Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good, Beneath the eagle and the rood; And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale, Have to proud Angus come; 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!— Level each harquebuss on row; Draw, merry archers, draw the bow; Up, bill-men, to the walls, and cry, Dacre for England, win or die !"— XXX. "Yet hear," quoth Howard, " calmly hear, Nor deem my words the words of fear : For who, in field or foray slack, Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back ? But thus to risque our Border flower In strife against a kingdom's power, Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three, Certes, were desperate policy. Nay, take the terms the Ladye made, E'er conscious of the advancing aid: Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine In single fight; and if he gain, He gains for us; but if he's crossed, 'Tis but a single warrior lost : The rest, retreating as they came, Avoid defeat, and death, and shame." XXXI. Ill could the haughty Dacre brook His brother-warden's sage rebuke; And yet his forward step he staid, And slow and sullenly obeyed. Did these two lords in friendship ride; And this slight discontent, men say, Cost blood upon another day. XXXII. The pursuivant-at-arms again Before the castle took his stand; His trumpet called, with parleying strain, Stout Deloraine to single fight; A gauntlet at their feet he laid, And thus the terms of fight he said : "If in the lists good Musgrave's sword Howe'er it falls, the English band, XXXIII. Unconscious of the near relief, The proffer pleased each Scottish chief, Though much the Ladye sage gainsayed; For though their hearts were brave and true, From Jedwood's recent sack they knew, How tardy was the regent's aid: And you may guess the noble Dame Durst not the secret prescience own, Sprung from the art she might not name, By which the coming help was known. Closed was the compact, and agreed, That lists should be inclosed with speed, Beneath the castle, on a lawn: They fixed the morrow for the strife, Should for himself and chieftain stand, XXXIV. I know right well, that, in their lay, Full many minstrels sing and say, Such combat should be made on horse, |