace divine
For chiefs tiicir own red falchions slew.
While Cessford owns the rule of Carr,
While Ettrick boasts the lino of Scott,
•32 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTBEL.
The slaughtered chiefs, the mortal jar,
The havoc of the feudal war,
Shall never, never be forgot!
IX.
In sorrow o'er Lord Walter's liier
The warlike foresters luid l>ent :
And many a tiower and many a tear
(Jld Teviot's mai<ls and matrons lent:
But o'er her warrior's lilnody Ijier
The Ladye dro]i]ied n(n- tiower nor tear !
Vengeance, deeji-l.irooding o'er the slain,
Had locked the source of softer woe.
And burning jn-ide and high disdain
Forbade the rising tear to fli.iw ;
Until, amid his sorrowing clan.
Her son lisped from the nurse's knee —
" And if I live to be a man.
My father's death revenged shall l)e ! "
Then fast the mother's tears did seek
To dew the infant's kindling cheek.
X.
All loose her negliii'ent attire,
All loose her golden hair.
Hung Margaret o'er her slaughtered sire.
And wept in wild despair.
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTllEL.
33
But not aluiio the Ijitter tear
Had filial grief supplied,
For hopeless love and anxious fear
Had lent their mingled tide;
Xor in her niotlu'r's altered eve
Dared she to look for sympathy.
Her lover, 'gainst her father's clan.
With Carr in arms had stood.
When Jlathouse-hurn to Melrose ran,
3
34 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
All purple with their blood ;
And well she knew her mother dread,
Before Lord Cranstoun she shcndd wed,
Would see her on her dying bed.
XI.
Of noble race the Ladye came.
Her father was a clerk of fame.
Of Bethune's line of Picardie :
He learned the art that none may name
In Padua, far lieyond the sea.
Men said he changed his mortal frame
By feat of magic mystery ;
For when, in studious mood, he paced
St. Andrew's cloistered hall.
His form no darkening shadow traced
Upon the sunny wall !
XII.
And of his skill, as bards avow,
He taught that Ladye fair,
Till to her bidding .she could bow
The viewless forms of air.
And now she sits in secret bower,
In old Lord David's western tower,
And listens to a heavy sound
That moans the mossy turrets round.
LAY OF THE LAST MI N STEEL.
Is it the roar of Teviot's tide,
That chafes against the scaur's red side ?
Is it the wind, that swings the oaks ?
Is it the echo from the rocks ?
What may it be, the heavy sound.
That moans old Branksome's turrets round ?
XIII.
At the sullen, moaning sound
The ban-dogs bay and howl.
And from the turrets round
Loud whoops the startled owl.
In the hall, both squire and knight
Swore that a storm was near,
And looked forth to view the night ;
But the nisiht was still and clear I
y
36
LAY OF THE LAST MIX ST EEL.
XIV.
Fi'om the sound of Tcviot's tide,
Chafing with the mountain's side,
From the groan of the wind-swung oak,
From the sullen echo of the rock,
From the voice of the coming storm,
The Ladye knew it well!
It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke,
And he called on the Sj)irit of the Fell.
XV.
RIVER SPIRIT.
" Sleep'st thou, hi-other V "' —
MOUNTAIN' SPIRIT.
" Brother, nay — ■
On my hills the moonl)eams ]ilay.
From Craik-cross to Skelfhill-pcn,
By every rill, in every glen,
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 37
Merry elves their morris pacing,
To aerial minstrelsy,
Emerald rings on brown lioatli tracing,
Trip it deft and merrily.
Up, and mark their nimble feet !
Up, and list their music sweet ! " —
XVI.
RIVER SPIRIT.
" Tears of an imprisoned maiden
Mi.x; with my polluted stream ;
Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden.
Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam.
Tell me, thou who view'st the stars,
When shall cease these feudal jars ?
What shall be the maiden's fate ?
Who shall be the maiden's mate ? "
XVII.
MOUNTAIN SPIRIT.
"Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll
In utter darkness round the pole ;
The Northern Bear lowers black and grim ;
Orion's studded belt is dim ;
Twinkling faint, and distant far,
Sliimmers through mist each planet star ;
38 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
Ill may I read their liiu'li decree !
But no kind iutluciice deign they shower
On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower
Till pride be quelled and love be free."
XVIII.
The unearthly voices ceased,
And the heavy sound was still ;
It died on the river's breast,
It died on the side of the hill.
But round Lord David's tower
The sound still floated near ;
For it i-uno- in the Ladye's l)ower.
And it rung in the Ladye's car.
She raised her stately head,
And her heart throl)l)ed high Avith pride : •
'' Your mountains shall Ijcnd,
And your streams ascend,
Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride ! "
XIX.
The Ladye sought the lofty hall.
Where many a l)old retainer lay.
And with jocund din, among them all.
Her son pursued his infant play.
A fancied moss-ti-oopcr, the boy
The truncheon of a spear bestrode,
CANTO I. LAY OF THE LAST 3nNSTREL.
39
And round the hall right merrily
In mimic foray rode.
Even bearded knights, in arms grown old.
Share in his frolic gambols bore,
Albeit their hearts of rugged mould
Were stubborn as tlie steel ther wore.
40 LAY OF THE LAST MIX STEEL. c
For the gray warriors proj^hesied
How the brave boy, in future war,
Should tame the Uuicorii's jiride,
Exalt the Crescents and the Star.
XX.
The Ladye forgot her purpose high
One moment, and no more ;
One moment gazed witli a mother's eye.
As she paused at the arched door:
Then from amid the armed train
She called to her William of Deloraine.
XXI.
A stark moss-trooping Scott was he,
As e'er couched Border lance by knee :
Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss.
Blindfold he knew the paths to cross ;
By wily turns, by desperate bounds,
Had Viafflcd Percy's best blood-hounds ;
In Eske or Liddel fords were none
But he would ride them, one by one ;
Alike to him was time or tide,
December's snow or July's pride ;
Alike to him was tide or time,
Moonless midnight or matin prime :
Steady of heart and stout of hand
LAY OF TEE LAST MLN STEEL. 41
As ever drove pre}' from Ciimljerland ;
Five times outlawed had he been,
By England's king and Scotland's queen.
XXII.
" Sir William of Deloraine, good at need,
Mount thee on the wightest steed ;
Spare not to spur nor stint to ride
Until thou come to fair Tweedside ;
And in Melrose's holy pile
Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle.
Greet the father well from me ;
Say that the fated hour is come,
And to-night he shall watch with thee.
To win the treasure of the tomb :
For this will be St. Michael's night,
And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright ;
And the Cross, of bloody red,
Will point to the grave of the mighty dead.
XXIII.
"What he gives thee, see thou keep;
Stay not thou for food or sleep :
Be it scroll or be it liook,
Into it, knight, thou must not look ;
If thou readest, thou art lorn !
Better hadst thou ne'er been boi-n." —
42
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTKEL.
XXIV.
" 0 swiftly can speed my dapple-gray steed,
Which drinks of the Teviot clear ;
Ere Ijreak of day," the warrior gan say,
" Again will I be here :
And safer by none may thy errand be done,
Than, noble dame, l)y me;
Letter nor line know I never one,
"Were 't my neclv-verse at Plairibee."
XXV.
Soon in his saddle sate he fast.
And soon the steep descent he passed.
Soon crossed the sounding bai'bican,
And soon the Teviot side he won.
Eastward the wooded path he rode.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 43
Green hazels o'er his basnet nod ;
He passed the Peel of Goldiland,
And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand ;
Dimly ho viewed the Moat-hilFs mound,
Where Druid shades still flitted round :
In Hawick twinkled many a light ;
Behind him soon they set in night;
And soon he spurred his courser keen
Beneath the tower of Ilazeldean.
XXVI.
The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark : —
" Stand, ho ! thou courier of the dark." —
" For Branksome, ho ! " the knight rejoined.
And left the friendly tower behind.
He turned him now from Teviotside,
And, guided by the tinkling rill.
Northward the dark ascent did ride.
And gained the moor at Horsliehill ;
Broad on the left before him lay
For many a mile the Roman way.
XXVII.
A moment now he slacked his speed,
A moment breathed his panting steed,
Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band.
And loosened in the sheath his brand.
44
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTHEL.
On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint,
"Where Barnhill hewed his bed of tiint :
Who flung Ids outhiwed limbs to rest,
Where falcons hang their giddy nest
Mid cliffs from whence his eagle Qyc
For many a league his i)rey could spy :
Cliffs douliling, on theii-
echoes borne,
The terrors of the
roljbcr's liorn ;
Cliffs which for many
a later year
Tlie warbling Doric
U( d •>h dl h( u ,
Wlien some sad swain shall teacli the grove
Ambition is no cure for love I
3 1. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 45
XXVIII.
Unchallenged, thence passed Deloraiiie
To ancient Riddel's fair domain,
Wliere Aill, from mountains freed,
Down from tlic lakes did raring come ;
Each wave was crested with tawnj foam.
Like the mane of a chestnut steed.
In vain ! no torrent, deep or broad.
Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road.
XXIX.
At the first plunge the horse sunk low.
And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow:
Above the foaming tide, I ween,
Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ;
For he was barded from coimter to tail.
And the rider was armed complete in mail ;
Never heavier man and horse
Stemmed a midnight torrent's force.
The warrior's very plume, I say.
Was daggled by the dashing spray;
Yet, through good heart and Our Ladye's grace.
At length he gained the landing-place.
XXX.
Now Bowden Moor the march-man won,
And sternly shook his plumed head.
46 £AY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL. c.
As glanced his eye o'er Halidon ;
For on his soul the slaughter red
Of that unhallowed morn arose,
When first the Scott and Carr were foes ;
When royal James beheld the fray,
Prize to the victor of the day ;
When Home and Douglas, in the van.
Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan,
Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear
Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear.
XXXI.
In bitter mood be spurred fast.
And soon the hated heath was past ;
And far beneath, in lustre wan.
Old Melros' rose and fair Tweed ran:
Like some tall rock with lichens gray.
Seemed, dimly huge, the dark Abbaye.
When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung,
Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung.
The sound, upon the fitful gale,
In solemn wise did rise and fail,
Like tliat wild harp whose magic tone
Is wakened by the winds alone.
But when Melrose he reached, 't was silence all ;
He meetly stabled his steed in stall.
And souo'ht the convent's lonely wall.
ZAF OF THE LAST 2IIXSTEEL. 47
Here paused the harp ; and with its swell
The Master's fire and courage fell :
Dejectedly and low he bowed,
And, gazing timid on the crowd,
He seemed to seek, in every eye,
If they approved his minstrelsy ;
And, diffident of present praise,
Somewhat he spoke of former days.
And how old age and wandering long
Had done his hand and harp some wrong. .
The Duchess, and her daughters fair.
And every gentle lady there,
Each after each, in due degree.
Gave praises to his melody ;
His hand was true, his voice was clear,
And much they longed the rest to hear.
Encouraged thus, the aged man.
After meet rest, again began.
CANTO THE SECOND,
If tliou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale mooiiliglit ;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
When the broken arches arc black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white ;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower ;
When buttress and buttress, alternately.
Seem framed of eljon and ivory ;
When silver edges the imagery.
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ;
When distant Tweed is heard to rave.
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave,
Then go — Ijut go alone the while —
52
LAV OF THE LAST MIXSTBEL.
h.^ ^ v>j^A,^)Sjr^v%4J^!f ^»4. j
Then view St. Daviil's mined pile;
And, home returning', soothly swear,
Was iiCTer scene so sad and fair !
II.
Short halt did Deloraine make tlicre ;
Little recked he of the scene so fair :
With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong,
He struck full loud, and struck full long.
The porter hurried to the gate —
CANTO II. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 53
"Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?" —
"From Branksomo I," the warrior cried;
And straight the wicket opened wide :
For Branksome's chiefs had in battle stood,
To fence the rights of fair Melrose;
And lands and livings, many a rood.
Had gifted the shrine for their souls' repose.
III.
Bold Deloraine his errand said ;
The porter Ijcnt his humble head ;
With torch in hand, and feet unshod,
And noiseless step, the path he trod :
The arched cloister, far and wide.
Rang to the warrior's clanking stride.
Till, stooping low his lofty crest.
He entered the cell of the ancient priest.
And lifted his barred aventayle.
To hail the Monk of St. Mary's aisle.
IV.
" The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me ;
Says that the fated hour is come.
And that to-night I shall watch with thee,
To win the treasure of the tomb."
From sackclotli couch the monk arose.
With toil his stiffened limbs he reared ;
54 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. caxto
A liundrod years had flung their snows
On his thin locks and floating beard.
V.
And strangely on the knight looked he,
And his blue eyes gleamed 'wild and wide ;
" And darest thou, warrior, seek to see
What heaven and hell alike would hide ?
My breast in belt of iron pent,
With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn.
For threescore years, in ])enance spent.
My knees those flinty stones have worn ;
Yet all too little to atone
For knowing what should ne'er be known.
Wouldst thou thy every future year
In ceaseless prayer and penance drie,
Yet wait thy latter end with fear —
Then, daring warrior, follow me ! " —
VI.
" Penance, father, will I none ;
Prayer know I hardly one ;
For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry,
Save to patter an Ave Mary,
When I ride on a Border foray.
Other prayer can I none ;
So speed me my errand, and let me be gone." —
CANTO II. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL.
55
VII.
Again on the knight loo]<ed tlic clna-chman old,
And again he sighed heavily ;
For he had himself been a warrior bold,
And fought in Sjiain and Italy.
And he thought on the days that were long since by.
When his limbs were strong, and liis courage was high : —
Now, slow and faint, he led the way
Where, cloistered round, the garden lay ;
The pillared arches were over their head,
And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.
56 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
VIII.
Spreading herbs and flowerets bright
Glistened with the dew of night ;
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there
But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair.
The monk gazed long on tlie lovel}' moon,
Then into the niglit he looked forth ;
And red and bright the streamers light
Were dancing in the glowing north.
So had he seen, in fair Castile,
The youth in glittering S(juadrons start,
Sudden the flying jennet wheel,
And hurl the unexpected dart.
He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright,
That spirits were riding the northern light.
IX.
By a steel-clenched postern door
They entered now the chancel tall ;
The darkened roof rose high aloof
On pillars lofty and light and small:
The key-stone that locked each ribbed aksle
Was a fleur-de-lys or a quatre-feuille ;
The corbels were carved grotesque and grim ;
And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim,
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
hi
With base and with capital flourished around,
Seemed bundles of lances which orarlands had bound.
Full many a scutcheon and banner riven
Shook to the cold night wind of heaven,
Around the screened altar's pale ;
And there the dying lamps did burn
Before thy low and lonely urn,
0 srallant Chief of Otterburne !
And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale !
0 fading honors of the dead !
0 high ambition, lowly laid I
XI.
The moon on the east oriel shone
Through slender shafts of shapely stone,
58
LAY OF TEE LAST MIXSTEEL.
By foliaged tracery combined ;
Thou wouldst have thought some fairj''s hand
'Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand
In many a frealcisli l-cnot Iiad twined,
Tlien framed a spell wlien the ■u'ork was done,
And changed the willow-wreaths to stone.
The silver light, so pale and faint,
Sliowed many a prophet and many a saint,
Whose image on the glass was dyed ;
Full in the midst, his Cross of Red
Triumi>hant Michael brandished,
iVnd trampled the Ajiostate's pride.
The moonbeam kissed tlie holy pane.
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain.
XII.
They sate tliem down on a marble stone, —
A Scottish monarcli slept below ;
ZAF OF THE LAST MIXSTREL. 59
Thus spoke the monk in solemn tone :
" I was not always a man of woe ;
For Pajnim countries I have trod,
And fought beneath the Cross of God :
Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear.
And their iron elang sounds strange to my ear.
XIII.
,/
/'" In these far climes it was my lot
//
I To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ;
A wizard of such dreaded fame
. That when, in .Salamanca's cave,
t Him listed his magic wand to wave,
\The bells would ring in Notre Dame !
Some of his skill he taught to me ;
And, warrior, I could say to thee
Tlie words that cleft Eildon hills in three,
And In-idled the Tweed with a curb of stone:
But to speak them were a deadly sin ;
And for having but thought them my heart within,
A treble penance must be done.
XIV.
•• When Michael lay on his dying bed.
His conscience was awakened ;
He bethought him of his sinful deed.
And lie gave me a sign to come with speed :
60
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTIIEL.
I was in iSpaiu wlieu the morning rose,
Bnt I stood by his bed ere evening close.
Tiie words may not again l)e said
Tliat he spoke to me, on death-bed laid ;
They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave,
And pile it in heajis aljovc his grave.
XA'.
" I swore to Imry his Migiity Book,
That never mortal miglit therein look ;
And never to tell where it was hid.
Save at his chief of Branksome's need :
And when that need was [last and o'er,
Again the volume to restore.
I II. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 61
I buried him on Saint Michael's night,
When the bell tolled one and the moon was Ijright,
And 1 dug his chamber among the dead,
When the floor of the chancel was stained red,
That his patron's cross might over him wave,
And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave.
XVI.
" It was a night of woe and dread
When Michael in the tomb I laid ;
Strange sounds along the chancel passed,
The banners waved without a Ijlast " — -
Still spoke the monk, when the IjcU tolled one ! —
I tell yon, that a braver man
Than William of Deloraine, good at need,
Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed ;
Yet somewhat was he chilled Avith dread.
And his hair did bristle upon his head.
XVII.
" Lo, warrior ! now, the Cross of Red
Points to the grave of the mightj- dead :
Within it burns a wondrous light.
To chase the spirits that love the night :
That lamp shall burn unquenchably.
Until the eternal doom shall be."
Slow moved the monk to the broad flag-stone
62 LAY OF THE LAST MLNSTEEL.
Which the bloody cross was traced upon :
He pointed to a secret nook ;
An iron bar the warrior took ;
And tlie monk made a sign witli his withered hand,
Tlic grave's huge portal to exiiand.
XVIII.
With beating heart to the task he went;
His sinewy frame o'er the gravestone bent ;
With liar of iron heaved amain,
Till the toil-drops fell from his brows like rail
It was by dint of passing strength
I. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. 63
That he moved the massy stone at length.
I would you had been there to see
How the light broke forth so gloriously,
Streamed upward to the chancel roof,
And through the galleries far aloof !
No earthly flame blazed e'er so bright :
It shone like heaven's own blessed light,
And, issuing from the tomb,
Showed the monk's cowl and visage pale,
Danced on the dark-browed warrior's mail,
And kissed his waving plume
XIX.
Before their eyes the Wizard lay.
As if he had not been dead a day.
His hoary beard in silver rolled,
He seemed some seventy winters old ;
A palmer's amice wrapped him round.
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea :
His left hand held his Book of Might,
A silver cross was in his right ;
The lamp was placed beside his knee ;
High and majestic was his look,
At which the fellest fiends had shook,
And all unruffled was his face :
They trusted his soul had gotten grace.
G4
LAY OF THE LAST MISSTEEL. canto ii.
XX.
Often had "William of Peloraine
Rode through the hattlc's bloody plain,
And trampled down the warriors slain,
And neither known remorse nor awe,
Yet now remorse and awe he owned ;
His breath came thick, his head swam round.
When this strange scene of death he saw.
CANTO II. LAY OF THE LAST MIKSTEEL. 65
Bewildered and unnerved he stood,
And the priest prayed fervently and loud:
With eyes averted prayed he ;
He might not endure the sight to see
Of the man he had loved so brotherly.
And when the priest his death-prayer had prayed,
Thus unto Deloraine he said :
" Now, speed tiiee 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 JMighty Book,
With iron clasped and with iron bound :
He thought, as he took it, the dead man frowned ;
But the glare of the sepulchral light
Perchance had dazzled the warrior's sight.
XXII.
When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb.
The night returned in double gloom,
For the moon had gone down, and the stars were few ;
And as the knight and priest withdrew,
With wavering steps and dizzy brain.
They hardly might the postern gain.
66 LAY OF THE LAST MISSTIiEL.
'T is said, as through the aisles they passed,
Tliey heard strange noises on tlic blast ;
And through the cloister-galleries small.
Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall,
Loud sobs, and laughter louder, i-an.
And voices unlike the voice of man;
As if the fiends kept holiday.
Because these spells were Ijrought to day.
I cannot tell how the truth may be ;
I say the talc as 't was said to me.
" Now, hie thee hence," the father said,
" And when we are on death-bed laid,
0 may our dear Ladye and sweet Saint John
Forgive our souls for the deed we have done ! " —
The monk returned 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 !
Before the cross was the body laid,
With hands clasi)ed fast, as if still he prayed.
XXIV.
The knight breathed free in the morning wind.
And strove his hardihood to find :
He was glad when he passed the tombstones gray
LAY OF THE LAST MLXSTREL.
67
Which girdle round the fair Abbaye ;
For tlie mystic book, to his bosom pressed,
Felt like a load upon his breast ;
And his joints, with nerves of iron twined,
Shook like the aspen leaves in wind.
Full fain was he when the dawn of day
Began to brighten Cheviot gray ;
He joyed to see tlie cheerful light,
And he said Ave Mary as well as he might.
XXV.
The sun had brightened Cheviot gray,
The sun had brightened the Cartei-'s side ;
And soon beneath the rising day
Smiled Branksome towers and Teviot's tide.
LAY OF THE LAST MLNSTREL. canto
The wild birds told their warbling- tale,
And wakened 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 ]iale,
She early left her sleepless bed,
The fairest maid of Teviotdale.
XXVI.
Why does fair ilaru'arct so early awake,
And don her kirtlc so hastilie ;
And the silken knots, which in hurry she would make.
Why tremble her slender fingers to tie ;
Why does she stop, and look often around.
As she glides down the secret stair ;
And why docs she pat the shaggy blood-hound.
As he rouses him up from his lair ;
And, though she passes the ]30stern alone.
Why is not the watchman's bugle blown ?
XXVII.
The ladyc steps in doubt and dread
Lest her watchful mother hear her treail ;
The ladye caresses the rough blood-hound
Lest his voice should waken the castle round ;
The watchman's bugle is not blown.
II. LAY OF THE LAST MLXSTEEL. G9
For he was her foster-father's son ;
And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light,
To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight.
XXVIII.
The knight and ladye fair are met.
And under the hawthorn's boughs are set.
A fairer pair were never seen
To meet beneath the hawthorn green.
He was stately and young and tall,
Dreaded in battle and loved in hall ;
And she, when love, scarce told, scarce hid,
Lent to her cheek a livelier red.
When the half sigh her swelling breast
Against the silken ribbon pressed.
When her blue eyes their secret told.
Though shaded by her locks of gold, —
Where would you iind the peerless fair
With Margaret of Branksome might compare !
XXIX.
And now, fair dames, methinks I see
You listen to my minstrelsy ;
Your waving locks ye backward throw.
And sidelong bend your necks of snow :
Ye ween to hear a melting tale
Of two true lovers in a dale ;
70 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTBEL. canto ii.
And how the knight, with tender fire,
To paint his faithful passion sti'ove,
Swore he might at her feet expire,
But never, never cease to love ;
And how she Ijlnslied, and liow she sighed,
And, half consenting, half denied,
And said that she would die a maid; —
Yet, might the bloody feud Ije staj^ed,
Henry of Cranstoun, and only he,
Margaret of Branksome's choice should be.
XXX
Alas ! fair dames, your hopes are vain !
My harp has lost the enchanting strain;
Its lightness would my age reprove:
My hairs are gray, my limbs are old.
My heart is dead, my veins are cold ;
I may not, must not, sing of love.
XXXI.
Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld.
The Baron's Dwarf his courser held.
And held his crested lielm and si}car :
Tlmt Dwarf was scarce an cartldy man.
If the tales were true that of him ran
Through all the Border, far and near.
'T was said, when the Baron a-lmnting rode
CANTO II. LAY OF THE LAST J\IISSTBEL.
73
Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trod,
He heard a voice cry, " Lost ! lost ! lost ! "
And, like tennis-ball by racket tossed,
A leap of tliirty feet and tliree
Made from the gorse this elfin shape,
Distorted like some dwarfish ape,
And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee.
Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismayed ;
'Tis said that five good miles he rade.
To rid him of his company ;
But where he rode one mile, the Dwarf ran four,
And the Dwarf was first at the castle door.
74 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. ca
XXXII.
Use lessens marvel, it is said :
This elvish Dwarf with the Baron staid ;
Little he ate, and less he spoke,
Nor mingled with the menial flock :
And oft apart his arras he tossed,
And often mnttered " Lost ! lost ! lost ! "
He was waspish, arch, and litherlie,
But well Lord Cranstoun served he :
And he of his service was full fain ;
For once he had Ijeen ta'en or slain.
An it had not been for his ministry.
All between Home and Hermitage
Talked of Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Page.
XXXIII.
For the Baron went on pilgrimage,
And took with him this elvish page,
To Mary's Chapel of the Lowes :
For there, beside Our Ladye's lake,
An offering he had sworn to make.
And he would pay his vows.
But the Ladye of Branksome gathered a band
Of the best that would ride at her command :
The trysting place was Newark Lee.
Wat of Harden came thither amain,
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
75
And thither came Jolni of Thirlestane,
And thither came William of Delorainc ;
They were three hundred spears and three.
Tlirough Douglas-burn, up Yarrow stream,
Their horses prance, their lances gleam.
They came to St. Mary's lake ere day,
But the chapel was void and the Baron away.
They burned the chapel for very rage.
And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Page.
XXXIV.
And now, in Branksome's good green wood,
As under the aged oak he stood,
76
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
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 vow 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.
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL. 77
While thus he poured the lengthened tale,
The Minstrel's voice began to fail :
Full slyly smiled the observant page,
And gave the withered hand of age
A goblet, crowned with mighty wine,
The blood of Velez' scorched vine.
He raised the silver cup on high,
And, while the big drop filled his eye.
Prayed God to bless the Duchess long,
And all who cheered a son of song.
The attending maidens smiled to see
How long, how deep, how zealously,
The precious juice the Minstrel quaffed ;
And he, emboldened by the draught,
Looked gayly back to them, and laughed.
The cordial nectar of the bowl
Swelled his old veins and cheered his soul ;
A lighter, livelier prelude ran.
Ere thus his tale again bcQ-an.
CANTO THE THIRD,
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 withered heart was dead,
And that I might not sing of love ? —
How could I to the dearest theme,
Tliat ever warmed 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 ?
II.
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed ;
82 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. c
In halls, in gay attire is seen ;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove.
And men below, and saints above ;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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.
That -warrior's steed, so dapple-gray.
Was dark with sweat and splashed with clay ;
His armor red with many a stain :
He seemed in such a weary jtlight,
As if he had ridden the livelong night;
For it was William of Deloraine.
IV.
But no whit weary did he seem,
When, dancing in the sunny beam.
He marked the crane on the Baron's crest ;
For his ready spear was in his rest.
Few were the words, and stern and high.
CANTO III. LAY OF TEE LAST MINSTREL.
83
That marked the foemeii's feudal hate
For question fierce and proud reply
Gave signal soon of dire debate.
Their very coursers seemed to know
That each was other's mortal foe,
And snorted fire when wheeled around,
To give each kniglit his vantage-ground.
In rapid round the Baron bent ;
He sighed a sigh and prayed a prayer :
84 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto hi.
The prayer -n-as to his patron saint,
The sigh was to his hidye fair.
Stout Deloraine nor sigiied nor prayed,
Nor saint nor ladye called to aid ;
But he stooped his head, and couched his spear.
And spurred his steed to full career.
The meeting of these champions proud
Seemed like the bursting thunder-cloud.
YI.
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 flinders flew.
But Cranstoun's lance, of more avail.
Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer's mail ;
Through shield, and jack, and acton passed,
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,
Hurled on a hca]) lay man and horse.
The Baron onward passed his course.
Nor knew — so giddy rolled his brain — -
His foe lay stretched upon the plain.
CANTO III. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 85
But when he reuicd his courser round,
And saw his foeman on the ground
Lie senseless as the bloody clay,
He bade his page to stanch the wound.
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."
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 corselet off he took.
The Dwarf espied the Mighty Book !
Much he marvelled a knight of pride
Like a book -bosomed priest should ride :
He thought not to search or stanch the wound
Until the secret he had found.
LAV OF THE LAST MISSTllEL.
IX.
The iron liaml, tlie iron clasp,
Resisted long the ellin grasp:
For when the lirst he had undone,
It closed as he the next begun.
Those iron clasps, that iron hand.
Would not yield to unehristened hand
Till he smeared the cover o'er
With the Borderer's curdled gore ;
A moment then the volume spread,
And one short spell therein he read.
It had much of glamour might,
Could make a ladye seem a knight.
The cobwebs on a dungeon wall
Seem tapestry in lordly hall,
A nut-shell seem a gilded barge,
A shceling seem a palace large.
And, youth seem age, and age seem youth ■
All was delusion, nought was truth.
X.
He had not read another spell.
When on his cheek a buffet fell.
So fierce, it stretched him on the plain
Beside the wounded Deloraine.
From the ground he rose dismayed,
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL.
And shook his hupre and matted head :
One word he muttered, and no more, —
" Man of age, thou smitest sore ! " —
Xo more the elfin page durst try
Into the wondrous book to pry ;
The clasps, "though smeared with Christian gore,
Shut faster than they were before.
He hid it undemeatli his cloak. —
Xow, if you ask who gave the stroke,
I cannot tell, so mot I thrive;
It was not given bv man alive.
LAY OF THE LAST MI JS STEEL. caj
XI.
Unwillingly himself he addressed
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 passed 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'cr he did of gramaryc
Was always done maliciously ;
He flung the warrior on the ground,
And the blood welled freshly from the wound.
XII.
As he repassed the outer court,
He spied the fair young child at sport :
He thought to train him to the wood ;
For, at a word, be it understood.
He was always for ill, and never for good.
Seemed to the boy some comrade gay
CANTO III. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. 89
Led him fortli to the woods to play ;
On the drawbridge the warders stout
Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out.
XIII.
He led the boy o'er bank and fell,
Until they came to a woodland brook ;
The running stream dissolved the spell,
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 scowled on the startled child.
And darted through the forest wild ;
The woodland brook he boundiug crossed.
And laughed, and shouted, '• Lost 1 lost ! lost I " —
XIV.
Full sore amazed at the wondrous change,
And frightened, as a child might be.
At the wild yell and visage strange,
And the dark words of gramarye,
The child, amidst the forest bower,
Stood rooted like a lilv flower :
90
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
And when at Icngtli, with trembling pace,
He sought to find wliere Branlvsome \a\,
He feared to see that grisly face
Glare from some thicket on his way.
Thus, starting oft, he journeyed on.
And deeper in the wood is gone, —
For ave the more he sought his wa\%
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
91
The farther still he went astray, —
Until he heard the mountains round
Ring to the baying of a hound.
XV.
And hark! and liark ! the deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still and nigher;
Bursts on the path a dark bloodhound,
- ->t^:;\;jiWrr^V^^^^
His tawny muzzle tracked the ground,
And his red eye shot fire.
Soon as the wildercd child saw he,
He flew at him right furiouslie.
I ween you would have seen with joy
The bearing of the gallant boy.
When, worthy of his noble sire,
His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire !
He faced the bloodhound manfully,
92 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto hi.
And held his little bat on high ;
So fierce lie struck, the dog, afraid.
At cautious distance hoarsely bayed,
But still in act to spring;
When dashed an archer through the glade.
And when he saw the hound was stayed.
He drew his tough bowstring;
But a rough voice cried, " Shoot not, hoy !
Ho ! shoot not, Edward — 't is a hoy ! "
XVI.
The speaker issued from the wood,
And checked his fellow's surly mood,
And quelled the han-dogs ire:
He was an English yeoman good
And born in Lancashire.
Well could he hit a fallow-deer
Five hundred feet him fro ;
With hand more true and eye more clear
No archer bended liow.
His coal-black hair, shorn round and close,
Set off his sun -burned face:
Old England's sign, Saint George's cross.
His barre1>cap did grace ;
His bugle-horn hung by his side.
All in a wolf-skin Ijaldric tied ;
LAY OF Till: LAST MINSTREL.
And liis sliort falchion, tsharp and clear,
Had pierced the throat of many a deer.
XVII.
His kirtle, made of forest green,
Reached scantly to his knee ;
And, at his belt, of arrows keen
A fnrbished slicaf bore he ;
His buckler scarce in l)readth a span.
No lono-er fence had he ;
93
He never counted him a man,
Would strike below the knee :
His slackened bow was in his hand,
And the leash that was his bloodhound's band.
94 LAY OF THE LAST MI2;STEEL. ca]
XVlll.
He would not do the fair child harm,
But held him with his powerful arm,
That he might neither fight nor flee ;
For when the Red-Cross spied he,
Tlie boy strove long and violently.
" Now, l:)y Saint George," the archer cries,
"Edward, mcthinl^s we have a prize!
This boy's fair face and courage free
Show he is come of high degree." —
XIX.
" Yes ! I am come of high degree.
For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch;
And, if thou dost not set nic free,
False Southron, thou slialt dearly rue !
For Walter of Harden shall come with sliced.
And William of Dclorainc, good at need.
And every Scott from Esk to Tweed ;
And, if thou dost not let me go.
Despite thy arrows and thy bow,
I '11 have thee hanged to feed the crow ! " —
XX.
" Graraercy for thy good-will, fair lioy !
Mv mind was never set so high ;
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL.
95
But if thou art chief of sucli a clan,
And art the son of such a man,
And ever comest to thy command,
Our wardens had need to keep good order ;
My bow of yew to a hazel wand,
Thou 'It make them work upon the Border.
Meantime, be pleased to come with me.
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see ;
I think our work is well begun,
When we have taken thy father's son."
XXI.
Although the child was led away.
In Branksome still he seemed to stay,
For so the Dwarf his part did play ;
96 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTEEL. (
And, in the sliaiie of tliat young boy,
He wrought the castle much annoy.
The comrades of the young Buccleuch
He pinched, and beat, and overthrew ;
Nay, some of them lie wellnigh slew.
He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire,
And, as Sym Hall stood by the fii'e,
He lighted the match of his bandelier.
And wofully scorched the hackbuteer.
It may be hardly thought or said.
The mischief that the urchin made,
Till many of the castle guessed
That the young Baron was possessed !
XXII.
Well I ween the charm he held
The noble Ladye had soon dispelled,
But she was deeply busied then
To tend the wounded Deloraine.
Much she wondered to find him lie
On the stone thrcsh(.)ld stretched along :
She thought some spirit of the sky
Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong.
Because, despite her ])rece|)t dread,
Perchance he in the book had read ;
But the broken lance in his bosom stood,
And it was earthly steel and wood.
CANTO III. LAV OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. 97
XXIII.
She drew the splinter fi'om the wound,
And with a charm she stanched the blood;
She bade the gash be cleansed and bound :
No longer by his couch she stood;
But she has ta'en the broken lance,
And washed it from the clotted gore,
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er.
William of Deloraine, in trance.
Whene'er she turned it round and round,
Twisted as if she g-^lled his wound.
Then to her maidens she did say,
That he should be whole man and sound
Within the course of a night and day.
Full long she toiled, for she did rue
Mishap to friend so stout and true.
XXIV.
So passed the day — the evening fell,
'T was near the time of curfew bell ;
The air was mild, the wind was calm.
The stream was smooth, the dew was balm ;
E'en the rude watchman on the tower
Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour.
Far more fair Margaret loved and blessed
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL.
Tlic hour of silence and of rest.
On the high turret sitting lone,
She \vaked at times the lute's soft tone.
Touched a wild note, and all between
Tliought of the bower of hawthorns green.
Her golden hair streamed free from band,
Her fair cheek rested on her hand,
Her blue eyes sought the west afar,
For lovers love the western star.
XXV.
Is 3on the star, o'er Penchrvst Pen,
That rises slowly to her ken.
LAY OF THE LAST 3IINSTREL. 99
And, spreading broad its wavering light,
Shakes its loose tresses on the night ?
Is yon red glare the western star ? — ;
0, 't is the beacon-blaze of war !
Scarce could she draw her tightened breath,
For well she knew the fire of death !
XXVI.
Tiie warder viewed it blazing strong.
And blew his war-note loud and long,
Till, at the high and haughty sound.
Rock, wood, and river rung around.
The blast alarmed the festal hall.
And startled forth the warriors all ;
Far downward in the castle-yard
Full many a torch and cresset glared ;
And helms and plumes, confusedly tossed,
Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost ;
And spears in wild disorder shook,
Like reeds beside a frozen brook.
XXVII.
The seneschal, whose silver hair
Was reddened by the torches' glare,
Stood in tlie midst, with gesture proud.
And issued fortli his mandates loud :
" On Penchrvst glows a bale of ili'e,
100 LAY OF THE LAST MIX STEEL. c
And three are kiiicUiiig ou Priesthaughswire :
Ride out, ride out,
The foe to scout !
Mount, mount for Branksome, every man !
Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnstone clan,
That ever are true and stout.
Ye need not send to Liddesdale ;
Foi- when they see the blazing bale
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail. —
Ride, Alton, ride, for death and life !
And warn the warden of the strife. —
Young Gilbert, let our beacon blaze.
Our kin, and clan, and friends, to raise."
XXVIII.
Fair Margaret, from the turret head,
Heard far below the coursers' tread.
While loud the harness rung,
As to their scats with clamor dread
The ready horsemen sprung :
And trampling hoofs, and iron coats,
And leaders' voices, mingled notes,
And out ! and out !
In hasty rout.
The horsemen galloped forth ;
Dispersing to the south to scout.
And east, and west, and north.
CANTO III. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
To view their coming enemies,
And warn their vassals and allies.
103
^^^.._..-^.
^sswl
W:^
'tM. - ^
■
^^^^^ '^S
m
XXIX.
The ready page with hurried hand
Awaked the need-fire's slumbering brand,
And ruddy blushed the heaven :
For a sheet of flame from the turret high
Waved like a blood-flag on the sky,
All flaring and uneven ;
And soon a score of fires, I ween,
From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen.
Each with warlike tidings fraught ;
Each from each the signal caught ;
Each after each they glanced to sight.
As stars arise upon the night.
They gleamed on many a dusky tarn,
104 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto hi.
Haunted by the lonely earn ;
On many a cairn's gray pyramid,
Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid ;
Till high Dunedin the blazes sa-w
From Soltra and Dumpender La'w,
And Lothian heard the Regent's order
That all should bowne them for the Border.
XXX.
The livelong night in Branksome rang
The ceaseless sound of steel ;
The castle-bell with backward clang
Sent forth the larum peal :
Was frequent heard the heavy jar,
Where massy stone and iron bar
Were piled on echoing keep and tower,
To whelm the foe with deadly shower ;
Was frequent heard the changing guard.
And watchword from the sleepless ward ;
While, wearied by the endless din.
Bloodhound and ban-dog yelled within.
XXXI.
The noble dame, amid the broil.
Shared the gray seneschal's high toil,
And spoke of danger with a smile.
Cheered the young knights, and council sage
CANTO III.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
105
Held with the chiefs of riper age.
No tidings of the foe were brought,
Nor of his numbers knew they aught,
Nor wliat in time of truce lie sought.
Some said that there were thousands ten
And others weened that it was nought
But Leven Clans, or Tynedale men,
Who came to gather in black-mail ;
And Liddesdale, with small avail,
Might drive them lightly back agen.
So passed the anxious night away,
And welcome was the peep of day.
106
LAY OF TBI: LAST MINSTREL.
Ceased the high sound — tlie listening throng
Applaud the Master of the Song ;
And marvel much, in helpless age,
So hard should be his pilgrimage.
Had he no friend — no daughter dear,
His wandering toil to share and cheer ?
No son to be his father's stay.
And guide him on the rugged Avay ?
"Ay, once he had — but he was dead!" —
Upon the harp he stooped his head,
And busied himself the strings withal,
To hide the tear that fain would fall.
In solemn measure, soft and slow,
Arose a father's notes of woe.
^y „■), vp- «^. , > %^r -
CANTO THE FOURTH
Sweet Tcviot ! on thy silver tide
The o-laring bale-fires hlaze no more ;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore ;
Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
. As if thy waves, since time was born.
Since first they rolled upon the Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
Nor startled at the buo-le-horn.
Unlike the tide of human time.
Which, though it change in ceaseless flow,
110 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. canto iv.
Retains each grief, retains each crime,
Its earliest course was doomed to know.
And, darker as it downward bears,
Is stained with past and present tears.
Low as that tide has ebbed with me.
It still reflects to memory's eye
The iiour my brave, my only boy
Fell by the side of great Dundee.
Wliy, when the volleying musket played
Against the bloody Highland blade.
Why was not I beside him laid ? —
Enough — he died the death of fame;
Enough — ho died with conquering Gramme.
III.
Now over Border dale and fell
Full wide and far was terror spread ;
For pathless mai"sh and mountain cell
The peasant left his lowly shed.
The frightened flocks and herds were pent
Beneath the peel's rude battlement;
And maids and matrons dropped the tear,
While ready warriors seized the spear.
From Branksome's towers the watchman's eye
Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy,
Which, curling in the rising sun,
Showed southern ravage was begun.
ZAF OF mi: LAST MINSTREL.
Ill
IV.
Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried —
" Prei»are ye all for blows and blood !
Watt Tiiilinn, from the Liddel-side,
Comes wadiuii- throudi the flood.
Full oft the Tynedalc snatchcrs knock
At his lone gate and prove the lock ;
It was but last Saint Barnabright
They sieged him a whole summer night,
But fled at morning ; well they knew,
112 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. c
111 vain lie never t\van<i-ed the yew.
Right sharp has been the evenint;' shower
That drove him from liis Liddel tower ;
And, liy my faitli," the gate-ward said,
" I thiniv 't will prove a Warden-Raid."
V.
While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman
Entered the echoing barbiean.
lie led a small and shaggy nag,
Tliat through a bog, IVoni hag to hag,
Could bound like any I>illhope stag.
It bore his wife and children twain ;
A half-clothed serf was all their train :
Plis wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-browed,
Of silver brooch and bracelet proud.
Laughed to her friends ain<nig the crowd.
He was of stature passing tall,
But sparely formed, and lean withal ;
A battered morinn on liis brow;
A leathern jack, as fence enow,
On his broad shoulders loosely hung;
A Border axe behind was slung ;
His spear, six Scottish ells in length.
Seemed newly dyed with gore :
His shafts and bow, of wondrous strength.
His hardy partner bore.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
113
VI.
Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinii show
The tidings of the English foe : —
" Belted Will Howard is marching here,
And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear,
And all the German hackbut-men
Who have long lain at Askerten :
They crossed the Liddel at curfew hour,
And buvned my little lonely tower:
The fiend receive their souls therefor !
It had not been burnt this j'ear and moi'e.
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight,
But T was chased the livelona; niaht.
114 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL. ca:
Black John of Akeshaw and Fergus Grceme
Fast upon in)- traces came,
Until I turned at Priesthaugh Scrogg,
And shot their horses in the bog,
Slew Fergus with my lance outright —
I had him long at high despite ;
He drove my cows last Fastern's night."
VII.
Now weary scouts from Liddesdale,
Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale ;
As far as they could judge by ken,
Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand
Three thousand armed Englishmen —
Meanwhile, full many a warlike band,
From Teviot, Aill, and Ettrick shade,
Came in, their chief's defence to aid.
There was saddling and mounting in haste,
There was pricking o'er moor and lea ;
He that was last at the trysting-i>lace
Was but lightly held of his gay ladye.
VIII.
From fair Saint Mary's silver wave.
Prom dreary Gamescleuch's dusky height,
His ready lances Thirlestane brave
Arrayed beneath a banner brisiht.
CANTO IV. LAY OF THE LAST MmSTREL. 115
The tressured fleur-de-lucc he claims
To wreathe his shield, since royjl James,
Encamped by Fala's mossy wave,
The proud distinction grateful gave
For faith mid feudal jars ;
What time, save Thirlestane alone,
Of Scotland's stubborn barons none
Would march to southern wars ;
And hence, in fair remembrance worn,
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ;
Hence his high motto shines revealed —
" Ready, aye ready," for the field.
IX.
An aged knight, to danger steeled,
With many a mosstrooper, came on ;
And, azure in a golden field.
The stars and crescent graced his shield,
Without the bend of Murdieston.
Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower.
And wide round haunted Castle-Ower ;
High over Borthwick's mountain flood
His wood-embosomed mansion stood ;
In the dark glen, so deep below.
The herds of plundered England low, —
His bold i-etainers' daily food.
And bought with danger, blows, and blood.
11(J LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. ca
Marauding chief ! his sole delight
The moonlight raid, the morning fight ;
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms
In youth might tame his rage for arms ;
And still in age he spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed,
Albeit the blanched locks below
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow.
Five stately warriors drew the sword
Before their father's band ;
A braver knight than Harden's lord
Ne'er belted on a brand.
X.
Scotts of Eskdale, a stalwart ))and,
Came trooping down the Todshawhill ;
By the sword they won their land,
And by the sword they hold it still.
Hearken, Ladye, to the tale
How thy sires won fair Eskdale. —
Earl Morton was lord of that valley fair.
The Beattisons were his vassals there.
The earl was gentle and mild of mood,
The vassals were warlike, and fierce, and rude ;
High of heart and haughty of word.
Little they i-ecked of a tame liege lord.
The earl into fair Eskdale came.
LAY OF TILE LAST MIXSTLEL.
117
Homage and seigniory to claim :
Of Gilbert the Galliard a lieriot he sought,
Saying, " Give thy best steed, as a vassal ought.
" Dear to me is my bonny white steed,
Oft has he hel])cd me at pinch of need ;
Lord and earl though thou be, 1 trow,
I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou." —
Word on word gave fuel to fire.
Till so high blazed the Beattison's ire,
But that the earl the flight had ta'en.
The vassals there their lord had slain.
Sore he plied both whip and spur,
As he urged his steed through Eskdale muir ;
And it fell down a weary weight.
Just on the threshold of Branksomc gate.
118
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL.
XI.
The earl was a wrathful man to see,
Full fain avenged would he be.
In haste to Branksonie's lord he spoke,
.Saying-, — "Take these traitors to thy yoke;
For a cast of liawks, and a purse of gold,
All Eskdale I'll sell thee, to have and hold:
Beshrew thy heart, of the Beattisons' elan
If thou leavest on Eske a landed man ;
But spai-e Woodkerrick"s lands alone.
For he lent me his liorse to escaiie ujkui."
A glad man then was Branksome l)old,
Down he flung him the purse of gold ;
To Eskdale soon he sjiurred amain.
And with him five hundred riders has ta'en.
He left his merry men in the mist of the hill,
And bade them hold them close and still :
And alone he wended to the plain,
To meet with the Galliard and all liis train.
To Gilbert the Galliard tlius he said :
" Know thou me for thy liege-lord and head ;
Deal not with me as with Morton tame.
For i^cotts ]ilay best at the roughest game.
Give me in peace my lieriot due.
Thy bonny white steed, or thou shalt rue.
CANTO IV. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. 119
If my horn I three times wind,
Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind."
XII.
Loudly the Beattison laughed in scorn;
" Little care we for thy winded horn.
Ne'er shall it be the Galliard's lot
To yield his steed to a haughty Scott.
Wend thou to Branksome back on foot,
With rusty spur and miry l)oot."
He blew his bugle so loud and hoai'se
That the dun deer started at far Craikcross ;
He blew again so loud and clear,
Through the gray momitain-mist there did lances appear ;
And the third lilast rang with such a din
That the echoes answered from Pcntoun-linn,
And all his riders came lightly in.
Then had you seen a gallant shock,
When saddles were emptied and lances broke !
For each scornful word the Galliard had said
A Beattison on the field was laid.
His own good sword the chieftain drew.
And he bore the Galliard through and through ;
Where the Beattisons' blood mixed with the rill,
The Galliard's Haugh men call it still.
The Scotts have scattered the Beattison clan,
In Eskdale they left but one landed man.
120
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
The valley of Eskc, from the moutli to the source,
Was lost and won for that bouiiy white horse.
XIII.
Whitslado the Hawk, and Headshaw came,
And warriors more than I may name;
From Yarrow-cleugh to Hindhaugh-swair,
From Woodhouselic to Chester-glen,
Trooped man and horse, and bow and spear;
Their gathering word was Bcllenden.
And better hearts o'er Border sod
To siege or rescue never rode.
The Ladye marked the aids come in.
And high her lieart of pride arose:
She bade her youthful son attend.
That he midit know his father's friend.
CANTO IV. ZAV OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 121
And learn to face his foes.
" The boy is ripe to look on war ;
I saw him draw a cross-bow stiff,
And his true arrow struck afar
The raven's nest upon the cliff ;
The red cross, on a southern breast,
Is broader than the raven's nest :
Thou, AVliitsladc, shall teacli him his weapon to wield,
And o'er him hold his father's shield." —
XIV.
Well may you think the wily page
Cared not to face the Ladye sage.
He counterfeited childish fear,
And shrieked, and shed full many a tear.
And moaned, and plained in manner wild.
The attendants to the Ladye told,
Some fairy, sure, had chanu'ed the child,
That wont to be so free and bold.
Then wratliful was the noble dame ;
She blushed blood-red for very shame : —
" Hence ! ere the clan his faintness view ;
Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch! —
Watt Tinlinn, thou shalt be his guide
To Rangleburn's lonely side. —
Sure, some fell fiend has cursed our line,
That coward should e'er be son of mine ! "
122
LAY OF THE LAST MINBTIiEL.
XV.
A heavy task Watt Tinlinu had,
To guide the counterfeited lad.
Soon as the palfrey felt the weight
Of that ill-omened elfish freight,
He bolted, sprung, and reared amain.
Nor heeded bit nor curb nor rein.
It cost Watt Tinlinn mickle toil
To drive him but a Scottish mile ;
But as a shallow brook they crossed.
The elf, amid the running stream.
V. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 123
His figure changed, like form in dream,
And fled, and shouted, " Lost ! lost ! lost ! "
Full fast the urchin ran and laughed,
But faster still a cloth-yard shaft
Whistled from startled Tinlinn's yew.
And pierced his shoulder through and through.
Although the imp might not be slain.
And though the wound soon healed again,
Yet, as he ran, he yelled for pain ;
And Watt of Tinlinn, much agliast,
Rode back to Branksome fiery fast.
XVI.
Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood,
That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood ;
And martial murmurs from below
Proclaimed the approaching Soutliern foe.
Through the dark wood, in mingled tone.
Were Border pipes and bugles blown ;
The coursers' neighing he could ken,
A measured tread of marching men ;
While broke at times the solemn hum.
The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum ;
And banners tall, of crimson sheen,
Above the copse appear ;
And, glistening tlirough the hawthorns green,
Shine helm and shield and spear.
124 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTMEL. canto iv.
XVII.
Light forayers, first, to view the ground,
Spurred their fleet coursers hjosely round ;
Behind, in ehjse array, and fast.
The Kendal archers, all in green,
Obedient to the bugle blast.
Advancing from the wood were seen.
To back and guard the archer band.
Lord Dacre's hilhnen were at hand :
A hardy race, on Irtliing bred.
With kirtles white and crosses red.
Arrayed beneath the banner tall
That streamed o'er Acre's conquered wall ;
And minstrels, as they marched in order.
Played, " Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border."
XVIII.
Behind the English Ijill and bow
The mercenaries, firm and slow.
Moved on to fight in dark array,
By Conrad led of Wolfcnstein,
Who brought the band fi-om distant Rhine,
And sold their blood for foreign pay.
The camj) their home, their law the sword,
They knew no country, owned no lord :
They were not armed like England's sons.
V. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 125
But bore the levin-darting guns ;
Buff coats, all frounced and broidcred o'er,
And morsing-horns and scarfs they wore ;
Each better knee was bared, to aid
The warriors in the escalade ;
All as they marclied, in rugged tongue
Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung.
XIX.
But louder still the clamor grew.
And louder still the minstrels blew,
When, from beneath the greenwood tree,
Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry ;
His men-at-arms, with glaive and spear.
Brought up the battle's glittering rear.
There many a youthful knight, full keen
To gain his spurs, in arms was seen ;
With favor in his crest or glove,
Memorial of his ladye-love.
So rode they forth in fair array.
Till full their lengthened lines display ;
Then called a halt, and made a stand,
And cried, " St. George, for merry England ! "
XX.
Now every English eye intent
On Branksome's armed towers was bent;
126 LAY OF THE LAST MLXSTREL.
So near they were that they might know
The straining harsh of each cross-bow ;
On battlement and bartizan
Gleamed axe and spear and partisan ;
Falcon and culver on each tower
Stood prompt their deadly hail to shower ;
And flashing armor frequent broke
From eddying whirls of sable smoke,
Where upon tower and turret head
The seething pitch and molten lead
Reeked like a witch's cauldron red.
While yet they gaze, the bridges fall,
The wicket opes, and from the wall
Rides forth the hoary seneschal.
XXI.
Armed ho rode, all save the head,
His white beard o'er his breastplate spread ;
Unbroke by age, erect liis seat.
He ruled his eager courser's gait ;
Forced him with chastened fire to prance.
And, high curvetting, slow advance :
In sign of truce, his better hand
Displayed a peeled willow wand ;
His squire, attending in the rear.
Bore high a gauntlet on a spear.
When they espied him riding out.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
127
Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout
Sped to the front of their array,
To hear what this old knight should say.
XXII.
" Ye English warden lords, of you
Demands the Ladye of Buccleucli,
Why, 'gainst the truce of Border tide,
In hostile guise yc dare to ride,
With Kendal bow and Gilsland brand,
And all yon mercenary band.
Upon the bounds of fair Scotland?
My Ladye reads you swith return ;
And, if but one poor straw you burn.
Or do our towers so much molest
128 LAY OF Tin:: LAST MINSTIIEL. canto iv.
As scare one swallow from her nest,
St. Mary ! but we '11 light a brand
Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland." —
XXIII.
A wrathful man was Dacre's lord,
But calmer Howard took the word :
" May 't please thy Dame, Sir Seneschal,
To seek the castle's outward wall.
Our jnirsuivant-at-arms shall show
Both why we came and when we go." —
The message sped, the noble Dame
To the wall's outward circle came ;
Each chief around leaned on his spear,
To see the pursuivant ajDpear.
All in Lord Howard's livery dressed,
The lion argent decked his breast ;
He led a boy of blooming hue —
0 sight to meet a- mother's \\c\\ !
It was the heir of great Buccleuch.
Obeisance meet the herald made.
And thus his master's will he said :
XXIV.
" It irks, high Dame, my noble lords,
'Oainst ladye fair to draw their swords ;
But yet they may not tamely see.
LAY OF THE LAST 3IIN STEEL. 129
All through the Western Wardenry,
Your law-contemning kinsmen ride,
And burn and spoil the Border-side;
And ill beseems your rank and birth
To make your towers a flemens-firth.
We claim from thee William of Deloraine,
Tliat he may suffer march-treason jiain.
It was but last St. Cuthbert's even
He pricked to Stapleton on Leven,
Harried the lands of Richard Musgrave,
And slew his brother by dint of glaive.
Then, since a lone and widowed Dame
These restless riders may not tame.
Either receive within thy towers
Two hundred of my master's powers,
Or straight they sound their warrison.
And storm and spoil thy garrison ;
And this fair boy, to London led,
Shall good King Edward's page be bred."
XXV.
He ceased — and loud the boy did cry,
And stretched his little arms on high,
Implored for aid each well-known face.
And strove to seek the Dame's embrace.
A moment changed that Ladye's cheer,
Gushed to her eye the unbidden tear ;
130
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto iv.
She gazed upon the leaders round.
And dark and sad each warrior frowned;
Then deep within her sobbing breast
She loclced the struggling sigh to rest,
Unaltered and collected stood,
And thus replied in dauntless mood : —
r'i'l %P'
XXFI.
" Say to your lords of high emprise
Who war on women and on boys,
That either William of Deloraine
Will cleanse him by oath of march-treason stain,
CANTO IV. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. HI
Or else be will the combat take
'Gainst Musgrave for his lionor's sake.
No knight in Cumberland so good
But William may count with him kin and blood.
Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword,
Wlieu English blood swelled Ancram ford ;
And but Lord Dacre's steed was wight,
And bare him ably in the flight.
Himself had seen him dubbed a knight.
For the young heir of Brauksome's line,
God be his aid, and God be mine I
Through me no friend shall meet his doom ;
Here, while 1 live, no foe finds room.
Then, if thy lords their purpose urge,
Take our defiance loud and high ;
Our slogan is their lyke-wake dirge.
Our moat the grave where thev shall lie."
Proud she looked round, applause to claim —
Then lightened Thirlstane's eye of flame ;
His bugle Watt of Harden blew ;
Pensils and pennons wide were flung.
To heaven the Border slogan rung,
" Saint Mary for the young Buccleuch I "
The English war-cry answered wide.
And forward bent each Southern spear;
132 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto it.
Each Kendal archer made a stride,
And drew the bowstring to his ear;
Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown ; —
But, ere a gray-goose shaft had tlown,
A horseman galloped from the rear.
XXVIII.
" Ah ! nolile lords ! " he breathless said,
" What treason has your march betrayed ?
What make you here from aid so far.
Before yon walls, around you war ?
Your focmen triumph in the thought
Tliat in the toils the lion 's caught.
Already on dark Ruberslaw
The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw ;
The lances, waving in his train,
Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain ;
And on the Liddel's northern strand,
To bar retreat to Cumberland,
Lord Maxwell ranks his merrymen good
Beneath the eagle and the rood ;
And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale,
Have to proud Angus come ;
And all the Merse and Lauderdale
Have risen with haughty Home.
An exile from Northumberland,
In Liddesdale I 've wandered long.
CANTO IV. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
133
But still my heart was with merry England,
And cannot brook my country's wrong ;
And hard I 've spurred all night, to show
The mustering of the coming foe." —
XXIX.
" And let them come ! " fierce Dacre cried ;
" For soon yon crest, my father's pride,
That swept the shores of Judah's sea.
And waved in gales of Galilee,
From Branksome's highest towers displayed.
134 . LAY OF Tim LAST MINSTREL. canto iv.
Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid! —
Level each hai'quebuss on row ;
Draw, merry archers, draw the bow ;
Up, billmen, to the walls, and cry,
Dacre for England, win or die ! " —
XXX.
" Yet hear," quoth Howard, " calmly hear.
Nor deem my words the words of fear :
For who, in field or foray slack.
Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back ?
But thus to risk our Border flower
In strife against a kingdom's power,
Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three,
Certes, were desperate policy.
Nay, take the terms the Ladye made
Ere conscious of the advancing aid :
Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine
In single fight, and if he gain,
He gains for us ; but if he 's crosised,
'T is but a single warrior lost :
The rest, retreating as they came.
Avoid defeat, and death, and shame."
XXXI.
Ill could the haughty Dacre brook
His brother warden's sasj-e rebuke ;
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
135
And yet his forward step he stayed,
And slow and sullenly obeyed.
But ne'er again the Border side
Did these two lords in friendship ride ;
And this slight discontent, men say.
Cost blood upon another day.
XXXII.
The pursuivant-at-arms again
Before the castle took his stand ;
His truunjct called with jjarleying strain
13(3 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL. canto iv.
The leaders of the Scottish band ;
And he delled, in Musgrave's right,
Stout Deloraiiie to single fight ;
A gauntlet at their feet he laid,
And thus the terms of fight he said : —
"If in the lists good Musgrave's sword
Vanquish the Knight of Deloraine,
Your j'outhful chieftain, Branksome's lord.
Shall hostage for his clan remain :
If Deloraine foil good Musgrave,
The boy his liberty shall have.
Howe'er it falls, the English Viand,
Unharming Scots, by Scots unharmed.
In peaceful march, like men unarmed.
Shall straight retreat to Cumberland."
XXXIII.
Unconscious of the near relief.
The proffer pleased each Scottish chief.
Though much the Ladye sage gainsaid :
For though their hearts were brave and true,
From Jedwood's recent sack they knew
How tardy was the Regent's aid :
And you may guess the noble Dame
Durst not the secret prescience own.
Sprung from the art she might not name.
By which the coming help was known.
CANTO IV. LAV OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 137
Closed was the compact, aiid agreed
That lists should be enclosed with speed
Beneath the castle on a lawn :
They fixed the morrow for the strife,
On foot, with Scottish axe and knife,
At the fourth hour from peep of dawn ;
When Deloraine, from sickness freed,
Or else a champion in his stead.
Should for himself and chieftain stand
Against stout Musgrave, hand to hand.
XXXIV.
I know right well that in their lay
Full many minstrels sing and say,
Such combat should be made on horse.
On foaming steed, in full career,
With brand to aid, whenas the spear
Should shiver in the course :
But he, the jovial harper, taught
Me, yet a youth, how it was fought.
In guise which now I say ;
He knew each ordinance and clause
Of Ijlack Lord Archibald's battle-laws.
In the old Douglas' day.
He brooked not, he, that scoffing tongue
Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong.
Or call his song imtrue :
138 LAY OF THE LAST Miy STEEL.
For this, when they the goblet plied,
And such rude taunt had chafed his pride,
The Bard of Reull he slew.
On Teviot's side in fight they stood,
And tuneful hands were stained with blood ;
Where still the thorn's white branches wave,
Memorial o'er his rival's grave.
Why should I tell the rigid doom
That dragged my master to his tomb ;
How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair,
Wept till their eyes were dead and dim,
And wrung their hands for love of him
Who died at Jcdwood Air ?
He died ! — his scholars, one by one.
To the cold silent grave arc gone ;
xVnd I, alas ! survive alone.
To muse o'er rivalries of yore.
And grieve that I shall hear no uku-c
The strains, with envy heard before ;
For, with my minstrel brethren fled,
My jealousy of song is dead.
CANTO IV. LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL.
139
He paused : the listening dames again
Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain.
With many a word of kindly cheer, —
In pity half, and half sincere, —
Marvelled the Duchess how so well
His legendary song could tell —
140 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTEEL.
Of ancient deeds, so long forgot ;
Of feuds, whose lueuioiy was not ;
Of forests, now laid waste and bare ;
Of towers, which harbor now the hare ;
Of manners, long since changed and gone ;
Of chiefs, who under their gray stone
So long had sle]it that fickle Fame
Had blotted from her rolls their name,
And twined round some new minion's head
The fading wreath for which they bled ;
In sooth, 't was strange this old man's verse
Could call them from their marble hearse.
The harper smUed, well pleased ; for ne'er
Was flattery lost on poet's ear :
A simple race ! they waste their toil
For the ^ain tribute of a smile ;
E'en when in age their flame exjiires.
Her dulcet breath can fan its fires :
Their drooping fancy wakes at praise,
And strives to trim the short-lived blaze.
Smiled then, well pleased, the aged man,
And thus his tale continued ran.
CANTO THE FIFTH,
Call it not vain : — they do not err,
Who say that when the poet dies
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,
And celebrates his obsequies ;
"Who say tall cliff and cavern lone
For the departed bard make moan ;
That mountains weep in crystal rill ;
That flowers in tears of balm distil ;
Through his loved groves that breezes sigh.
And oaks in deeper groan reply ;
And rivers teach their rushing wave
To murmur dirges round his grave.
144 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTKEL.
II.
Not that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn
Those things inanimate can mourn,
But that the stream, the wood, the gale,
Is vocal with the plaintive wail
Of those who, else forgotten long,
Lived in the poet's faithful song.
And, with tlie poet's parting breath.
Whose memory feels a second death.
The maid's pale shade, who wails her hit.
That love, true love, should be forgot,
From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear
Upon the gentle minstrel's bier :
The phantom knight, his glorv fled.
Mourns o'er the field he heaped with dead.
Mounts the wild blast that sweeps amain.
And shrieks along the battle-jilain ;
The cliirf, whose antirpic crownlet long
Still sparkled in tiie feudal song.
Now, from tlie UKjuntain's misty throne.
Sees, in the thanedom once his own.
His ashes undistinguished lie.
His place, his jiower, his memory die:
His groans the lonely caverns fill,
Plis tears of rage impel the rill ;
LAY OF THE LAST MLXSTEEL. 145
All moiini the minstrel's harp unstrung,
Their name unknown, their praise unsung.
III.
Scarcely the hot assault was stayed.
The terms of truce were scarcely made,
When they could spy, from Branksome's towers,
The advancing march of martial jiowers :
Thick clouds of dust afar apjieared,
And trampling steeds were faintly heard ;
Bright spears above the colunnis dun
Glanced momentary to the sun ;
And feudal banners fair displayed
The bands that moved to Branksome's aid.
IV.
Vails not to tell each hardy clan,
From the fair Middle Marches came ;
The Bloody Heart blazed in the van.
Announcing Douglas, dreaded name !
Vails not to tell what steeds did spurn,
Where the Seven Spears of Wedderburne
Their men in battle-order set.
And Swinton laid the lance in rest
That tamed of yore the sparkling crest
Of Clarence's Plantagenet.
Nor list I say what hundreds more,
10
146
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTIiEL.
From the rich Merso and Lammermore,
And Tweed's fair borders, to the war,
Beneath the crest of Old Dunljar
And Hepburn's mingled banners, come
Down the steep mountain glittering far.
And shouting still, " A Home I a Home I "
Now squire and knight, from Branksomc sent,
On many a courteous message went ;
To every chief and hird they paid
Meet thanks for promjit and i)Owcrful aid.
LAY OF THE LAST MIKSTBEL. 147
And told them liow a truce was made,
And how a day of fight was ta'en
'Twixt Musgrave and stout Deloraine ;
And how the Lad3-e prayed them dear
That all would stay the fight to see,
And deign, in love and courtesy,
To taste of Branksome cheer.
Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot,
Were England's noble lords forgot.
Himself, the hoary seneschal.
Rode forth, in seemly terms to call
Those gallant foes to Branksome Hall.
Accepted Howard, than whom knight
Was never dubbed, moi'e bold in fight.
Nor, when from war and armor free,
More famed for stately courtesy;
But angry Dacre rather chose
In his pavilion to repose.
VI.
Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask
How these two hostile armies met,
Deeming it were no easy task
To keep the truce which here was set ;
Where martial spirits, all on fire.
Breathed only blood and mortal ire. —
Bv mutual inroads, mutual blows.
148 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto v.
By habit, and by nation, foes,
They met on Tcviot's strand :
They met and sate them mingled down,
Without a threat, without a frown.
As brothers meet in foreign land :
The hands, the spear that lately grasped,
Still in the mailed gauntlet clasped,
Were interchanged in greeting dear ;
Visors were raised and faces shown.
And many a friend, to fi-ieud made known.
Partook of social cheer.
Some drove the jolly IjdwI 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 Idown,
Or sign of war been seen.
Those bands, so fair together ranged.
Those hands, so frankly interchanged,
Had dyed with gore the green :
The merry shout liy Teviot-side
Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide.
And in the groan of death ;
And whingers, now in friendship bare.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
149
The social meal to part and share,
Had found a bloody sheath.
'Twixt truce and war, such sudden change
Was not infrequent, nor held strange,
In the old Border-day ;
But yet on Branksome's towers and town,
In peaceful merriment, sunk down
The sun's declining ray.
VIII.
The blithesome signs of wassail gay
Decayed not with the dying day ;
Soon through the latticed windows tall
Of lofty Branks(jmc's lordly hall,
Divided square by shafts of stone.
Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone ;
150 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. c.
Nor less the gilded rafters rang
With merry harp and beakers' clang :
And frequent, on the darkening plain,
Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran.
As bands, tlieir stragglers to regain.
Give the shrill watchword of their clan ;
And revellers, o'er their bowls, proclaim
Douglas' or Dacre's con(juering name.
IX.
Less frequent heard, and fainter still,
At length the various clamors died :
And you might hear, from Branksomc hill,
No sound but Teviot's rushing tide ;
Save when the changing sentinel
The challenge of his watcli could tell ;
And save wliere, tlirdugli the dark profound,
The clanging axe and hammer's sound
Rung from the nether lawn ;
For many a busy hand t(_)iled there,
Strong pales to shape and beams to square.
The lists' dread barriers to prejjare
Against the morrow's dawn.
Margaret from liall did soon retreat,
Despite the Dame's reproving eye ;
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 151
Nor marked she, as she left her seat,
Full many a stifled sigh ;
For many a noble warrior strove
To will the Flower of Teviot's love.
And many a bold ally. — •
With throl)liing iiead and anxious heart.
All in her lonely Ijower apart.
In broken sleep siie lay :
By times, from silken conch she rose ;
While 3"et the bannered hosts repose.
She viewed the dawning day :
Of all the hundreds sunk to rest,
First woke the loveliest and the best.
XI.
She gazed upon tlic 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 ])assed below ;
But when he raised his plumed head —
Blessed Mary ! can it be ? —
Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers.
He walks through Branksome's hostile towers,
With fearless stcji and free.
152
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTBEL. canto v.
She dared not sign, she dared not speak —
0, if one page's slumbers break,
His blood the price must pay !
Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears,
Not Margaret's yet more precious tears,
Shall buy his life a day.
XII.
Yet was his hazard small ; for well
You may bethink you of the spell
Of that sly urchin page ;
This to his lord he did impart,
And made him seem, by glamour art.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 153
A knight from hermitage.
Unchallenged, thus, the warder's post,
The court, unchallenged, thus he crossed,
For all the vassalage ;
But 0, what magic's quaint disguise
Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyes !
She started from her seat ;
While with surprise and fear she strove.
And both could scarcely master love —
Lord Henry's at her feet.
XIII.
Oft have I mused what purpose bad
That foul malicious urchin had
To bring this meeting round.
For happy love 's a heavenly sight.
And by a vile malignant sprite
In such no joy is found ;
And oft I've deemed, perchance he thought
Their erring passion might have wrought
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
The heart of them that loved so well.
True love 's the gift which God has s:ivon
15-4 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTREL.
To man alone beneath the heaven :
It is not fantasy's hot lire,
Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ;
It liveth not in fierce desire,
With dead desire it doth not die ;
It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie.
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind.
In l)ody and in soul can Ijind. —
Now leave we Margaret and her knight.
To tell you of the approaching fight.
XIV.
Their warning blasts the bugles blew.
The pipe's shrill port aroused each clan ;
In haste the deadly strife to view,
Tiie trooping warriors eager ran :
Thick round the lists their lances stood,
Like blasted pines in Ettrick wood ;
To Branksome many a look they threw.
The combatants' aiiproach to view.
And bandied many a word of boast
About the knight each favored most.
XV.
Meantime full anxious was the Dame ;
For now arose disputed claim
LAY OF Tim LAST MIXSTREL.
155
Of who should fight for Deloraine,
'Twixt Harden and 'twixt Thirlestaine :
They 'gan to reckon kin and rent,
And frowning brow on brow was bent ;
But yet not long the strife — for, lo !
Himself, the Knight of Deloraine,
Strong, as it seemed, and free from pain.
In armor sheathed from top to toe,
Appeared, and craved the combat due.
The Dame her charm successful knew.
And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew.
156 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
XVI.
When for the lists they sought the plain,
The stately Ladye's silken rein
Did noble Howard hold ;
Unarmed by her side he walked,
And much in courteous phrase they talked
Of feats of arms of old.
Costly his garb — his Flemish ruff
Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff,
With satin slashed and lined ;
Tawny his boot, and gold his spur,
His cloak was all of Poland fur,
Flis hose with silver twined ;
His Bilboa blade, by Marchmcn felt.
Hung in a broad and studded belt ;
Hence, in rude phrase, the Boi;derers still
Called noble Howard, Belted Will.
XVII.
Behind Lord Howard and the Dame
Fair Margaret on her palfrey came.
Whose foot-cloth .swept the ground ;
White was her wimple and her veil.
And her loose locks a chai)let pale
Of whitest roses bound;
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 157
The lordly Angus, In- her side,
lu courtesy to cheer her tried ;
Without his aid, her hand in vain
Had strove to guide her broidercd rein.
He deemed she shuddered at the sight
Of warriors met for mortal fight ;
But cause of terror, all unguessed,
Was fluttering in her gentle breast,
When, in their chairs of crimson placed,
The Dame and she the barriers graced.
XVIII.
Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch
An English knight led foi'th to view ;
Scarce rued the boy his present plight.
So much he longed to see the fight.
Within the lists in knightly pride
High Home and haughty Dacre ride ;
Their leading staffs of steel they wield,
As marshals of the mortal field.
While to each knight their care assigned
Like vantage of the sun and wind.
Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim.
In King and Queen and Warden's name.
That none, while lasts the strife.
Should dare, by look or sign or word.
Aid to a champion to afford,
158 LAY OF THE LAST MLNSTEEL.
On peril of bis life ;
And not a breath the silence broke
Till thus the alternate heralds spoke : —
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.
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 ! "
■■'■^.^Z
XX.
SCOTTISH HERALD.
" Here standeth William of Deloraine,
Good knight and true, of noble strain,
Who sayeth that foul treason's stain.
J. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTEEL. 159
Since he bore arms, ne'er soiled liis coat ;
And that, so help him God above !
Ho will on Musgrave's body prove,
He lies most foully in his throat." —
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,
And measured step and wary eye,
The combatants did close !
XXI.
m would it suit your gentle ear,
Ye lovely listeners, to hear
How to the axe the helms did sound,
And blood poured down from many a wound ;
For desperate was the strife and long,
And either warrior fierce and strong.
But, were each dame a listening knight,
I well could tell how warriors fight ;
160
LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL.
For I have seen war's liglitiiing Hashing,
8ecu the claymore with bayonet cUxshing,
Seen through red Ijlood the war-horse dashing,
And scorned, amid the reeling strife,
To yield a step for death or life.
XXII.
'T is done, 't is done ! that fatal blow
Has stretched him on the Idoody plain;
He strives to rise — brave Musgrave, no!
Thence never shalt thou rise again !
He chokes in blood — some friendly hand
LAV OF THE LA^T MINSTREL. 161
Undo the visor's barred band,
Unfix tlie gorget's iron clasp,
And give him room for Hfe to gasp I —
O, bootless aid ! — haste, holy friar,
Haste, ere the sinner shall expire I
Of all his gnilt let him be shriven,
And smooth his ))ath from earth to heaven !
XXIII.
In haste the holy friar sped ; —
His naked foot •was dyed with red.
As through the lists he ran ;
Unmindful of the shouts on high
That hailed the conqueror's victory.
He raised the dying man ;
Loose waved his silver beai'd and hair,
As o'er him he kneeled down in prayer ;
And still the crucifix on high
He holds before his darkening eye ;
And still he bends an anxious ear.
His faltering penitence to hear ;
Still props him from the bloody sod.
Still, even when soul and body part.
Pours ghostly comfort on his heart,
And bids him trust in God I
Unheard he prays; — the death-pang's o'er!
Richard of Musgrave V)reathes no more.
1G2 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
XXIV.
As if exhausted in the fight,
Or musiug o'er the piteous sight,
The silent victor stands ;
His bearer did lie not unclasp,
Marked not the shouts, felt not the grasp
Of gratulating hands.
When lo I strange cries of wild surprise,
Mingled with seeming terror, rise
Among the Scottish bands ;
And all, amid tlie thronged array.
In panic haste gave open way
T(i a half-naked ghastly man.
Who downward from the castle ran:
He crossed the barriers at a bound.
And wild and haggard looked around.
As dizzy and in jiain ;
And all, upon the armed ground,
Knew William of Deloraine !
Each ladyc sprung from seat with speed;
Yaidted each marshal from his steed ;
" And who art thou," they cried,
" Who hast this battle fought and won ? "
His ])lumed helm was soon undone —
" Cranstoun of Teviot-side !
LAY OF TEE LAST MINSTREL. 163
For this fair prize I 've fought and won," —
And to the Ladye led her son.
XXV.
Full oft the rescued boy she kissed,
And often pressed liim to her breast ;
For, under all her dauntless show.
Her heart had throbbed at every blow ;
Yet not Lord Ci-anstoun deigned she greet.
Though low he kneeled at her feet.
Me lists not tell what words were made,
What Douglas, Home, and Howard, said —
— For Howard was a generous foe —
And how the clan united prayed
The Ladye would the feud forego,
And deign to bless the nuptial hour
Of Cranstouns Lord and Teviot's Flower.
XXVI.
She looked to river, looked to hill,
Thought on the Spirit's prophecy,
Then broke her silence stern and still, —
" Not you, but Fate, has vanquished me ;
Their influence kindly stars may shower
On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower.
For pride is quelled, and love is free."
She took fair Marsaret by the hand.
164
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto v.
Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand ;
That hand ti) Cranstoun's lord gave slie : —
" As I am true to tliee and thine,
Do thou be true to me and mine !
This clasp of love our bond shall be,
For this is your betrothing day.
And all these noljle lords shall stay.
To grace it witli their company." —
XXVII.
All as they left the listed ]ilain.
Much of the storv she did gain ;
CANTO V. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 165
How Craiistoun fought with Dcloraine,
And of his page, and of the boolc
Which from the wounded knight he took ;
And liow lie sought her castle high,
That morn, by hel}) of gramaryc ;
How, in Sir William's armor dight.
Stolen by his page, while slept the knight.
He took on him the single fight.
But half his tale he left unsaid.
And lingered till he joined the maid. —
Cared not the La<lye to betray
Her mystic arts in view of day ;
But well she thought, ere midnight came,
Of that strange page the pride to tame,
From his foul hands the book to save,
And send it back to Michael's grave. —
Needs not to tell each tender word
'Twixt Margaret and 'twixt Cranstoun's lord ;
Nor h(jw she told of f(irmer woes.
And how her bosom fell and rose
While he and Musgrave bandied blows. —
Needs not these lovers' joys to tell ;
One day, fair maids, you '11 know them well.
XXVIII.
William of Delorainc some chance
Had wakened from his deathlike trance ;
166
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
And taught that in the hstcd plain
Anuther, in his arms and shield,
Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield.
Under the name of Deluraine.
Hence, to the field unarmed he ran,
And hence his presence scared the clan.
Who held him for some fleeting wraith,
And not a man of blood and bi'eath.
Not much this new ally he loved,
Yet, when he saw what hap had proved,
lie greeted him riglit heartilic :
V. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 167
He would not waken old debate,
For he was void of rancorous hate,
Though rude and scant of courtesy ;
In raids he spilt but seldom blood.
Unless when men-at-arms withstood.
Or, as was meet, for deadly feud.
He ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow,
Ta'cn in fair fight from gallant foe :
And so 't was seen of him, e'en now,
When on dead Musgrave he looked down ;
Grief darkened on his rugged brow,
Though half disguised with a frown ;
And thus, while sorrow lient his head,
His foeman's epitaph he made :
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 Nawortli Castle, long months three.
Till ransomed 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.
168
lAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
Till one, or both of us, did die :
Yet rest thee God ! for well I know
1 ne'er shall find a nobler foe.
In all tlie northern counties here,
Wliose word is >Snal!le, s})ur, and spear.
Thou wert the best to follow gear !
'Twas pleasure, as we looked behind.
To see how thou the chase couldst wind.
Cheer the dark liloodhound on his way.
And with the Ijugie rouse the fray !
I "d give the lands of Deloraine,
Dark Musgrave were alive again." —
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
169
XXX.
So mourned he till Lord Dacre's band
Were bowning back to Cumberland.
They raised brave Musgrave from the field
And laid him on his bloody shield,
On levelled lances, four and four,
By turns, the noljle burden bore.
Before, at times, upon the gale
Was heard the Minstrel's plaintive wail ;
Behind, four priests in sable stole
Sung requiem for the warrior's soul :
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.
170 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto v.
The harp's wild notes, though hushed the song,
The mimic march of death prolong ;
Now seems it far, and now a-uear.
Now meets, and now eludes the ear.
Now seems some mountain side to sweep,
Now faintly dies in valley deep,
Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail.
Now the sad requiem, loads the gale ;
Last, o'er the wai'rior's closing grave.
Rung the full clmir in choral stave.
After due pause, they bade him tell
Why he, who touched the harp so avcU,
Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil,
Wander a poor and thankless soil.
When tlio more generous Southern Land
Would well requite his skilful hand.
The Aged Harper, howsoe'er
His only friend, his harp, was dear,
Liked not to hear it ranked so high
Above his flowing poesy :
Less liked he still that scornful jeer
Misprized the land he loved so dear ;
High was the sound as thus again
The bard resumed his minstrel strain.
CANTO THE SIXTH
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I.
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Wlio never to himself hath said,
Tliis is mj' own, my native land ?
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned.
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand ?
If such there l)reatlie, go, marlc 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
To the vile dust from whence he sprung.
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
174 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
II.
0 Caledonia, stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child !
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood.
Land of my sires ! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand !
Still, as I view each well-lvnown scene.
Think what is now and wliat hath been.
Seems as to me, of all Ijcreft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ;
And thus I love tliem better still,
Even in extremity of ill.
By Yarrow's streams still let me stray.
Though none should guide my feeble way !
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Altliough it chill my withered cheek ;
Still lay my head by Teviot stone.
Though there, forgotten and alone.
The bard may draw his parting groan.
III.
Not scorned like me, to Branksome Hall
The minstrels came, at festive call ;
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
Trooping they came from near and far,
The jovial priests of mirth and war ;
Alike for feast and fight prepared,
Battle and banquet both they shared.
Of late, before each martial clan
They blew their death-note in the van,
175
But now, for every merry mate
Rose the portcullis' iron grate ;
They sound the pipe, they strike the string,
They dance, they revel, and they sing.
Till the rude turrets shake and rino-.
176 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. c
IV.
Me lists not at this tide declare
The spleiidoi" of the spousal rite,
How mustered in the chajiel fair
Both maid and matron, sqnirc and knight :
Me lists not tell of owches rare,
Of mantles .sreen, and braided hair.
And kirtles furred with miniver ;
What plumage ^vared the altar round,
How spurs and ringing eliainlets sound :
And hard it were for bard to speak
The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek,
That lovel}' hue which comes and flies,
As awe and shame alternate rise !
V.
Some bards have sung, tiie Ladye high
Chapel or altar came not nigh.
Nor durst the rights of spousal grace,
So much she feared each holy place.
False slanders these: — I trust right well.
She wrought not Ijy forbidden spell.
For mighty words and signs liave power
O'er sprites in planetary hour;
Yet scarce I praise their venturous part,
Who tamper with such dangerous art.
LAY OF Tim LAST MINSTREL. 177
But this for faitliful truth I say, —
The Ladye by the altar stood,
Of sable velvet her arra}',
And on her head a crimson hood,
With pearls embroidei'ed and entwined,
Guarded with gold, with ermine lined ;
A merlin sat upon her wrist,
Held by a leash of silken twist.
VI.
The spousal rites were ended soon ;
'T was now the merry hour of noon,
And in the lofty arched hall
Was spread the gorgeous festival.
Steward and squire, with heedful haste.
Marshalled the rank of every guest ;
Pages, with ready blade, were there.
The mighty meal to carve and share :
O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane.
And princely peacock's gilded train,
And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave,
And cygnet from St. Mary's wave,
O'er ptarmigan and venison.
The priest had spoke his benison.
Then rose the riot and the din.
Above, beneath, without, within !
For, from the lofty balcony,
12
178
LAY OF TEE LAST MINSTIIEL.
Rung tnimiict, shalm, and psaltery :
Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffed,
Loudly they s]:iolve and loudly laughed :
Wliispcred young knights, in tone more mild,
To ladies fair, and ladies smiled.
The hooded hawks, high perched on Ijeam,
The clamor joined with whistling scream.
And flapped their wings and shook their bells,
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 179
In concert with the stag-hounds' yells.
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine,
From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine ;
Their tasks the busy sewers ply,
And all is mirth and revelry.
VII.
The Goblin Page, omitting still
No opportunity of ill.
Strove now, while blood ran hot and high.
To rouse debate and jealousy ;
Till Conrad, Lord of Wolfenstein,
By nature fierce, and warm with wine,
And now in humor highly crossed,
About some steeds his band had lost.
High words to words succeeding still,
Smote with his gauntlet stout Hunthill,
A hot and hardy Rutherford,
Whom men called Dickon Draw-the-Sword.
He took it on the page's saye,
Hunthill had driven these steeds away.
Then Howard, Home, and Douglas rose,
The kindling discord to compose :
Stern Rutherford right little said.
But bit his glove and shook his head. —
A fortnight thence, in Inglewood,
Stout Conrad, cold, and drenched in blood.
180 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
His bosom gored with many a wound,
Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found;
Unknown the manner of his death,
Gone was his brand, both sword and sheath ;
But ever from that time, 'twas said.
That Diclvon wore a Cologne blade.
VIII.
The dwarf, who feared his master's eye
Might his foul treachery csjiie,
Now sought the castle buttery,
Where many a yeoman, bold and free,
Revelled as merrily and well
As those that sat in lordly selle.
Watt Tinlinn there did frankly raise
The pledge to Arthur Fire-the-Braes :
And he, as by his breeding bound,
To Howard's merry-men sent it round.
To quit them, on the English side.
Red Roland Forster loudly cried,
" A deep carouse to yon fair bride ! " —
At every pledge, from vat and pail.
Foamed forth in floods the nut-brown ale.
While shout the riders every one ;
Such day of mirth ne'er cheered their clan,
Since old Buccleuch the name did gain.
When in the clench the buck was ta'en.
LAV OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
181
IX.
The wily page, with vengeful thought,
Remembered him of Tiiilimi's yew,
And swore it should be dearly bought
That ever he the ai'row drew.
First, he the yeoman did molest
With bitter gilje and taunting jest ;
Told how he fled at Solway strife,
And how Hob Armstrong cheered his wife;
Then, shunning still his powerful arm,
At unawares he wrought him harm ;
182 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. canto vi.
From trencher stole his choicest cheer,
Dashed from his lips his can of beer ;
Then, to his knee sly creeping on,
With bodkin pierced him to the bone :
The veuomed wound and festering joint
Long after rued that bodkin's point.
The startled yeoman swore and spurned,
And board and flagons overturned.
Riot and clamor wild began ;
Back to the hall the urchin ran,
Took in a darkling nook his post,
And grinned, and muttered. " Lost ! lost ! lost ! "
X.
By this, the Dame, lest farther fray
Should mar the concord of the day,
Had bid the minstrels tunc their lay.
And first stepped forth old Albert Grsemc,
The minstrel of that ancient name :
Was none who struck tiie harp so well
Within the Land Debatable ;
Well friended too, his hardy kin,
Whoever lost, were sure to win ;
They sought the beeves that made their bi'otii,
In Scotland and in England both.
In homely guise, as Nature bade.
His simple song the Borderer said.
[. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 183
XI.
ALBERT GR.EME.
It was an English lady bright,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And she would marry a Scottish knight,
For Love will still be lord of all.
Blitlicly they saw the rising sun,
When he shone fair on Carlisle wall ;
But they were sad ere day was done.
Though Love was still the lord of all.
Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ;
Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.
For she had lands both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ;
And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all !
xir.
That wine she had not tasted well,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
184 LAY OF THE LAST MIXSTEEL. can
When dead, iii her true love's arms, she fell,
For Love was still the lord of all.
He pierced her brother to the heart.
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall : —
So jicrish all would true love part.
That Love may still be lord of all !
And then he took the eross divine,
(Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
And died for her sake in Palestine,
So Love was still the lord of all.
Now all \-e lovers, that faithful prove,
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,)
Pray for their souls who died for love.
For Love shall still be lord of all I
CANTO VI. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTEEL. 185
XIII.
As ended Albert's simple lay,
Arose a bard of loftier port,
For sonnet, rhyme, and roundelay,
Renowned in haughty Henry's court :
There rung thy harp, unrivalled long,
Fitztraver of the silver song !
The gentle Surrey loved his lyre —
Who has not heard of Surrey's fame ?
His was the hero's soul of fire.
And his the bard's immortal name,
And his was love, exalted higli
By all the glow of chivalry.
XIV.
They sought, together, climes afar,
And oft, within some olive grove,
When even came with twinkling star.
They sung of Surrey's absent love.
His step the Italian peasant stayed.
And deemed tliat spirits from on high.
Round where some hermit saint was laid,
Were breathing heavenly melody ;
So sweet did harp and voice combine
To praise the name of Geraldine.
186
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
XV.
Fitztraver, 0, what tongue may say
The pangs thy faithful bosom knew,
When Surrey, of the deathless lay.
Ungrateful Tudor"s sentence slew ?
Regardless of the tyrant's frown,
His harp called wrath and vengeance down.
lie left, for NawortlTs iron towers,
Windsor's green glades and courtly bowers,
And faithful to his patron's name,
With Howard still Fitztraver came ;
Lord William's foremost favorite he,
And chief of all liis minstrolsv.
CANTO VI. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 187
XVI.
FITZTRAVER.
'T was All-souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high ;
He heard the midnight bell with anxious start,
Wliich told the mystic hour, approaching nigh,
When wise Cornelius promised by his art
To show to him the ladye of his heart,
Albeit betwixt them roared the ocean grim ;
Yet so the sage had bight to play his part,
That he should see her form in life and limb,
And mark if still she loved, and still she thought of him.
Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye,
To which the wizard led the gallant Kniglit,
Save that before a mirror, huge and high,
A hallowed tai)er slicd a glimmering light
On mystic implements of magic might.
On cross, and character, and talisman.
And almagest, and altar, nothing ))i-ight :
For fitful was tlic lustre, pale and wan,
As watch-light by the bed of some departing man.
But soon, within tliat mirror huge and high.
Was seen a self-emitted light to s'lcam :
188
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
And forms upon its breast the Earl 'gan spy,
Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream ;
Till, slow arranging and defined, they seem
To form a lordly and a lofty room.
Part lighted tiy a lamp with silver beam.
Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom,
And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom.
XIX.
Fair all the pageant — but liow passing fair
Tlie slender form which lay on couch of Ind !
O'er her white bosom strayed her hazel hair.
Pale her dear cheek, as if for love slie pined ;
All in her nitiht-robe loose slie lay reclined,
CANTO VI. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 189
And pensive read from tablet eburnine
Some strain that seemed her inmost soul to find : —
That favored strain was Surrey's raptured line,
That fair and lovely form the Lady Geraldine.
XX.
Slow rolled the clouds u])on the lovely form,
And swept the goodly vision all away —
So royal envy rolled the murky storm
O'er my beloved Master's glorious day.
Thou jealous, rutldess tyrant ! Heaven repay
On thee, and on thy children's latest line.
The wild caprice of thy despotic sway,
The gory bridal bed, the plundered shrine,
Tlic murdered Surrey's blood, the tears of Geraldine !
XXI.
Both Scots and Southern chiefs prolong
Applauses of Fitztraver's song ;
These hated Henry's name as death.
And those still held the ancient faith. —
Then from his seat with lofty air
Rose Hai'old, bard of brave St. Clair, —
St. Clair, who, feasting high at Home,
Had with that lord to battle come.
Harold was born where restless seas
Howl round the storm-swept Orcadcs ;
190
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
Where erst St. Clairs held princely sway
O'er isle and islet, strait and bay ; —
Still nods their palace to its fall,
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall ! —
Thence oft he marked fierce Pcntland rave.
As if grim Odin rode her wave ;
And watched the whilst, with visage pale
And throbbing heart, the struggling sail ;
For all of wonderfnl and wild
Had rapture for the lonely child.
XXII.
And much of wild and wonderful
In these rude isles might Fancy cull ;
For thither came in times afar
Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war,
I. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 191
The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood,
Skilled to prepare the raven's food.
Kings of the main their leaders brave,
Their barlcs the dragons of the wave;
And there, in many a stormy vale,
The Scald had told his wondrous tale,
And many a Runic column high
Had witnessed grim idolatry.
And thus had Harold in his youth
Learned many a Saga's rhyme uncouth, —
Of that Sea-Snakc, tremendous curled.
Whose monstrous circle girds the world ;
Of those dread Maids whose hideous yell
Maddens the battle's bloody swell ;
Of chiefs who, guided through the gloom
By the pale death-lights of the tomb.
Ransacked the graves of warriors old,
Their falchions wrenched from corpses' hold,
Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms.
And bade the dead arise to arms !
With war and wonder all on flame.
To Roslin's bowers young Harold came,
Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree.
He learned a milder minstrelsy ;
Yet something of the Northern spell
Mixed with the softer numbers well.
192 LAY OF THE LAST MIKSTltEL.
XXIII.
HAROLD.
0, listen, listen, ladies gay !
No haughty feat of arms I tell ;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay,
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
" Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew !
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
" The blackening wave is edged with white ;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ;
The fishers have heard the Water Si)rite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
" Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay ;
Then stay thee, fair, in Ravensheuch :
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ? "
" 'T is not because Lord Lindcsay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball.
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
" 'T is not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at tlie ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If 't is not filled by Rosabelle."
O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire light.
And redder than the bright moonbeam.
193
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copsewood glen ;
'T was seen from Dreyden's groves of oak.
And seen from caverned Hawthornden.
194 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
Seemed all on fire that chapel proud
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie,
Each baron, for a sable shroud.
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seemed all on fire within, around.
Deep sacristy and altar's pale ;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound.
And glimmered all the dead men's mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high.
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair —
So still they blaze when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin's barons Ijold
Lie Ijuried within that proud chapelle ;
Each one the holy vault doth hold —
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !
And each St. Clair was buried there.
With candle, with book, and with knell ;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung.
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
XXIV.
So sweet was Harold's piteous lay,
Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall.
VI. LAY OF THE LAST MLNSTREL. 195
Though, long before the sinking day,
A wondrous shade involved them all :
It was not eddying mist or fog,
Drained by the sun from fen or bog ;
Of no eclipse had sages told ;
And yet, as it came on apace.
Each one could scarce his neighbor's face,
Could scarce his own stretched hand behold.
A secret horror checked the feast,
And chilled the soul of every guest ;
Even the high Dame stood half aghast,
She knew some evil on the blast ;
The elvish page fell to the ground.
And, shuddering, muttered, "Found! found! found!"
XXV.
Then sudden through the darkened air
A flash of lightning came ;
So broad, so bright, so red the glare,
The castle seemed on flame.
Glanced every rafter of the hall,
Glanced every shield upon the wall ;
Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone.
Were instant seen and instant gone ;
Full through the guests' bedazzled band
Resistless flashed the levin-brand.
And filled the hall with smouldering smoke.
196
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
As on the elvisli page it broke.
It broke with thunder long and loud,
Dismaj-ed the brave, appalled the proud, -
From sea to sea the larum rung ;
On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal,
To arms the startled warders sprung.
When ended was the dreadful roar.
The elvish dwarf was seen no more !
XXVI.
Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall,
Some saw a sight, not seen l)v all :
I. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 197
That dreadful voice was heard by some
Cry, with loud summons, " Gylbin, come!"
And on the spot where burst the brand,
Just where the page had flung him down,
Some saw an arm, and some a hand,
And some the waving of a gown.
The guests in silence prayed and shook,
And terror dimmed each lofty look.
But none of all the astonished train
Was so dismayed as Deloraine ;
His blood did freeze, his brain did burn,
'T was feared liis mind would ne'er return ;
For he was speechless, ghastly, wan.
Like him of whom the story ran,
Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man.
At length, by fits, he darkly told.
With broken hint and shuddering cold —
That he had seen, right certainly,
A shape with amice wrapped around,
With a wrought Spanish baldric hound,
Like pilgrim from beyond the sea ;
And knew — but how it mattered not —
It was the wizard, Michael Scott.
XXVII.
The anxious crowd, with horror pale.
All trembling heard the wondrous tale ;
198 ZAY OF TEE LAST MINSTREL. canto vi.
No sound was made, no word was spoke,
Till noble Angus silence broke ;
And he a solemn sacred plight
Did to Saint Bride of Douglas make,
That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Al>bey, for the sake
Of Michael's restless sprite.
Then each, to ease his troul)lcd breast,
To some blessed saint his prayers addressed :
Some to Saint Modan made their vows,
Some to Saint Mary of the Lowes,
Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle,
Some to Our Lady of the Isle;
Each did his patron witness make
Tliat he such pilgrimage would take,
And monks should sing, and bells should toll,
All for the weal of Michael's soul.
While vows were ta'en, and prayers were prayed,
'T is said the noble Dame, dismayed.
Renounced for aye dark magic's aid.
XXVIII.
Nought of the bridal will I tell.
Which after in short space befell ;
Nor how brave sons and daughters fair
Blessed Teviot's Flower and Cranstoun's heir :
After such dreadful scene 't were vain
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTBEL.
199
To wake the note of mirth again :
More meet it were to mark the day
Of penitence and prater divine,
When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array.
Sought Meh'ose' holy shrine.
XXIX.
With naked foot, and sackcloth vest.
And arms enfolded on his breast,
Did every pilgrim go ;
The standers-by might hear uneath
Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath.
200 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
Through all the lengthened row:
No lordly look nor martial stride,
Gone was their glory, sunk their pride,
Forgotten their renown ;
Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide
To the high altar's hallowed side,
And there they knelt them down.
Above the suppliant chieftains wave
The banners of departed brave ;
Beneath the lettered stones were laid
The ashes of their fathers dead ;
From many a garnished niche around
Stern saints and tortured martyrs frowned.
XXX.
And slow up the dim aisle afar.
With sable cowl and scapular.
And snow-white stoles, in order due,
The holy fathers, two and two.
In long procession came ;
Taper and host and book they bare.
And holy banner, flourished fair
"With the Redeemer's name.
Above the prostrate pilgrim Imnd
The mitred abbot stretched his hand,
And blessed them as they kneeled ;
With holy cross he signed them all.
LAY OF THE LAST MLNSTREL.
201
And prayed they might be sage in hall
And fortunate in field.
Then mass was sung, and prayers were said,
And solemn requiem for the dead ;
And bells tolled out their mighty peal
For the departed spirit's weal ;
And ever in the office close
The hymn of intercession rose ;
And far the echoing aisles prolong
The awful burden of the song, —
202 LAY OF Till: LAST MINSTREL.
Dies ik^, dies illa,
solvet s^clum in fa villa,
While the peahug organ rung.
Were it meet with sacred strain
To close my lay, so light and vain,
Thus the holy Fathers sung : —
■giimn for tljc peat).
That day of wrath, that di'eadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay ?
How shall he meet that dreadful day ?
When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll,
When louder yet, and yet more dread.
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead !
O, on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Ce Thou the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away I
CANTO Yi. LAY OF THE LAST MINSTBEL. 203
Hushed is the harp — the Minstrel gone.
And did he wander forth alone?
Alone, in indigence and age,
To linger out his pilgrimage ?
No: close beneath proud Newark's tower
Arose the Minstrel's lowly bower,
A simple hut; but there was seen
The little garden hedged with green,
The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean.
There sheltered wanderers, by the blaze,
Oft heard the tale of other days ;
For much he loved to ope his door,
And give the aid he begged before.
So passed the winter's day ; but still,
When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill,
And July's eve, with balmy breath.
Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath,
When throstles sung in Hareliead-shaw,
And corn was green on Carterhaugh,
And flourished, broad, Blackandro's oak,
The aged harper's soul awoke !
Then would he sing achievements high,
And circumstance of chivalry.
Till the rapt traveller would stay.
20-1
LAY OF THE LAST MIS STEEL. canto vi.
Forgetful of the closing day ;
And noble youtlis, the strain to hear,
Forsook the hunting of the deer ;
And Yarrow, as he rolled along.
Bore burden to the Minstrel's song.
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