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Of noble race the Ladye came;Her father was a clerk of fame,

Of Bethune's line of Picardie: He learned the art, that none may name,

In Padua, far beyond the sea.
Men said, he changed his mortal frame

By feat of magic mystery;
For when, in studious mood, he paced

St Andrew's cloistered hall,
His form no darkening shadow traced
Upon the sunny wall!


And of his skill, as bards avow,

He taught that Ladye fair,
Till to her bidding she could bow

The viewless forms of air.
And now she sits in secret bower,
In old Lord David's western tower,.

And listens to a heavy sound,

That moans the mossy turrets round.

Is it the roar of Teviot's tide,

That chafes against the scaur's* red side I

Is it the wind, that swings the oaks?Is it the echo from the rocks?What may it be, the heavy sound, That moans old Branksome's turrets round:


At the sullen, moaning sound,

The ban-dogs bay and howl; And, from the turrets round,

Loud whoops the startled owl.
In the hall, both squire and knight

Swore that a storm was near,
And looked forth to view the night;

But the night was still and clear!

* Scaur, a precipitous bank of eartk.


From the sound of Teviot's tide,
Chafing with the mountain's side,
From the groan of the wind-swung oak,
From the sullen echo of the rock,
From the voice of the coming storm,

The Ladye knew it well!
It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke,

And he called on the Spirit of the Fell.


"Sleep'st thou, brother!"

fountain &ptrtt,

—" Brother, nay—
On my hills the moon-beams play.
From Craik-cross to Skelf hill-pen,
By every rill, in every glen,
Merry elves their morrice pacing,

To aerial minstrelsy,
Emerald rings on brown heath tracing,
Trip it deft and merrily.

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Up, and mark their nimble feet!
Up, and list their music sweet!"


Hiber. &pirtn

"Tears of an imprisoned maiden
Mix with my polluted stream;
Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden,

Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam.
Tell me, thou, who viewest the stars,
When shall cease these feudal jars?
• What shall be the maiden's fate.'
Who shall be the maiden's mate?"


fountain Spit-in

"Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll,
In utter darkness round the pole;
The Northern Bear lowers black and grim;
Orion's studded belt is dim:

Twinkling faint, and distant far,
Shimmers through mist each planet star;

111 may I read their high decree!
But no kind influence deign they shower
On Teviot's tide, and Branksome's tower, Till pride be quelled, and love be free."

XVIII. The unearthly voices ceast,

And the heavy sound was still;
It died on the river's breast,

It died on the side of the hill.—
But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near;
For it rung in the Ladye's bower, And it rung in the Ladye's ear.
She raised her stately head,

And her heart throbbed high with pride:— "Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend,

Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride J"

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