But when he caught the measure wild, In varying cadence, soft or strong, The present scene, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO FIRST. I. THE feast was over in Branksome tower, Jesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, II. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Or crowded round the ample fire: And urged, in dreams, the forest race, III. Nine and twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome hall; Nine and twenty squires of name Brought them their steeds from bower to stall; Nine and twenty yeomen tall Waited, duteous, on them all: They were all knights of mettle true, IV. Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred. V. Ten squires, ten yeomen, mailclad men, A hundred more fed free in stall: Such was the custom of Branksome hall. VI. Why do these steeds stand ready dight? They watch, against Southern force and guile, From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. VII. Such is the custom of Branksome hall.- But he, the chieftain of them all, Bards long shall tell, How lord Walter fell! When startled burghers fled, afar, VIII. Can piety the discord heal, Or stanch the death-feud's enmity? *The war cry, or gathering word, of a Border clan. Can christian lore, can patriot zeal, In mutual pilgrimage they drew; For chiefs, their own red falchions slew: While Cessford owns the rule of Car, While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott, 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 bier Her son lisped from the nurse's knee "And, if I live to be a man, "My father's death revenged shall be!" Then fast the mother's tears did seek To dew the infant's kindling cheek. |