Either receive within thy towers Two hundred of my master's powers, And this fair boy, to London led, Shall good King Edward's page be bred." XXV. He ceased-and loud the boy did cry, And stretched his little arms on high; Implored for aid each well-known face, And strove to seek the Dame's embrace. A moment changed that Ladye's cheer, Gushed to her eye the unbidden tear; She gazed upon the leaders round, And dark and sad each warrior frowned; Then, deep within her sobbing breast She locked the struggling sigh to rest; *Note of assault. Unaltered and collected stood, And thus replied, in dauntless mood: XXVI. "Say to your Lords of high emprize, Who war on women and on boys, That either William of Deloraine Will cleanse him, by oath, of march-treason stain, Or else he will the combat take 'Gainst Musgrave, for his honour's sake. No knight in Cumberland so good, But William may count with him kin and blood. When English blood swelled Ancram ford; And bare him ably in the flight, Himself had seen him dubbed a knight. God be his aid, and God be mine; Through me no friend shall meet his doom; Here, while I live, no foe finds room. Then, if thy Lords their purpose urge, Take our defiance loud and high: Our slogan is their lyke-wake* dirge, Our moat, the grave where they shall lie." XXVII. Proud she looked round, applause to claim- His bugle Watt of Harden blew ; "St Mary for the young Buccleuch !" The English war-cry answered wide, And forward bent each southern spear; Each Kendal archer made a stride, Lyke-wake, the watching a corpse previous to interment. And drew the bow-string to his ear; Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown ; But, ere a grey-goose shaft had flown, A horseman galloped from the rear. XXVIII. "Ah! noble Lords!" he, breathless, said, "What treason has your march betrayed? What make you here, from aid so far, Before you walls, around you war ? That in the toils the lion's caught. Already on dark Ruberslaw The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw; The lances, waving in his train, Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain; And on the Liddle's northern strand, To bar retreat to Cumberland, Weapon-schaw, the military array of a county. Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good, Beneath the eagle and the rood; And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale, And all the Merse and Lauderdale Have risen with haughty Home. An exile from Northumberland, In Liddesdale I've wandered long; But still my heart was with merry England, And cannot brook my country's wrong; And hard I've spurred all night, to shew The mustering of the coming foe." XXIX. "And let them come!" fierce Dacre cried; "For soon yon crest, my father's pride, That swept the shores of Judah's sea, And waved in gales of Galilee, From Branksome's highest towers displayed, Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid !— |