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When lo! strange cries of wild surprise, Mingled with seeming terror, rise
Among the Scottish bands; And all, amid the thronged array, In panic haste gave open way To a half-naked ghastly man, Who downward from the castle ran: He crossed the barriers at a bound, And wild and hagard looked around, As dizzy, and in pain;And all, upon the armed ground, Knew William of Deloraine! Each ladye sprung from seat with speed; Vaulted each marshal from his steed;
"And who art thou," they cried, "Who hast this battle fought and won?" His plumed helm was soon undone—
"Cranstoun of Teviot-side! For this fair prize I've fought and won,"— And to the Ladye led her son.
Full oft the rescued boy she kissed,
—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 Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower.
She looked to river, looked to hill,
Then broke her silence stern and still,—
That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she:— "As I am true to thee and thine, Do thou be true to me and mine!
This clasp of love our bond shall be;
That morn, by help of gramarye;
How, in Sir William's armour 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 Ladye 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 how she told of former 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'll know them well.
XXVIII. William of Deloraine, some chance Had wakened from his deathlike trance;
And taught that, in the listed plain, Another, in his arms and shield, Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield,
Under the name of Deloraine. 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 breath. Not much this new ally he loved, Yet, when he saw what hap had proved,
He greeted him right heartilie: 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,
* The spectral apparition of a living person.