THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO THIRD. I. AND said I that my limbs were old; And said I that my blood was cold, And that my kindly fire was fled, 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 halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the And men below, and saints above; grove, For love is heaven, and heaven is love. III. So thought Lord Cranstoun, as I ween, 13 That warrior's steed, so dapple-gray, Was dark with sweat, and splashed with clay; As if he had ridden the live-long night; 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, That marked the foemen's feudal hate; For question fierce, and proud reply, V. In rapid round the Baron bent; He sighed a sigh, and prayed a prayer ; The prayer was to his patron saint, The sigh was to his ladye fair, 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. VI. 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 past, Deep in his bosom broke at last. Still sate the warrior saddle-fast, Till, stumbling in the mortal shock, The Baron onward passed his course; Nor knew-so giddy rolled his brain His foe lay stretched upon the plain. VII. But when he reined his courser round, And saw his foeman on the ground He bade his Page to staunch the wound, 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. |