THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. INTRODUCTION. THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; Old times were changed, old manners gone; A stranger fill'd the Stuarts' throne; Had call'd his harmless art a crime. He pass'd where Newark's stately tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower: The embattled portal arch he pass'd, * The Duchess mark'd his weary pace, When kindness had his wants supplied, Of good Earl Francis, + dead and gone, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, The humble boon was soon obtain'd; * Anne, Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, representative of the ancient Lords of Buccleuch, and widow of the unfortunate James, Duke of Monmouth, who was beheaded in 1685. + Francis Scott, Earl of Buccleuch, father of the Duchess. Walter, Earl of Buccleuch, grandfather of the Duchess, and a celebrated warrior. His trembling hand had lost the ease, And then, he said, he would full fain When he kept court in Holyrood; The long-forgotten melody. In varying cadence, soft or strong, No! vainly to each holy shrine, In mutual pilgrimage, they drew ; Implored, in vain, the grace divine For chiefs, their own red falchions slew : While Cessford owns the rule of Carr, While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott, The slaughter'd chiefs, the mortal jar, The havoc of the feudal war, Shall never, never be forgot! IX. In sorrow o'er Lord Walter's bier The warlike foresters had bent; And many a flower, and many a tear, Old Teviot's maids and matrons lent: But o'er her warrior's bloody bier The Ladye dropp'd nor flower nor tear! Vengeance,deep-brooding o'er the slain, Had lock'd the source of softer woe; And burning pride, and high disdain, Forbade the rising tear to flow; Until, amid his sorrowing clan, Her son lisp'd from the nurse's knee"And if I live to be a man, My father's death revenged shall be!" Then fast the mother's tears did seek To dew the infant's kindling cheek. X. All loose her negligent attire, All loose her golden hair, Hung Margaret o'er her slaughter'd sire, And wept in wild despair, But not alone the bitter tear Had filial grief supplied; For hopeless love, and anxious fear, Had lent their mingled tide: Nor in her mother's alter'd eye Dared she to look for sympathy. Her lover, 'gainst her father's clan, With Carr in arms had stood, When Mathouse-burn to Melrose ran All purple with their blood; And well she knew, her mother dread, Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed, Would see her on her dying bed. XI. Of noble race the Ladye came, Her father was a clerk of fame, Of Bethune's line of Picardie : He learned the art that none may name, In Padua, far beyond the sea. Men said, he changed his mortal frame, By feat of magic mystery; For when, in studious mood he paced St. Andrew's cloister'd hall, His form no darkening shadow traced Upon the sunny wall! XII. And of his skill, as bards avow, He taught that Ladye fair, The viewless forms of air. XIII. At the sullen, moaning sound, Loud whoops the startled owl. In the hall, both squire and knight Swore that a storm was near, And looked forth to view the night; But the night was still and clear! XIV. From the sound of Teviot's tide, It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke, XV. RIVER SPIRIT. Sleep'st thou, brother?" MOUNTAIN SPIRIT. "Brother, nay- On my hills the moonbeams play. Emerald rings on brown heath tracing, Up, and mark their nimble feet! XVI. RIVER SPIRIT. "Tears of an imprisoned maiden Mix with my polluted stream; Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden, Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam. Tell me, thou, who view'st the stars, When shall cease these feudal jars ? What shall be the maiden's fate? Who shall be the maiden's mate ?”— XVII. MOUNTAIN SPIRIT. "Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll, Orion's studded belt is dim; XVIII. The unearthly voices ceast, And the heavy sound was still; It died on the river's breast, It died on the side of the hill. But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near ; For it rung in the Ladye's bower, And it rung in the Ladye's ear. She raised her stately head, And her heart throbb'd high with pride: "Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend, Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride!" XIX. The Ladye sought the lofty hall, The truncheon of a spear bestrode, And round the hall right merrily, In mimic foray rode. Even bearded knights, in arms grown old, Share in his frolic gambols bore, Albeit their hearts, of rugged mould, Were stubborn as the steel they wore. For the grey warriors prophesied, How the brave boy, in future war, Should tame the Unicorn's pride, Exalt the Crescent and the Star. XX. The Ladye forgot her purpose high, XXI. A stark moss-trooping Scott was he, moss, Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross; XXII. "Sir William of Deloraine, good at need, Mount thee on the wightest steed; Soon in his saddle sate he fast, Dimly he view'd the Moat-hill's mound, *Barbican, the defence of an outer gate of a feudal castle. Peel, a Border tower. |