Walter Scott - The Complete Poems of Sir Walter Scott

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,

With Kendal bow, and Gilsland brand,

And all yon mercenary band,

Upon the bounds of fair Scotland?

My Ladye redes you swith return;

And, if but one poor straw you burn

Or do our towers so much molest

As scare one swallow from her nest,

St. Mary! but we’ll light a brand

Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland.”

XXIII

A wrathful man was Dacre’s lord,

But calmer Howard took the word:

“May ‘t please thy Dame, Sir Seneschal,

To seek the castle’s outward wall,

Our pursuivant-at-arms shall show

Both why we came, and when we go.”

The message sped, the noble Dame

To the wall’s outward circle came;

Each chief around lean’d on his spear

To see the pursuivant appear.

All in Lord Howard’s livery dress’d,

The lion argent deck-d his breast;

He led a boy of blooming hue,

O sight to meet a mother’s view!

It was the heir of great Buccleuch

Obeisance meet the herald made,

And thus his master’s will he said:

XXIV

“It irks, high Dame, my noble Lords,

‘Gainst ladye fair to draw their swords;

But yet they may not tamely see,

All through the Western Wardenry,

Your law-contemning kinsmen ride,

And burn and spoil the Border-side;

And ill beseems your rank and birth

To make your towers a flemens-firth

We claim from thee William of Deloraine

That he may suffer march-treason pain.

It was but last St. Cuthbert’s even

He bunny’d to Stapleton on Leven,

Harried the lands of Richard Musgrave,

And slew his brother by dint of glaive.

Then, since a lone and widow’d Dame

These restless riders may not tame,

Either receive within thy towers

Two hundred of my master’s powers,

Or straight they sound their warrison,

And storm and spoil thy garrison:

And this fair boy, to London led,

Shall good King Edward’s page be bred.”

XXV

He ceased, and loud the boy did cry,

And stretch’d his little arms on high;

Implor’d for aid each wellknown face,

And strove to seek the Dame’s embrace.

A moment chang’d that Ladye’s cheer,

Gush’d to her eye the unbidden tear;

She gaz’d upon the leaders round,

And dark and sad each warrior frown’d;

Then, deep within her sobbing breast

She lock’d the struggling sigh to rest;

Unalter’d and collected stood,

And thus replied in dauntless mood:

XXVI

“Say to your Lords of high emprize,

Who war on women and on boys,

That either William of Deloraine

Will cleanse him by oath of march-treason stain

Or else he will the combat take

‘Gainst Musgrave, for his honor’s sake.

No knight in Cumberland so good,

But William may count with him kin and blood.

Knighthood he took of Douglas’ sword,

When English blood swell’d Ancram’s ford;

And but Lord Dacre’s steed was wight,

And bare him ably in the flight,

Himself had seen him dubb’d a knight.

For the young heir of Branksome’s line,

God be his aid, and God be mine;

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 lykewake dirge,

Our moat the grave where they shall lie.”

XXVII

Proud she look’d round, applause to claim,

Then lighten’d Thirlestane’s eye of flame

His bugle Wat 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 answer’d wide,

And forward bent each southern spear;

Each Kendal archer made a stride,

And drew the bowstring to his ear;

Each minstrel’s war-note loud was blown;

But, ere a grey-goose shaft had flown

A horseman gallop’d from the rear.

XXVIII

“Ah! noble Lords!” he breathless said,

“What treason has your march betray’d ?

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 Liddel’s northern strand,

To bar retreat to Cumberland,

Lord Maxwell ranks his merrymen good,

Beneath the eagle and the rood;

And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale,

Have to proud Angus come;

And all the Merse and Lauderdale

Have risen with haughty Home.

An exile from Northumberland,

In Liddesdale I’ve wander’d long;

But still my heart was with merry England,

And cannot brook my country’s wrong;

And hard I’ve spurr’d all night, to show

The mustering of the coming foe.”

XXIX

“And let them come!” fierce Dacre cried;

“For soon yon crest, my father’s pride,

That swept the shores of Judah’s sea,

And wav’d in gales of Galilee,

From Branksome’s highest towers display’d,

Shall mock the rescue’s lingering aid!

Level each harquebuss on row;

Draw, merry archers, draw the bow;

Up, billmen, to the walls, and cry,

Dacre for England, win or die!”

XXX

“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 risk 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,

Ere 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 cross’d,

‘Tis but a single warrior lost:

The rest retreating as they came,

Avoid defeat, and death, and shame.”

XXXI

Ill could the haughty Dacre brook

His brother Warden’s sage rebuke;

And yet his forward step he stay’d,

And slow and sullenly obey’d.

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.

XXXII

The pursuivant-at-arms again

Before the castle took his stand;

His trumpet call’d, with parleying strain

The leaders of the Scottish band;

And he defied in Musgrave’s right,

Stout Deloraine to single fight;

A gauntlet at their feet he laid,

And thus the terms of fight he said:

“If in the lists good Musgrave’s sword

Vanquish the Knight of Deloraine,

Your youthful chieftain, Branksome’s Lord

Shall hostage for his clan remain:

If Deloraine foil good Musgrave,

The boy his liberty shall have.

Howe’er it falls the English band,

Unharming Scots, by Scots unharm’d,

In peaceful march, like men unarm’d,

Shall straight retreat to Cumberland.”

XXXIII

Unconscious of the near relief

The proffer pleased each Scottish chief,

Though much the Ladye sage gainsay’d;

For though their hearts were brave and true,

From Jedwood’s recent sack they knew