And martial murmurs, from below,
Proclaimed the approaching southern foe.
Through the dark wood, in mingled tone,
Were Border-pipes and bugles blown ;
The coursers' neighing he could ken,
And measured tread of marching men ;
While broke at times the solemn hum,
The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum ;

And banners tall, of crimson sheen,

Above the copse appear;

And, glistening through the hawthorns green, Shine helm, and shield, and spear.

XVII.

Light forayers first, to view the ground,
Spurred their fleet coursers loosely round;

Behind, in close array, and fast,

The Kendal archers, all in green,

Obedient to the bugle blast,

Advancing from the wood are seen.

To back and guard the archer band,

Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand:

A hardy race, on Irthing bred,

With kirtles white, and crosses red,
Arrayed beneath the banner tall,

That streamed o'er Acre's conquered wall;

And minstrels, as they marched in order,

Played, "Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border."

XVIII.

Behind the English bill and bow,

The mercenaries, firm and slow,

Moved on to fight, in dark array,

By Conrad led of Wolfenstein,

Who brought the band from distant Rhine,
And sold their blood for foreign pay.

The camp their home, their law the sword,
They knew no country, owned no lord:

They were not armed like England's sons,

But bore the levin-darting guns;

Buff-coats, all frounced and 'broidered o'er, And morsing-horns and scarfs they wore;

Each better knee was bared, to aid

The warriors in the escalade ;

All, as they marched, in rugged tongue,
Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung.

XIX.

But louder still the clamour grew,

And louder still the minstrels blew,
When from beneath the greenwood tree,
Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry;

His men at arms, with glaive and spear,
Brought up the battle's glittering rear.
There many a youthful knight, full keen
To gain his spurs, in arms was seen;
With favour in his crest, or glove,

Memorial of his ladye-love.

So rode they forth in fair array,

Till full their lengthened lines display;

Then called a halt, and made a stand,

And cried, "St. George, for merry England!"—

XX.

Now every English eye, intent,

On Branksome's armed towers was bent;

So near they were, that they might know

The straining harsh of each cross-bow;
On battlement and bartizan

Gleamed axe, and spear, and partisan;
Falcon and culver, on each tower,

Stood prompt their deadly hail to shower;
And flashing armour frequent broke,

From eddying whirls of sable smoke,
Where, upon tower and turret head,
The seething pitch and molten lead
Reeked, like a witch's cauldron red.
While yet they gaze, the bridges fall,
The wicket opes, and from the wall

Rides forth the hoary Seneschal.

XXI.

Armed he rode, all save the head,

His white beard o'er his breast-plate spread; Unbroke by age, erect his seat,

He ruled his eager courser's gait;

Forced him, with chastened fire, to prance,

And, high curvetting, slow advance :
In sign of truce, his better hand
Displayed a peeled willow wand;
His squire, attending in the rear,
Bore high a gauntlet on a spear.
When they espied him riding out,
Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout

Sped to the front of their array,

To hear what this old knight should say.

XXII.

"Ye English warden lords, of you Demands the Ladye of Buccleuch, Why, 'gainst the truce of Border-tide,

In hostile guise ye dare to ride,