344

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 infrequent, nor held strange,

In the old Border-day t

But yet on Branksome's towers and town,
In peaceful merriment, sunk down
The sun's declining ray.

VIII.
The blithsome signs of wassel gay
Decay'd not with the dying day;
Soon through the latticed windows tall
Of lofty Branksome's lordly hall,
Divided square by shafts of stone,
Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone;
Nor less the gilded rafters rang
With merry harp and beakers' clang:
And frequent, on the darkening plain,

Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran,
As bands, their stragglers to regain,

Give the shrill watchword of their clan ;+
And revellers, o'er their bowls, proclaim
Douglas or Dacre's conquering name.

IX.

Less frequent heard, and fainter still,

At length the various clamours died:
And you might hear, from Branksome hill,
No sound but Teviot's rushing tide;
Save when the changing sentinel
The challenge of his watch could tell;
And save, where, through the dark profound,
The clanging axe and hammer's sound
Rung from the nether lawn;
For many a busy hand toil'd there,

Strong pales to shape, and beams to square, §
The lists' dread barriers to prepare
Against the morrow's dawn.

All in her lonely bower apart,

In broken sleep she lay :
By times, from silken couch she rose;
While yet the banner'd hosts repose,
She viewed the dawning day:

Of all the hundreds sunk to rest,
First woke the loveliest and the best.
XI.

She gazed upon the inner court,
Which in the tower's tall shadow lay;
Where coursers' clang, and stamp, and snort,
Had rung the livelong yesterday;

Now still as death; till stalking slow,-
The jingling spurs announced his tread,-
A stately warrior pass'd below;

But when he raised his plumed head-
Blessed Mary! can it be?-
Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers,

He walks through Branksome's hostile towers,
With fearless step and free;

She dared not sign, she dared not speak-
Oh! if one page's slumbers break,

His blood the price must pay!

Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears,
Not Margaret's yet more precious tears,
Shall buy his life a day.

XII.

Yet was his hazard small; for well
You may bethink you of the spell
Of that sly urchin page;
This to his lord he did impart,
And made him seem, by glamour art,
A knight from Hermitage.
Unchallenged thus, the warder's post,
The court, unchallenged, thus he cross'd,
For all the vassalage:

But O! what magic's quaint disguise
Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyes!

She started from her seat;

While with surprise and fear she strove, And both could scarcely master loveLord Henry's at her feet.

XIII.

Oft have I mused, what purpose bad
That foul malicious urchin had

To bring this meeting round;
For happy love's a heavenly sight,
And by a vile malignant sprite
In such no joy is found;

And oft I've deem'd, perchance he thought
Their erring passion might have wrought
Sorrow, and sin, and shame;

And death to Cranstoun's gallant Knight,
And to the gentle ladye bright,
Disgrace, and loss of fame.
But earthly spirit could not tell

"Then was there nought but bow and spear, mixed fearlessly and peaceably with each other in mutual sports and familiar intercourse, until a casual fray arose:

In the 29th stanza of this canto, there is an attempt to express were led to regard their neighbours. some of the mixed feelings, with which the Borderers on each side

I Patten remarks, with bitter censure, the disorderly conduct of the English Borderers, who attended the Protector Somerset on his expedition against Scotland. "As we wear then a setling, and the tents a setting up, among all things els commendable in our hole journey, one thing seemed to me an intollerable disorder and abuse: that whereas always, both in all tounes of war, and in all campes of armies, quietness and stillness, without noise, is, principally in the night, after the watch is set, observed, ( nede not reason why,) our northern prikers, the Borderers, notwith standyng, with great enormitie, (as thought me.) and not unlike (to be playn) unto a masterles hounde howlying in a hie way when he hath lost him he waited upon, sum hoopynge, sum whistlyng. and most with crying, A Berwyke! A Berwyke! A Fenwyke! A Fenwyke! A Bulmer! A Bulmer! or so ootherwise as theyr cap tains names wear, never lin'de these troublous and dangerous noyses all the nyghte longe. They said, they did it to find their captain and fellows; but if the souldiers of our oother countreys and sheres had used the same maner, in that case we should have oft tymes had the state of our campe more like the outrage of a a feat of war, in mine opinion, that might right well be left. I dissolute huntyng, than the quiet of a well ordered armye. It is could reherse causes (but yf I take it, they are better unspoken than uttred, unless the faut wear sure to be amended) that might shew thei move alweis more peral to our armie, but in their one nyght's so doynge, than they shew good service (as some sey) in $ [This line is not in the first Edition.1 a hoole vyage."-Apud DALZELL'S Fragments, p. 75.

The heart of them that loved so well.
True love's the gift which God has given
To man alone beneath the heaven:
It is not fantasy's hot fire,

Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly;
It liveth not in fierce desire,

With dead desire it doth not die ;
It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,
In body and in soul can bind.-

Now leave we Margaret and her Knight,
To tell you of the approaching fight.
XIV.

Their warning blasts the bugles blew,
The pipe's shrill portt aroused each clan;
In haste, the deadly strife to view,

The trooping warriors eager ran:
Thick round the lists their lances stood,
Like blasted pines in Ettrick wood;
To Branksome many a look they threw,
The combatants' approach to view,
And bandied many a word of boast,
About the knight each favour'd most.
XV.

Meantime full anxious was the Dame;
For now arose disputed claim,
Of who should fight for Deloraine,
"Twixt Harden and 'twixt Thirlestaine :
They 'gan to reckon kin and rent,
And frowning brow on brow was bent;
But yet not long the strife-for lo!
Himself, the Knight of Deloraine,
Strong, as it seem'd, and free from pain,
In armour sheath'd from top to toe,
Appear'd, and craved the combat due.
The Dame her charm successful knew,§
And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew.

XVI.

When for the lists they sought the plain,
The stately Ladye's silken rein
Did noble Howard hold;

Unarmed by her side he walk'd,

And much, in courteous phrase, they talk'd
Of feats of arms of old.
Costly his garb-his Flemish ruff
Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff,
With satin slash'd and lined;
Tawny his boot, and gold his spur,
His cloak was all of Poland fur,
His hose with silver twined;

His Bilboa blade, by Marchmen felt,
Hung in a broad and studded belt;
Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still
Call'd noble Howard, Belted Will.

XVII.

Behind Lord Howard and the Dame,
Fair Margaret on her palirey came,
Whose foot-cloth swept the ground:
White was her wimple, and her veil,
And her loose locks a chaplet pale
Of whitest roses bound;
The lordly Angus, by her side,
In courtesy to cheer her tried;
Without his aid, her hand in vain
Had strove to guide her broider'd rein.
He deem'd, she shudder'd at the sight
Of warriors met for mortal fight:
But cause of terror, all unguess'd,
Was fluttering in her gentle breast,
When, in their chairs of crimson placed,
The Dame and she the barriers graced.

* In the first edition," the silver cord;"—
"Yea, love, indeed, ie light from heaven;

A spark of that immortal fire

With anz-la shared, by Alla given,

To lift from earth our low desire," &c.
The Giaour.]

A mattial piece of music, adapted to the bagpipes. It may be noticed that the late Lord Napier, the representative of the Scotts of Thirlestane, was Lord Lieutenant of Selkirkshire (of which the author was Sheriff depute) at the time when the poem was written; the competitor for the honour of supplying Deloraine's place was the poet's own ancestor.-Ed.)

XVIII.

Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch,
An English knight led forth to view;
Scarce rued the boy his present plight,
So much he long'd to see the fight.
Within the lists, in knightly pride,
High Home and haughty Dacre ride:
Their leading staffs of steel they wield,
As marshals of the mortal field;
While to each knight their care assign'd
Like vantage of the sun and wind.
Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim,
In King and Queen, and Warden's name,
That none, while lasts the strife,
Should dare, by look, or sign, or word,
Aid to a champion to afford,

On peril of his life;

And not a breath the silence broke, Till thus the alternate herald spoke :

XXII.

'Tis done, 'tis done! that fatal blow**
Has stretch'd him on the bloody plain;
He strives to rise--Brave Musgrave, no!
Thence never shalt thou rise again!
He chokes in blood-some friendly hand
Undo the visor's barred band,

§ See Canto 3. Stanza xxii.

This couplet was added in the 2d Edition.]
T[After this, in the first Edition, we read only,

"At the last words, with deadly blows,

The ready warriors fiercely close."-Ed.]

** The whole scene of the duel, or judicial combat, is con ducted according to the strictest ordinances of chivalry, and de lineated with all the minuteness of an ancient romancer. The modern reader will probably find it rather tedious; all but the concluding stanzas, which are in a loftier measureTis done! 'tis done,' &c."-JEFFREY.]

346

Unfix the gorget's iron clasp,
And give him room for life to gasp!-
O, bootless aid!-haste, holy Friar,*
Haste, ere the sinner shall expire!
Of all his guilt let him be shriven,

And smooth his path from earth to heaven!

XXIII.

In haste the holy Friar sped :-
His naked foot was dyed with red,

As through the lists he ran;
Unmindful of the shouts on high,
That hail'd the conqueror's victory,
He raised the dying man;

Loose waved his silver beard and hair,
As o'er him he kneel'd down in prayer;
And still the crucifix on high

He holds before his darkening eve;
And still he bends an anxious ear,
His faltering penitence to hear;

Still props him from the bloody sod,
Still, even when soul and body part,
Pours ghostly comfort on his heart,"
And bids him trust in God!

Unheard he prays;-the death-pang's o'er t Richard of Musgrave breathes no more. XXIV.

As if exhausted in the fight,

Or musing o'er the piteous sight,

The silent victor stands;
His beaver did he not unclasp,

Mark'd not the shouts, felt not the grasp
Of gratulating hands.

When lo! strange cries of wild surprise,
Mingled with seeming terror, rise
Among the Scottish bands:
And all, amid the throng'd array,
In panic haste gave open way
To a half-naked ghastly man,
Who downward from the castle ran:
He cross'd the barriers at a bound,
And wild and haggard look'd around,
As dizzy, and in pain;
And all, upon the armed ground,

Knew William of Deloraine!
Each ladye sprung from seat with speed;
Vaulted each marshal from his steed;

"And who art thou," they cried, "Who hast this battle fought and won?"His plumed helm was soon undoneCranstoun of Teviot-side!

For this fair prize I've fought and won,"And to the Ladye led her son.

This clasp of love our bond shall be; For this is your betrothing day, And all these noble lords shall stay, To grace it with their company."

XXVII.

All as they left the listed plain,
Much of the story she did gain;
How Cranstoun fought with Deloraine,
And of his page, and of the Book
Which from the wounded knight he took;
And how he sought her castle high,
That morn, by help of gramarye;
How, in Sir William's armour dight,
Stolen by his page, while slept the knight,
He took on him the single fight.
But half his tale he left unsaid,
And linger'd till he join'd the maid.-
Cared not the Ladye to betray
Her mystic arts in view of day;

But well she thought, ere midnight came,
Of that strange page the pride to tame,
From his foul hands the Book to save,
And send it back to Michael's grave.-
Needs not to tell each tender word
"Twixt Margaret and 'twixt Cranstoun's lord.
Nor how she told of former woes,
And how her bosom fell and rose,
While he and Musgrave bandied blows.-
Needs not these lovers' joys to tell :

One day, fair maids, you'll know them well.

XXVIII.

William of Deloraine, some chance
Had waken'd from his deathlike trance;
And taught that, in the listed plain,
Another, in his arms and shield,
Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield,
Under the name of Deloraine.
Hence, to the field, unarm'd, he ran,
And hence his presence scared the clan,
Who held him for some fleeting wraith,
And not a man of blood and breath.
Not much this new ally he loved,
Yet, when he saw what hap had proved,
He greeted him right heartilie:
He would not waken old debate,
For he was void of rancorous hate,

Though rude, and scant of courtesy;
In raids he spilt but seldom blood,
Unless when men-at-arms withstood,
Or, as was meet, for deadly feud.

He ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow,
Ta'en in fair fight from gallant foe:
And so 'twas seen of him, e'en now,

When on dead Musgrave he look'd down}
Grief darken'd on his rugged brow,

Though half disguised with a frown;
And thus, while sorrow bent his head,
His foeman's epitaph he made.

XXIX,
"Now, Richard Musgrave, liest thou here!
I ween, my deadly enemy;
For, if I slew thy brother dear

Thou slew'st a sister's son to me;
And when I lay in dungeon dark,

Of Naworth Castle, long months three,
Till ransom'd for a thousand mark,
Dark Musgrave, was long of thee.
And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried,
And thou wert now alive, as I,
No mortal man should us divide,
Till one, or both of us, did die:
Yet rest thee God! for well I know
I ne'er shall find a nobler foe.
In all the northern counties here,
Whose word is, Snaffle, spur, and spear,§
Thou wert the best to follow gear!
'Twas pleasure, as we look'd behind,
To see how thou the chase could'st wind,

"The lands, that over Ouse to Berwick forth do hear,
Have for their blazon had, the snaffle, spur, and spear."
Poly-Albion, Song 13

Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way,
And with the bugle rouse the fray !*
I'd give the lands of Deloraine,
Dark Musgrave were alive again."-t
XXX.

So mourn'd he, till Lord Dacre's band
Were bowning back to Cumberland.
They raised brave Musgrave from the field,
And laid him on his bloody shield;
On levell'd lances, four and four,
By turns, the noble burden bore.
Before, at times, upon the gale,

Was heard the Minstrel's plaintive wail;
Behind, fost priests, in sable stole,
Sung requiem for the warrior's soul:
Around, the horsemen slowly rode;
With trailing pikes the spearmen trode;
And thus the gallant knight they bore,
Through Liddesdale to Leven's shore;
Thence to Holme Coltrame's lofty nave,
And laid him in his father's grave.

THE harp's wild notes, though hush'd the song,
The mimic march of death prolong;
Now seems it far, and now a-near,
Now meets, and now eludes the ear;
Now seems some mountain side to sweep,
Now faintly dies in valley deep;
Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail,
Now the sad requiem, loads the gale';
Last, o'er the warrior's closing grave,
Rung the full choir in choral stave.

After due pause, they bade him tell,
Why he, who touch'd the harp so well,
Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil,
Wander a poor and thankless soil,"
When the more generous Southern Land
Would well requite his skilful hand.

The Aged Harper, howsoe'er
His only friend, his harp, was dear,
Liked not to hear it rank'd so high'
Above his flowing poesy:

Less liked he still, that scornful jeer
Misprised the land he loved so dear;
High was the sound, as thus again
The Bard resumed his minstrel strain.

CANTO SIXTH.

I.

BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,

From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;

• The pursuit of Border marauders was followed by the injured party and his friends with blood-hounds and bugle hom, and was called the hot trod. He was entitled, if his dog could trace the reeat, to follow the invaders into the opposite kingdom; a priviJeze which often occasioned bloodshed. In addition to what has been said of the blood-hound, I may add, that the breed was kept up by the Buccleuch family on their Border estates till within the 18th century. A person was alive within the memory of man, who remembered a blood-hound being kept at Eldinhope, in Ettrick Forest, for whose maintenance the tenant had an allowance of meal. At that time the sheep were always watched at night. Upon one occasion, when the duty had fallen on the narrator, then a lad, he became exhausted with fatigue, and fell asleep upon a bank near sun-rising. Suddenly he was awakened by the tread of horses, and saw five men, well mounted and armed, ride briskly over the edge of the hill. They stopped and looked at the flock; but the day was too far broken to admit the chance of their carrying any of them off. One of them, in spite, leaped from his horse, and coming to the shepherd, seized him by the belt he wore round his waist; and, setting his foot upon his body, pulled it till it broke, and carried it away with him. They rode off at the gallop; and, the shepherd giving the alarm, the blood-hound was turned loose, and the people in the neighbourhood alarmed. I

Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.

II.

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,

That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Still, as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,

Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,

Even in extremity of ill.

By Yarrow's streams still let me stray,

Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my wither'd cheek;
Still lay my head by Teviot Stone,
Though there, forgotton and alone,
The Bard may draw his parting groan.
III.

Not scorn'd like me! to Branksome Hall
The Minstrels came, at festive call;
Trooping they came, from near and far,
The jovial priests of mirth and war;
Alike for feast and fight prepared,
Battle and banquet both they shared.
Of late, before each martial clan,
They blew their death-note in the van,
But now, for every merry mate,
Rose the portcullis' iron grate;

They sound the pipe, they strike the string,
They dance, they revel, and they sing,
Till the rude turrets shake and ring.

IV.

Me lists not at this tide declare

The splendour of the spousal rite, How muster'd in the chapel fair

Both maid and matron, squire and knight; Me lists not tell of owches rare, Of mantles green, and braided hair, And kirtles furr'd with miniver; What plumage waved the altar round, How spurs and ringing chainlets sound: And hard it were for bard to speak The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek; That lovely hue which comes and flies, As awe and shame alternate rise!

V.

Some bards have sung, the Ladye high
Chapel or altar came not nigh;
Nor durst the rites of spousal grace,
So much she fear'd each holy place.
False slanders these:-I trust right well
She wrought not by forbidden spell ;§
For mighty words and signs have power

The marauders, however, escaped, notwithstanding a sharp pursuit This circumstance serves to show Low very long the license of the Borderers continued in some degree to manifest itself.

[The style of the old romancers has been very successfully imitated in the whole of this scene; and the speech of Deloraine, who, roused from his bed of sickness, rushes into the lists, and apostrophizes his fallen enemy, brought to our recollection, as well from the peculiar turn of expression in its commencement as in the tone of sentiments which it conveys, some of the funebres orationes of the Mort Arthur."-Critical Review.)

: [The line "Still lay my head," &c., was not in the first edltion.-ED.]

$ Popular belief, though contrary to the doctrines of the Church, made a favourable distinction betwixt magicians, and necromancers, or wizards; the former were supposed to command the evil spirits, and the latter to serve, or at least to be in league and compact with, those enemies of mankind. The arts of subjecting the demons were manifold; sometimes the fiends were actually swindled by the magicians, as in the case of the bargain betwixt one of their number and the poet Virgil. The classical reader will doubtless be curious to peruse this anecdote :

O'er sprites in planetary hour:
Yet scarce I praise their venturous part,
Who tamper with such dangerous art.
But this for faithful truth I say,

The Ladye by the altar stood,
Of sable velvet her array,

And on her head a crimson hood,
With pearls embroider'd and entwined,
Guarded with gold, with ermine lined;
A merlin sat upon her wrist,*
Held by a leash of silken twist.
VI.

The spousal rites were ended soon:
'Twas now the merry hour of noon,
And in the lofty arched hall
Was spread the gorgeous festival.
Steward and squire, with heedful haste,
Marshall'd the rank of every guest;
Pages, with ready blade, were there,
The mighty meal to carve and share:
O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane,
And princely peacock's gilded train,t
And o'er the boar-head, garnish'd brave,+
And cygnet from St. Mary's wave;§
O'er ptarmigan and venison,

The priest had spoke his benison.
Then rose the riot and the din,
Above, beneath, without, within!

For, from the lofty balcony,

Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery:
Their clanging bowls old warriors quaff'd,
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh'd;
Whisper'd young knights, in tone more mild,

"Virgilius was at scole at Tolenton, where he stodyed dyly gently, for he was of great understandynge. Upon a tyme, the scolers had lycense to go to play and sporte them in the fyldes, after the usance of the old tyme. And there was also Virgilius therebye, also walkynge among the hylles alle about. It fortuned he spyed a great hole in the syde of a great hyll, wherein he went so depe, that he culd not see no more lyght; and than he went & lytell farther therein, and than he saw some lyght agayne, and than he went fourth streyghte, and within a lytell wyle after he herd a voyce that called, Virgilius! Virgilius ! and looked aboute, and he colde nat see no body. Than sayd he, (i. e. the voice,) Virgilius, see ye not the lytyll borde lying bysyde you there marked with that word?' Than answered Virgilius, 'I see that borde well anough.' The voyce said, 'Doo awaye that borde, and lette me out there atte.' Than answered Virgilius to the voice that was under the lytell borde, and said, 'Who art thou that callest me so? Than answered the devyll. I am a devyll conjured out of the bodye of a certeyne man, and banysshed here tyll the day of judgmend, without that I be delyvered by the handes of men. Thus, Virgilius. I pray the, delyver me out of this payn, and I shall shewe unto the many bokes of negromancye, and how thou shalt come by it lyghtly, and know the practice therein, that no man in the scyence of negromancye shall passe the. And moreover, I shall shewe and enforme the so, that thou shalt have alle thy desyre, whereby methinke it is a great gyfte for so lytyll a doyng. For ye may also thus all your power frendys helpe, and make ryche your enemyes.' Thorough that great promyse was Virgilius tempted; he badde the fynd show the bokes to hym, that he might have and occupy them at his wyll; and so the fynde shewed him. And than Virgilius pulled open a borde, and there was a lytell hole, and thereat wrang the devyll out like a yell, and cam and stode before Virgilius lyke a bygge man; whereof Virgilius was astonied and marveyfed greatly thereof, that so great a man myght come out at so lytyll a hole. Than sayd Virgilius, Shulde ye well passe into the hole that ye cam out of '-Yea, I shall well,' said the devyl-'I holde the best plegge that I have, that ye shall not do it. Well,' sayd the devyll, thereto I consent.' And than the devyll wrange himselfe into the lytell hole ageyne; and as he was therein, Virgilius kyvered the hole ageyne with the borde close, and so was the devyll begyled, and myght nat there come out agen, but abydeth shytte styll therein. Than called the devyll dredefully to Virgilius, and said, What have ye done, Virgilius -Virgilius answered, Abyde there styll to your day appointed; and fro thens forth abydeth he there. And so Virgilius became very connynge in the practyse of the black scyence."

This story may remind the reader of the Arabian tale of the Fisherman and the imprisoned Genie; and it is more than probable, that many of the marvels narrated in the life of Virgil, are of Oriental extraction. Among such I am disposed to reckon the following whimsical account of the foundation of Naples, containing a curious theory concerning the origin of the earthquakes with which it is afflicted. Virgil, who was a person of gallantry, had, it seems, carried off the daughter of a certain Soldan, and was anxious to secure his prize.

To ladies fair, and ladies smiled.

The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam,
The clamour join'd with whistling scream,
And flapp'd their wings, and shook their bells,
In concert with the stag-hounds' yells.
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine,
From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine;
Their tasks the busy sewers ply,
And all is mirth and revelry.

VII.

The Goblin Page, omitting still
No opportunity of ill,

Strove now, while blood ran hot and high,
To rouse debate and jealousy;

Till Conrad, Lord of Wolfenstein,
By nature fierce, and warm with wine,
And now in humour highly cross'd,
About some steeds his band had lost,
High words to words succeeding still,
Smote, with his gauntlet, stout Hunthill;
A hot and hardy Rutherford,

Whom men called Dickon Draw-the-sword.
He took it on the page's saye,

Hunthill had driven these steeds away.

Then Howard, Home, and Douglas rose,
The kindling discord to compose:
Stern Rutherford right little said,

But bit his glove, and shook his head.

A fortnight thence, in Inglewood,

Stout Conrade, cold, and drench'd in blood,
His bosom gored with many a wound,
Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found;

eth it still. And when the egge styrreth, so shulde the towne of Napells quake; and whan the egge brake, than shulde the towne sinke. Whan he had made an ende, he lette call it Napelis." This appears to have been an article of current belief during the middle ages, as appears from the statutes of the order Du Saint Esprit au droit desir, instituted in 1352. A chapter of the knights is appointed to be held annually at the Castle of the Enchanted Egg, near the grotto of Virgil.-MONTFAUCON, vol. ii. p. 329.

A merlin, or sparrow-hawk, was actually carried by ladies of rank, as a falcon was, in time of peace, the constant attendant of a knight or baron. See LATHAM on Falconry.-Godscroft relates, that when Mary of Lorraine was regent, she pressed the Earl of Angus to admit a royal garrison into his Castle of Tantallon. To this he returned no direct answer; but, as if apostrophizing a goss-hawk, which sat on his wrist, and which he was feeding during the Queen's speech, he exclaimed, "The devil's in this greedy glede, she will never be full."-HUME'S History of the House of Douglas, 1743, vol. ii. p. 131. Barclay complains of the common and indecent practice of bringing hawks and hounds into churches.

The peacock, it is well known, was considered, during the times of chivalry, not merely as an exquisite delicacy, but as a dish of peculiar solemnity. After being roasted, it was again decorated with its plumage, and a sponge, dipped in lighted spints of wine, was placed in its bill. When it was introduced on days of grand festival, it was the signal for the adventurous knights to take upon them vows to do some deed of chivalry, "before the peacock and the ladies."

1 The boar's head was also a usual dish of feudal splendour: Scotland it was sometimes surrounded with little banners, dis playing the colours and achievements of the baron at whose board it was served.-PINKERTON'S History, vol. i. p. 432.

$ There are often flights of wild swans upon St. Mary's Lake, at the head of the river Yarrow.*

The Rutherfords of Hunthill were an ancient race of Border Lairds, whose names occur in history, sometimes as defending the frontier against the English, sometimes as disturbing the peace of their own country. Dickon Draw-the sword was son to the ancient warrior, called in tradition the Cock of Hunthill, remarkable for leading into battle nine sons, gallant warriors, all sons of the aged champion. Mr. Rutherford, late of New York, in a letter to the editor, soon after these songs were first published, quoted, when upwards of eighty years old, a ballad apparently the same with the Raid of the Reidsquare, but which apparently is lost, except the following lines:

"Baul Rutherfurd he was fu' stout,
With all his nine sons him about,
He brought the lads of Jedbrught out,
And bauldly fought that day."

⚫ [See Wordsworth's Yarrow Visited, "The Swan on still St. Mary's Lake Floats double, Swan and shadow."-Ed]