THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO FOURTH. I. SWEET Teviot! on thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willowed shore. Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, since Time was born, Since first they rolled upon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed, Nor started at the bugle-horn. II. Unlike the tide of human time, Which, though it change in ceaseless flow, Retains each grief, retains each crime, Its earliest course was doomed to know, And, darker as it downward bears, Is stained with past and present tears. The hour, my brave, my only boy, Why was not I beside him laid!— Enough he died the death of fame; Enough he died with conquering Græme. III. Now over Border dale and fell, Full wide and far was terror spread; For pathless marsh, and mountain cell, The frightened flocks and herds were pent And maids and matrons dropped the tear, While ready warriors seized the spear. From Branksome's towers, the watchman's eye Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy, Which, curling in the rising sun, Shewed southern ravage was begun. IV. Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried- Wat Tinlinn, from the Liddle-side, They sieged him a whole summer night, But fled at morning; well they knew, V. While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman Entered the echoing barbican. He led a small and shaggy nag, It bore his wife and children twain; Laughed to her friends among the crowd. He was of stature passing tall, But sparely formed, and lean withal: A battered morion on his brow; A leathern jack, as fence enow, On his broad shoulders loosely hung; His spear, six Scottish ells in length, Seemed newly dyed with gore: His shafts and bow, of wonderous strength, His hardy partner bore. VI. Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn shew The tidings of the English foe : "Belted Will Howard is marching here, And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear. And all the German hagbut men, Who have long lain at Askerten: They crossed the Liddle at curfew hour, The fiend receive their souls therefor! It had not been burned this year and more. |