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When for the lists they sought the plain,
The stately Ladye's silken rein

Did noble Howard hold;
Unarmed by her side he walked,
And much, in courteous phrase, they talked

Of feats of arms of old.
Costly his garb—his Flemish ruff
Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff,

With satin slashed, and lined;
Tawny his boot, and gold his spur,
His cloak was all of Poland fur,
His hose with silver twined;
His Bilboa blade, by Marchmen felt,
Hung in a broad and studded belt;
Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still
Called noble Howard, Belted Will.


Behind Lord Howard and the Dame,
Fair Margaret on her palfrey came,

Whose foot-cloth swept the ground White was her wimple, and her veil, And her loose locks a chaplet pale

Of whitest roses bound; The lordly Angus, by her side, In courtesy to cheer her tried; Without his aid, her hand in vain Had strove to guide her broidered rein. He deemed, she shuddered at the sight Of warriors met for mortal fight; But cause of terror, all unguessed, Was fluttering in her gentle breast, When, in their chairs of crimson placed, The Dame and she the barriers graced.


Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch, An English knight led forth to view; Scarce rued the boy his present plight, So much he longed to see the fight.

Within the lists, in knightly pride,
High Home and haughty Dacre ride;
Their leading staffs of steel they wield,
As marshals of the mortal field;
While to each knight their care assigned
Like vantage of the sun and wind.
Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim,
In king and queen, and warden's name,

That none, while lasts the strife,
Should dare, by look, or sign, or word,
Aid to a champion to afford,

On peril of his life; And not a breath the silence broke, Till thus the alternate Heralds spoke :—


Here standeth Richard of Musgrave,
Good knight and true, and freely born,

Amends from Deloraine to crave,
For foul despiteous scathe and scorn.

He sayeth, that William of Deloraine
Is traitor false by Border laws;

This with his sword he will maintain,
So help him God, and his good cause!


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Here standeth William of Deloraine,
Good knight and true, of noble strain,
Who sayeth, that foul treason's stain,
Since he bore arms, ne'er soiled his coat
And that, so help him God above,
He will on Musgrave's body prove,
He lies most foully in his throat.

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Forward, brave champions, to the fight! Sound trumpets!

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« God defend the right I"

Then, Teviot! how thine echoes rang,
When bugle-sound and trumpet-clang

Let loose the martial foes,
And in mid list, with shield poised high,
And measured step and wary eye,

The combatants did close.


LI would it suit your gentle ear,

Ye lovely listeners, to hear

How to the axe the helms did sound,

And blood poured down from many a wound;

For desperate was the strife and long,

And either warrior fierce and strong.

But, were each dame a listening knight,

I well could tell how warriors fight;

For I have seen war's lightning flashing,

Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing,

Seen through red blood the war-horse dashing,

And scorned, amid the reeling strife,

To yield a step for death or life.

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