120 To mount the first before us a'. 150 Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie. And when we came to the lower prison, "O I sleep saft, and I wake aft," It's lang since sleeping was fleyd' frae me; Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns. And a' gude fellows that speers for me. Then Red Rowan has hente him up, The starkest men in Teviotdale: "Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell. "Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried; "I'll pay you for my lodging-maill10 When first we meet on the border-side." Then shoulder high, with shout and ery, We bore him down the ladder lang; He has taen the watchman by the throat, 155 At every stride Red Rowan made, He flung him down upon the lead: "Had there not been peace between our lands, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. I wot the Kinmont's airns playd clang.11 Land of my sires! what mortal hand 25 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, 30 By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, Not scorn'd like me, to Branksome Hall The minstrels came at festive call; Trooping they came, from near and far, 40 The jovial priests of mirth and war; Alike for feast and fight prepar'd, Battle and banquet both they shar'd. Of late, before each martial clan, They blew their death-note in the van, 45 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. many a runic column high Had witness'd grim idolatry. And thus had Harold in his youth 335 Learn'd many a Saga's rhyme uncouthOf that Sea-Snake, tremendous curl'd, Whose monstrous circle girds the world; Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell Maddens the battle's bloody swell; 340 "Last night the gifted seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; ""Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir Tonight at Roslin leads the ball, 370 But that my ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall. 380 It glar'd on Roslin's castled rock, O Of Chiefs, who, guided through the gloom 385 1 Norse singer of heroic poems. It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden. Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie, Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheath'd in his iron panoply. 1 Northern warriors were buried with their weapons and treasures. These were said to be guarded by the spirits of the dead warriors. 2 island A favorite sport in which a horseman rides past a suspended ring and tries to carry it off on the point of a lance. |