THE

LAY

OF

THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FIRST.

INTRODUCTION.

The way was long, the wind was cold,
The Minstrel was infirm and old;
His withered cheek, and tresses gray,
Seemed to have known a better day;
The harp, his sole remaining joy,
Was carried by an orphan boy.
The last of all the bards was he,
Who sung of Border chivalry;
For, well-a-day! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead;
And he, neglected and oppressed,
Wished to be with them, and at rest.
No more, on prancing palfrey borne,
He carolled, light as lark at morn;

No longer courted and caressed,

High placed in hall, a welcome guest,

He poured, to lord and lady gay,

The unpremeditated lay: •

Old times were changed, old manners gone

A stranger filled the Stuart's throne;

The bigots of the iron time

Had called his harmless art a crime.

A wandering harper, scorned and poor,

'He begged his bread from door to door;

And tuned, to please a peasant's ear,

The harp, a king had loved tb hear.

He passed where Newark's stately tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower: The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye— No humbler resting place was nigh. With hesitating step, at last, The embattled portal-arch he passed,

$
Whose ponderous grate and massy bar,

Had oft rolled back the tide of war,

But never closed the iron door

Against the desolate and poor.

The Duchess* marked his weary pace,

His timid mien, and reverend face,

And bade her page the menials tell,

That they should tend the old man well:

For she had known adversity,

Though born in such a high degree;

In pride of power, in beauty's bloom,

Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb!

When kindness had his wants supplied.
And the old man was gratified,
Began to rise his minstrel pride:

* Anne, Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, representative of the ancient Lords of Buccleuch, and widow of the unfortunate James, Duke of Monmouth, who was beheaded in 1685.