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 Gamescleuch's dusky height,

His ready lances Thirlestane brave

Arrayed beneath a banner bright.

The tressured fleur-de-luce he claims

To wreathe his shield, since royal James,
Encamped 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 revealed-

Ready, aye ready," for the field.

IX.

An aged knight, to danger steeled,

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-embosomed mansion stood;

In the dark glen, so deep below,

The herds of plundered 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 spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed,
Albeit the blanched locks below

Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow:
Five stately warriors drew the 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.

Hearken, Ladye, to the tale,

How thy sires won fair Eskdale.

And hence, in fair remembrance worn,
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ;
Hence his high motto shines revealed-

"Ready, aye ready," for the field.

IX.

An aged knight, to danger steeled,

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-embosomed mansion stood;

In the dark glen, so deep below,

The herds of plundered 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 spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed,
Albeit the blanched locks below

Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow:
Five stately warriors drew the 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.

Hearken, Ladye, to the tale,

How thy sires won fair Eskdale.