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, 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, On foaming steed, in full career, With brand to aid, when as the spear Should shiver in the course : But he, the jovial Harper, taught Me, yet a youth, how it was fought, He knew each ordinance and clause Of black Lord Archibald's battle laws, He brooked not, he, that scoffing tongue For this, when they the goblet plied, And such rude taunt had chafed his pride, The bard of Reull he slew. On Teviot's side in fight they stood, And tuneful hands were stained with blood; Where still the thorn's white branches wave, Memorial o'er his rival's grave. XXXV. Why should I tell the rigid doom, That dragged my master to his tomb; How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair, Wept till their eyes were dead and dim, And wrung their hands for love of him, Who died at Jedwood Air? He died!—his scholars, one by one, To the cold silent grave are gone; To muse o'er rivalries of yore, And grieve that I shall hear no more He paused: the listening dames again Marvelled the Duchess how so well Of feuds, whose memory was not; Had blotted from her rolls their name, And twined round some new minion's head The fading wreath for which they bled; In sooth, 't was strange, this old man's verse Could call them from their marble hearse. The Harper smiled, well-pleased; for ne'er Was flattery lost on poet's ear: A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile; |