The hands, the spear that lately grasped, Were interchanged in greeting dear; Visors were raised, and faces shewn, And many a friend, to friend made known, Partook of social cheer. Some drove the jolly bowl about; With dice and draughts some chased the day; And some, with many a merry shout, In riot, revelry, and rout Pursued the foot-ball play. VII. Yet, be it known, had bugles blown, Or sign of war been seen, Those bands, so fair together ranged, Those hands, so frankly interchanged, Had dyed with gore the green: The merry shout by Teviot-side Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide, And in the groan of death; And whingers, now in friendship bare, The social meal to part and share, Had found a bloody sheath. 'Twixt truce and war, such sudden change Was not unfrequent, nor held strange, In the old Border-day ; But yet on Branksome's towers and town, In peaceful merriment, sunk down The sun's declining ray. VIII. The blithesome signs of wassel gay Soon through the latticed windows tall, Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone ; With merry harp and beakers' clang; |