Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne,

The terrors of the robber's horn;

Cliffs, which, for many a later year,

The warbling Doric reed shall hear,

When some sad swain shall teach the grove,

Ambition is no cure for love!

XXVIII.

Unchallenged, thence past Deloraine
To ancient Riddel's fair domain,

Where Aill, from mountains freed,
Down from the lakes did raving come,
Cresting each wave with tawny foam,

Like the mane of a chesnut 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 counter to tail,

And the rider was armed complete in mail :
Never heavier man and horse

Stemm'd 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 gain'd the landing place.

Now Bowden Moor the march-man won,

And sternly shook his plumed head,

As glanced his eye o'er Halidon ;†

For on his soul the slaughter red

* Barded, or barbed,-applied to a horse accoutered with defensive armour.

↑ Halidon-Hill, on which the battle of Melrose was fought.

Of that unhallow'd morn arose,

When first the Scott and Car 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

Reek'd on dark Elliot's Border spear.

XXXI.

In bitter mood he 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,
Rose, dimly huge, the dark Abbaye.
When Hawick he pass'd, had curfew rung,
Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung.

* Lauds, the midnight service of the Catholic church.

The sound, upon the fitful gale,

In solemn wise did rise and fail,

Like that wild harp, whose magic tone

Is waken'd by the winds alone.

But when Melrose he reach'd, 'twas silence all

He meetly stabled his steed in stall,

And sought the convent's lonely wall.

HERE paused the harp and with its swell

:

The Master's fire and courage fell:

Dejectedly, and low, he bow'd,
And gazing timid on the crowd,
He seem'd 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 wand'ring long,

Had done his hand and harp some wrong.

The Duchess, and her daughters fair,

And every gentle ladye there,

Each after each, in due degree,

Gave praises to his melody;

His hand was true, his voice was clear, And much they long'd the rest to hear. Encouraged thus, the Aged Man,

After meet rest, again began.