No knight in Cumberland so good, But William may count with him kin and blood. When English blood swelled Ancram ford; Himself had seen him dubbed a knight. For the young heir of Branksome's line, Through me no friend shall meet his doom; Here, while I live, no foe finds room. Then, if thy lords their purpose urge, Take our defiance loud and high; Our slogan is their lyke-wake* dirge, XXIV. Proud she looked round, applause to claim- * Lyke-wake, the watching a corpse previous to interment. His bugle Watt of Harden blew; Pensils and pennons wide were flung, To heaven the Border slogan rung, "St Mary for the young Buccleuch !" The English war-cry answered wide, And forward bent each southern spear; Each Kendal archer made a stride, And drew the bow-string to his ear; But, e'er a gray-goose shaft had flown, XXV. "Ah! noble Lords!" he, breathless, said, "What treason has your march betrayed? What make you here, from aid so far, Before you walls, around you war? Your foemen triumph in the thought, That in the toils the lion's caught. Already on dark Ruberslaw The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw *; The lances, waving in his train, Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain ; And on the Liddle's northern strand, To bar retreat to Cumberland, Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good, Beneath the eagle and the rood; And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale, 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." *Weapon-schaw, the military array of a county. XXVI. "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!" XXVII. "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." XXVIII. Ill could the haughty Dacre brook And slow and sullenly obeyed: But ne'er again the Border side Did these two lords in friendship ride; And this slight discontent, men say, Cost blood upon another day. |