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 place,

Was but lightly held of his gay ladye.

VIII.

From fair St Mary's silver wave,

From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height,

His ready lances Thirlstane brave

Array'd beneath a banner bright.

The tressured fleur-de-luce he claims

To wreathe his shield, since royal James,
Encamp'd 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 reveal'd-

"Ready, aye ready," for the field.

IX.

An aged Knight, to danger steel'd,

With many a moss-trooper, 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-embosom'd mansion stood;

In the dark glen, so deep below,

The herds of plunder'd England low,

His bold retainers' daily food,

And bought with danger, blows, and blood.

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 spurn'd at rest,
And still his brows the helmet press'd,
Albeit the blanched locks below

Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow: Five stately warriors drew their 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 band,

Came trooping down the Todshawhill ;

By the sword they won their land,

And by the sword they hold it still.

Harken, 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 reck'd of a tame liege lord.

The Earl to fair Eskdale came,

Homage and seignory to claim :

Of Gilbert the Galliard a heriot* he sought,

Saying, "Give thy best steed, as a vassal ought."
-"Dear to me is my bonny white steed,
Oft has he help'd me at pinch of need;
Lord and Earl though thou be, I trow,

I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou."-
Word on word gave fuel to fire,

Till so highly blazed the Beattisons' ire,
But that the Earl his flight had ta'en,

The vassals there their lord had slain.

*The feudal superior, in certain cases, was entitled to the best horse of the vassal, in name of Heriot, or Herezeld.

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 Branksome gate,

XI.

The Earl was a wrathful man to see,

Full fain avenged would he be.

In haste to Branksome's Lord he spoke,
Saying "Take these traitors to thy yoke;
For a cast of hawks, and a purse of gold,
All-Eskdale I'll sell thee, to have and hold:
Beshrew thy heart, of the Beattisons' clan
If thou leavest on Esk a landed man;
But spare Woodkerrick's lands alone,
For he lent me his horse to escape upon."
A glad man then was Branksome bold!
Down he flung him the purse of gold;
To Eskdale soon he spurr'd amain,

And with him five hundred riders has ta'en.

VOL. I.

G

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