The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Iv Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBCDDEFFE AGHGHIIJAKJLLLMM ANONOPQRSAATT BUBUVVUUWWXXUU TTYYYTTUUUZZA2TB2B2C 2CC2C HHD2STTXXCCUUUMMB2B2 UUU HZZTUTUUUUZE2W HHUHUF2F2HHG2TTH2TTU U H2UTUUTXXUUZZUUUUH2H 2UUZZUUUU H2UZUZZZXXUUUUMMUUUU ZA2XXTTXXUU H2H2H2B2B2UUTTTTUUTT ZZTTUUMMUUUU H2TTUUUUH2H2XXTTTB2B 2UUUUZZTTH2H2 H2MMUTUTUUTH2UUH2UHU HUUUU HI2I2UUUUUUMMHHUUTT HUUUUTTZZUJ2J2UUUHHT TTUU HUUZZTTTTK2K2TUTU ZUUUTUTUUUUZZUU ZA2ZUTTUUUH2H2UUUUB2 B2 H2HHUUUUTTZZUUUU H2UUTA2TTUUB2B2UUUZZ Z H2UUUUH2H2UUUUUUUU UHHUUUUUTTUUUU UUUZZHHMMUUUUHHHUU HUUUUUUL2L2TTTTHHMMU UTTUU HUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUTTB2B2UUUUUUUTTM2 M2N2UN2U UMMHB2B2HUUUUTTU UUUUUUUHHTTUUUUHK2HO 2UB2UB2HH UUUUUUUHA2UU UUUB2B2UUUUUUTTUUMM UB2B2UUUUUU UTUTUUUUUUTUTUUUUUU UUUUHHUMTMTUUTUUTUUU U UUUUUUUUUUUUUB2B2HUU HUUUU UM2M2UP2P2UTTTUUUUUT TUUHHUUUUTTMMUUUU UUHHUUUU TT| I | A |
| Sweet Teviot on thy silver tide | B |
| The glaring bale fires blaze no more | C |
| No longer steel clad warrior ride | B |
| Along thy wild and willow'd shore | C |
| Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill | D |
| All all is peaceful all is still | D |
| As if thy waves since Time was born | E |
| Since first they roll'd upon the Tweed | F |
| Had only heard the shepherd's reed | F |
| Nor started at the bugle horn | E |
| - | |
| II | A |
| Unlike the tide of human time | G |
| Which though it change in ceaseless flow | H |
| Retains each grief retains each crime | G |
| Its earliest course was doom'd to know | H |
| And darker as it downward bears | I |
| Is stain'd with past and present tears | I |
| Low as that tide has ebb'd with me | J |
| It still reflects to Memory's eye | A |
| The hour my brave my only boy | K |
| Fell by the side of great Dundee | J |
| Why when the volleying musket play'd | L |
| Against the bloody Highland blade | L |
| Why was not I beside him laid | L |
| Enough he died the death of fame | M |
| Enough he died with conquering Graeme | M |
| - | |
| III | A |
| Now over Border dale and fell | N |
| Full wide and far was terror spread | O |
| For pathless marsh and mountain cell | N |
| The peasant left his lowly shed | O |
| The frighten'd flocks and herds were pent | P |
| Beneath the peel's rude battlement | Q |
| And maids and matrons dropp'd the tear | R |
| While ready warriors seiz'd the spear | S |
| From Branksome's towers the watchman's eye | A |
| Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy | A |
| Which curling in the rising sun | T |
| Show'd southern ravage was begun | T |
| - | |
| IV | - |
| Now loud the heedful gate ward cried | B |
| Prepare ye all for blows and blood | U |
| Watt Tinlinn from the Liddel side | B |
| Comes wading through the flood | U |
| Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock | V |
| At his lone gate and prove the lock | V |
| It was but last St Barnabright | U |
| They sieg'd him a whole summer night | U |
| But fled at morning well they knew | W |
| In vain he never twang'd the yew | W |
| Right sharp has been the evening shower | X |
| That drove him from his Liddel tower | X |
| And by my faith the gate ward said | U |
| I think 'twill prove a Warden Raid | U |
| - | |
| V | - |
| While thus he spoke the bold yeoman | T |
| Enter'd the echoing barbican | T |
| He led a small and shaggy nag | Y |
| That through a bog from hag to hag | Y |
| Could bound like any Billhope stag | Y |
| It bore his wife and children twain | T |
| A half clothed serf was all their train | T |
| His wife stout ruddy and dark brow'd | U |
| Of silver brooch and bracelet proud | U |
| Laugh'd to her friends among the crowd | U |
| He was of stature passing tall | Z |
| But sparely form'd and lean withal | Z |
| A batter'd morion on his brow | A2 |
| A leather jack as fence enow | T |
| On his broad shoulders loosely hung | B2 |
| A border axe behind was slung | B2 |
| His spear six Scottish ells in length | C2 |
| Seem'd newly dyed with gore | C |
| His shafts and bow of wondrous strength | C2 |
| His hardy partner bore | C |
| - | |
| VI | - |
| Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show | H |
| The tidings of the English foe | H |
| Belted Will Howard is marching here | D2 |
| And hot Lord Dacre with many a spear | S |
| And all the German hackbut men | T |
| Who have long lain at Askerten | T |
| They cross'd the Liddel at curfew hour | X |
| And burn'd my little lonely tower | X |
| The fiend receive their souls therefore | C |
| It had not been burnt this year and more | C |
| Barn yard and dwelling blazing bright | U |
| Serv'd to guide me on my flight | U |
| But I was chas'd the livelong night | U |
| Black John of Akeshaw and Fergus Graeme | M |
| Fast upon my traces came | M |
| Until I turn'd at Priesthaugh Scrogg | B2 |
| And shot their horses in the bog | B2 |
| Slew Fergus with my lance outright | U |
| I had him long at high despite | U |
| He drove my cows last Fastern's night | U |
| - | |
| VII | H |
| Now weary scouts from Liddesdale | Z |
| Fast hurrying in confirm'd the tale | Z |
| As far as they could judge by ken | T |
| Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand | U |
| Three thousand armed Englishmen | T |
| Meanwhile full many a warlike band | U |
| From Teviot Aill and Ettrick shade | U |
| Came in their Chief's defence to aid | U |
| There was saddling and mounting in haste | U |
| There was pricking o'er moor and lea | Z |
| He that was last at the trysting place | E2 |
| Was but lightly held of his gay ladye | W |
| - | |
| VIII | H |
| From fair St Mary's silver wave | H |
| From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height | U |
| His ready lances Thirlestane brave | H |
| Array'd beneath a banner bright | U |
| The treasured fleur de luce he claims | F2 |
| To wreathe his shield since royal James | F2 |
| Encamp'd by Fala's mossy wave | H |
| The proud distinction grateful gave | H |
| For faith 'mid feudal jars | G2 |
| What time save Thirlestane alone | T |
| Of Scotland's stubborn barons none | T |
| Would march to southern wars | H2 |
| And hence in fair remembrance worn | T |
| Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne | T |
| Hence his high motto shines reveal'd | U |
| Ready aye ready for the field | U |
| - | |
| IX | H2 |
| An aged Knight to danger steel'd | U |
| With manyaa moss trooper came on | T |
| And azure in a golden field | U |
| The stars and crescent graced his shield | U |
| Without the bend of Murdieston | T |
| Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower | X |
| And wide round haunted Castle Ower | X |
| High over Borthwick's mountain flood | U |
| His wood embosom'd mansion stood | U |
| In the dark glen so deep below | Z |
| The herds of plunder'd England low | Z |
| His bold retainers' daily food | U |
| And bought with danger blows and blood | U |
| Marauding chief his sole delight | U |
| The moonlight raid the morning fight | U |
| Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms | H2 |
| In youth might tame his rage for arms | H2 |
| And still in age he spurn'd at rest | U |
| And still his brows the helmet press'd | U |
| Albeit the blanched locks below | Z |
| Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow | Z |
| Five stately warriors drew the sword | U |
| Before their father's band | U |
| A braver knight than Harden's lord | U |
| Ne'er belted on a brand | U |
| - | |
| X | H2 |
| Scotts of Eskdale a stalwart band | U |
| Came trooping down the Todshaw hill | Z |
| By the sword they won their land | U |
| And by the sword they hold it still | Z |
| Hearken Ladye to the tale | Z |
| How thy sires won fair Eskdale | Z |
| Earl Morton was lord of that valley fair | X |
| The Beattisons were his vassals there | X |
| The Earl was gentle and mild of mood | U |
| The vassals vere warlike and fierce and rude | U |
| High of heart and haughty of word | U |
| Little they reck'd of a tame liege lord | U |
| The Earl into fair Eskdale came | M |
| Homage and seignory to claim | M |
| Of Gilbert the Galliard a heriot he sought | U |
| Saying Give thy best steed as a vassal ought | U |
| Dear to me is my bonny white steed | U |
| Oft has he help d me at pinch of need | U |
| Lord and Earl though thou be I trow | Z |
| I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou | A2 |
| Word on word gave fuel to fire | X |
| Till so highly blazed the Beattison's ire | X |
| But that the Earl the flight had ta'en | T |
| The vassals there their lord had slain | T |
| Sore he plied both whip and spur | X |
| As he urged his steed through Eskdale muir | X |
| And it fell down a weary weight | U |
| Just on the threshold of Branksome gate | U |
| - | |
| XI | H2 |
| The Earl was a wrathful man to see | H2 |
| Full fain avenged would he be | H2 |
| In haste to Branksome's Lord he spoke | B2 |
| Saying Take these traitors to thy yoke | B2 |
| For a cast of hawks and a purse of gold | U |
| All Eskdale I'll sell thee to have and hold | U |
| Beshrew thy heart of the Beattisons' clan | T |
| If thou leavest on Eske a landed man | T |
| But spare Woodkerrick's lands alone | T |
| For he lent me his horse to escape upon | T |
| A glad man then was Branksome bold | U |
| Down he flung him the purse of gold | U |
| To Eskdale soon he spurr'd amain | T |
| And with him five hundred riders has ta'en | T |
| He left his merrymen in the mist of the hill | Z |
| And bade them hold them close and still | Z |
| And alone he wended to the plain | T |
| To meet with the Galliard and all his train | T |
| To Gilbert the Galliard thus he said | U |
| Know thou me for thy liege lord and head | U |
| Deal not with me as with Morton tame | M |
| For Scotts play best at the roughest game | M |
| Give me in peace my heriot due | U |
| Thy bonny white steed or thou shalt rue | U |
| If my horn I three times wind | U |
| Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind | U |
| - | |
| XII | H2 |
| Loudly the Beattison laugh'd in scorn | T |
| Little care we for thy winded horn | T |
| Ne'er shall it be the Galliard's lot | U |
| To yield his steed to a haughty Scott | U |
| Wend thou to Branksome back on foot | U |
| With rusty spur and miry boot | U |
| He blew his bugle so loud and hoarse | H2 |
| That the dun deer started at fair Craikcross | H2 |
| He blew again so loud and clear | X |
| Through the grey mountain mist there did lances appear | X |
| And the third blast rang with such a din | T |
| That the echoes answer'd from Pentoun linn | T |
| And all his riders came lightly in | T |
| Then had you seen a gallant shock | B2 |
| When saddles were emptied and lances broke | B2 |
| For each scornful word the Galliard had said | U |
| A Beattison on the field was laid | U |
| His own good sword the chieftain drew | U |
| And he bore the Galliard through and through | U |
| Where the Beattisons' blood mix'dwith the rill | Z |
| The Galliard's Haugh men call it still | Z |
| The Scotts have scatter'd the Beattison clan | T |
| In Eskdale they left but one landed man | T |
| The valley of Eske from the mouth to the source | H2 |
| Was lost and won for that bonny white horse | H2 |
| - | |
| XIII | H2 |
| Whitslade the Hawk and Headshaw came | M |
| And warriors more than I may name | M |
| From Yarrow cleugh to Hindhaugh swair | U |
| From Woodhouselie to Chesterglen | T |
| Troop'd man and horse and bow and spear | U |
| Their gathering word was Bellenden | T |
| And better hearts o'er Border sod | U |
| To siege or rescue never rode | U |
| The Ladye mark'd the aids come in | T |
| And high her heart of pride arose | H2 |
| She bade her youthful son attend | U |
| That he might know his father's friend | U |
| And learn to face his foes | H2 |
| The boy is ripe to look on war | U |
| I saw him draw a cross bow stiff | H |
| And his true arrow struck afar | U |
| The raven s nest upon the cliff | H |
| The red cross on a southern breast | U |
| Is broader than the raven s nest | U |
| Thou Whitslade shalt teach him his weapon to wield | U |
| And o'er him hold his father's shield | U |
| - | |
| XIV | H |
| Well may you think the wily page | I2 |
| Car'd not to face the Ladye sage | I2 |
| He counterfeited childish fear | U |
| And shriekd and shed full many tear | U |
| And moan'd and plain'd in manner wild | U |
| The attendants to the Ladye told | U |
| Some fairy sure had chang'd the child | U |
| That wont to be so free and bold | U |
| Then wrathful was the noble dame | M |
| She blush'd blood red for very shame | M |
| Hence ere the clan his faintness view | H |
| Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch | H |
| Watt Tinlinn thou shalt be his guide | U |
| To Rangleburn s lonely side | U |
| Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line | T |
| That coward should e'er be son of mine | T |
| - | |
| XV | H |
| A heavy task Watt Tinlinn had | U |
| To guide the counterfeited lad | U |
| Soon as the palfrey felt the wight | U |
| Of that ill omen'd elfish freight | U |
| He bolted sprung and rear'd amain | T |
| Nor heeded bit nor curb nor rein | T |
| It cost Watt Tinlinn mickle toil | Z |
| To drive him but a Scottish mile | Z |
| But as a shallow brook they cross'd | U |
| The elf amid the running stream | J2 |
| His figure chang'd like form in dream | J2 |
| And fled and shouted Lost lost lost | U |
| Full fast the urchin ran and laugh'd | U |
| But faster still a cloth yard shaft | U |
| Whistled from startled Tinlinn's yew | H |
| And pierc'd his shoulder through and through | H |
| Although the imp might not be slain | T |
| And though the wound soon heal'd again | T |
| Yet as he ran he yell'd for pain | T |
| And Wat of Tinlinn much aghast | U |
| Rode back to Branksome fiery fast | U |
| - | |
| XVI | H |
| Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood | U |
| That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood | U |
| And martial murmurs from below | Z |
| Proclaim'd the approaching southern foe | Z |
| Through the dark wood in mingled tone | T |
| Were Border pipes and bugles blown | T |
| The coursers' neighing he could ken | T |
| A measured tread of marching men | T |
| While broke at times the solemn hum | K2 |
| The Almayn's sullen kettle drum | K2 |
| And banners tall of crimson sheen | T |
| Above the copse appear | U |
| And glistening through the hawthorns green | T |
| Shine helm and shield and spear | U |
| - | |
| XVII | Z |
| Light forayers first to view the ground | U |
| Spurr'd their fleet coursers loosely round | U |
| Behind in close array and fast | U |
| The Kendal archers all in green | T |
| Obedient to the bugle blast | U |
| Advancing from the wood were seen | T |
| To back and guard the archer band | U |
| Lord Dacre's bill men were at hand | U |
| A hardy race on Irthing bred | U |
| With kirtles white and crosses red | U |
| Array'd beneath the banner tall | Z |
| That stream'd o'er Acre's conquer'd wall | Z |
| And minstrels as they march'd in order | U |
| Play'd Noble Lord Dacre he dwells on the Border | U |
| - | |
| XVIII | Z |
| Behind the English bill and bow | A2 |
| The mercenaries firm and slow | Z |
| Moved on to fight in dark array | U |
| By Conrad led of Wolfenstein | T |
| Who brought the band from distant Rhine | T |
| And sold their blood for foreign pay | U |
| The camp their home their law the sword | U |
| They knew no country own'd no lord | U |
| They were not arm'd like England's sons | H2 |
| But bore the levin darting guns | H2 |
| Buff coats all frounc'd and 'broider'd o'er | U |
| And morsing horns and scarfs they wore | U |
| Each better knee was bared to aid | U |
| The warriors in the escalade | U |
| All as they march'd in rugged tongue | B2 |
| Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung | B2 |
| - | |
| XIX | H2 |
| But louder still the clamour grew | H |
| And louder still the minstrels blew | H |
| When fom beneath the greenwood tree | U |
| Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry | U |
| His men at arms with glaive and spear | U |
| Brought up the battle's glittenng rear | U |
| There many a youthful knight full keen | T |
| To gain his spurs in arms was seen | T |
| With favor in his crest or glove | Z |
| Memorial of his ladye love | Z |
| So rode they forth in fair array | U |
| Till full their lengthen'd lines display | U |
| Then call'd a halt and made a stand | U |
| And cried St George for merry England | U |
| - | |
| XX | H2 |
| Now every English eye intent | U |
| On Branksome's armed towers was bent | U |
| So near they were that they might know | T |
| The straining harsh of each cross bow | A2 |
| On battlement and bartizan | T |
| Gleam'd axe and spear and partisan | T |
| Falcon and culver on each tower | U |
| Stood prompt their deadly hail to shower | U |
| And flashing armor frequent broke | B2 |
| From eddying whirls of sable smoke | B2 |
| Where upon tower and turret head | U |
| The seething pitch and molten lead | U |
| Reek'd like a witch's caldron red | U |
| While yet they gaze the bridges fall | Z |
| The wicket opes and from the wall | Z |
| Rides forth the hoary Seneschal | Z |
| - | |
| XXI | H2 |
| Armed he rode all save the head | U |
| His white beard o'er his breast plate spread | U |
| Unbroke by age erect his seat | U |
| He rul'd his eager courser's gait | U |
| Forc'd him with chasten'd fire to prance | H2 |
| And high curvetting slow advance | H2 |
| In sign of truce his better hand | U |
| Display'd a peeled willow wand | U |
| His squire attending in the rear | U |
| Bore high a gauntlet on a spear | U |
| When they espied him riding out | U |
| Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout | U |
| Sped to the front of their array | U |
| To hear what this old knight should say | U |
| - | |
| XXII | U |
| Ye English warden lords of you | H |
| Demands the Ladye of Buccleuch | H |
| Why 'gainst the truce of Border tide | U |
| In hostile guise ye dare to ride | U |
| With Kendal bow and Gilsland brand | U |
| And all yon mercenary band | U |
| Upon the bounds of fair Scotland | U |
| My Ladye redes you swith return | T |
| And if but one poor straw you burn | T |
| Or do our towers so much molest | U |
| As scare one swallow from her nest | U |
| St Mary but we'll light a brand | U |
| Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland | U |
| - | |
| XXIII | U |
| A wrathful man was Dacre's lord | U |
| But calmer Howard took the word | U |
| May 't please thy Dame Sir Seneschal | Z |
| To seek the castle's outward wall | Z |
| Our pursuivant at arms shall show | H |
| Both why we came and when we go | H |
| The message sped the noble Dame | M |
| To the wall's outward circle came | M |
| Each chief around lean'd on his spear | U |
| To see the pursuivant appear | U |
| All in Lord Howard's livery dress'd | U |
| The lion argent deck d his breast | U |
| He led a boy of blooming hue | H |
| O sight to meet a mother's view | H |
| It was the heir of great Buccleuch | H |
| Obeisance meet the herald made | U |
| And thus his master's will he said | U |
| - | |
| XXIV | H |
| It irks high Dame my noble Lords | U |
| 'Gainst ladye fair to draw their swords | U |
| But yet they may not tamely see | U |
| All through the Western Wardenry | U |
| Your law contemning kinsmen ride | U |
| And burn and spoil the Border side | U |
| And ill beseems your rank and birth | L2 |
| To make your towers a flemens firth | L2 |
| We claim from thee William of Deloraine | T |
| That he may suffer march treason pain | T |
| It was but last St Cuthbert's even | T |
| He bunny'd to Stapleton on Leven | T |
| Harried the lands of Richard Musgrave | H |
| And slew his brother by dint of glaive | H |
| Then since a lone and widow'd Dame | M |
| These restless riders may not tame | M |
| Either receive within thy towers | U |
| Two hundred of my master's powers | U |
| Or straight they sound their warrison | T |
| And storm and spoil thy garrison | T |
| And this fair boy to London led | U |
| Shall good King Edward's page be bred | U |
| - | |
| XXV | H |
| He ceased and loud the boy did cry | U |
| And stretch'd his little arms on high | U |
| Implor'd for aid each well known face | U |
| And strove to seek the Dame's embrace | U |
| A moment chang'd that Ladye's cheer | U |
| Gush'd to her eye the unbidden tear | U |
| She gaz'd upon the leaders round | U |
| And dark and sad each warrior frown'd | U |
| Then deep within her sobbing breast | U |
| She lock'd the struggling sigh to rest | U |
| Unalter'd and collected stood | U |
| And thus replied in dauntless mood | U |
| - | |
| XXVI | U |
| Say to your Lords of high emprize | U |
| Who war on women and on boys | U |
| That either William of Deloraine | T |
| Will cleanse him by oath of march treason stain | T |
| Or else he will the combat take | B2 |
| 'Gainst Musgrave for his honor's sake | B2 |
| No knight in Cumberland so good | U |
| But William may count with him kin and blood | U |
| Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword | U |
| When English blood swell'd Ancram's ford | U |
| And but Lord Dacre's steed was wight | U |
| And bare him ably in the flight | U |
| Himself had seen him dubb'd a knight | U |
| For the young heir of Branksome's line | T |
| God be his aid and God be mine | T |
| Through me no friend shall meet his doom | M2 |
| Here while I live no foe finds room | M2 |
| Then if thy Lords their purpose urge | N2 |
| Take our defiance loud and high | U |
| Our slogan is their lyke wake dirge | N2 |
| Our moat the grave where they shall lie | U |
| - | |
| XXVII | U |
| Proud she look'd round applause to claim | M |
| Then lighten'd Thirlestane's eye of flame | M |
| His bugle Wat of Harden blew | H |
| Pensils and pennons wide were flung | B2 |
| To heaven the Border slogan rung | B2 |
| St Mary for the young Buccleuch | H |
| The English war cry answer'd wide | U |
| And forward bent each southern spear | U |
| Each Kendal archer made a stride | U |
| And drew the bowstring to his ear | U |
| Each minstrel's war note loud was blown | T |
| But ere a grey goose shaft had flown | T |
| A horseman gallop'd from the rear | U |
| - | |
| XXVIII | U |
| Ah noble Lords he breathless said | U |
| What treason has your march betray'd | U |
| What make you here from aid so far | U |
| Before you walls around you war | U |
| Your foemen triumph in the thought | U |
| That in the toils the lion's caught | U |
| Already on dark Ruberslaw | H |
| The Douglas holds his weapon schaw | H |
| The lances waving in his train | T |
| Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain | T |
| And on the Liddel's northern strand | U |
| To bar retreat to Cumberland | U |
| Lord Maxwell ranks his merry men good | U |
| Beneath the eagle and the rood | U |
| And Jedwood Eske and Teviotdale | H |
| Have to proud Angus come | K2 |
| And all the Merse and Lauderdale | H |
| Have risen with haughty Home | O2 |
| An exile from Northumberland | U |
| In Liddesdale I've wander'd long | B2 |
| But still my heart was with merry England | U |
| And cannot brook my country's wrong | B2 |
| And hard I've spurr'd all night to show | H |
| The mustering of the coming foe | H |
| - | |
| XXIX | U |
| And let them come fierce Dacre cried | U |
| For soon yon crest my father's pride | U |
| That swept the shores of Judah's sea | U |
| And wav'd in gales of Galilee | U |
| From Branksome's highest towers display'd | U |
| Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid | U |
| Level each harquebuss on row | H |
| Draw merry archers draw the bow | A2 |
| Up bill men to the walls and cry | U |
| Dacre for England win or die | U |
| - | |
| XXX | U |
| Yet hear quoth Howard calmly hear | U |
| Nor deem my words the words of fear | U |
| For who in field or foray slack | B2 |
| Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back | B2 |
| But thus to risk our Border flower | U |
| In strife against a kingdom's power | U |
| Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three | U |
| Certes were desperate policy | U |
| Nay take the terms the Ladye made | U |
| Ere conscious of the advancing aid | U |
| Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine | T |
| In single fight and if he gain | T |
| He gains for us but if he's cross'd | U |
| 'Tis but a single warrior lost | U |
| The rest retreating as they came | M |
| Avoid defeat and death and shame | M |
| - | |
| XXXI | U |
| Ill could the haughty Dacre brook | B2 |
| His brother Warden's sage rebuke | B2 |
| And yet his forward step he stay'd | U |
| And slow and sullenly obey'd | U |
| But ne'er again the Border side | U |
| Did these two lords in friendship ride | U |
| And this slight discontent men say | U |
| Cost blood upon another day | U |
| - | |
| XXXII | U |
| The pursuivant at arms again | T |
| Before the castle took his stand | U |
| His trumpet call'd with parleying strain | T |
| The leaders of the Scottish band | U |
| And he defied in Musgrave's right | U |
| Stout Deloraine to single fight | U |
| A gauntlet at their feet he laid | U |
| And thus the terms of fight he said | U |
| If in the lists good Musgrave's sword | U |
| Vanquish the Knight of Deloraine | T |
| Your youthful chieftain Branksome's Lord | U |
| Shall hostage for his clan remain | T |
| If Deloraine foil good Musgrave | U |
| The boy his liberty shall have | U |
| Howe'er it falls the English band | U |
| Unharming Scots by Scots unharm'd | U |
| In peaceful march like men unarm'd | U |
| Shall straight retreat to Cumberland | U |
| - | |
| XXXIII | U |
| Unconscious of the near relief | U |
| The proffer pleased each Scottish chief | U |
| Though much the Ladye sage gainsay'd | U |
| For though their hearts were brave and true | H |
| From Jedwood's recent sack they knew | H |
| How tardy was the Regent's aid | U |
| And you may guess the noble Dame | M |
| Durst not the secret prescience own | T |
| Sprung from the art she might not name | M |
| By which the coming help was known | T |
| Clos'd was the compact and agreed | U |
| That lists should be enclos'd with speed | U |
| Beneath the castle on a lawn | T |
| They fix'd the morrow for the strife | U |
| On foot with Scottish axe and knife | U |
| At the fourth hour from peep of dawn | T |
| When Deloraine from sickness freed | U |
| Or else a champion in his stead | U |
| Should for himself and chieftain stand | U |
| Against stout Musgrave hand to hand | U |
| - | |
| XIV | U |
| I know right well that in their lay | U |
| Full many minstrels sing and say | U |
| Such combat should be made on horse | U |
| On foaming steed in full career | U |
| With brand to aid when as the spear | U |
| Should shiver in the course | U |
| But he the jovial Harper taught | U |
| Me yet a youth how it was fought | U |
| In guise which now I say | U |
| He knew each ordinance and clause | U |
| Of Black Lord Archibald s battle laws | U |
| In the old Douglas' day | U |
| He brook'd not he that scoffing tongue | B2 |
| Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong | B2 |
| Or call his song untrue | H |
| For this when they the goblet plied | U |
| And such rude taunt had chaf'd his pride | U |
| The Bard of Reull he slew | H |
| On Teviot's side in fight they stood | U |
| And tuneful hands were stain'd with blood | U |
| Where still the thorn's white branches wave | U |
| Memorial o'er his rival's grave | U |
| - | |
| XXXV | U |
| Why should I tell the rigid doom | M2 |
| That dragg'd my master to his tomb | M2 |
| How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair | U |
| Wept till their eyes were dead and dim | P2 |
| And wrung their hands for love of him | P2 |
| Who died at Jedwood Air | U |
| He died his scholars one by one | T |
| To the cold silent grave are gone | T |
| And I alas survive alone | T |
| To muse o'er rivalries of yore | U |
| And grieve that I shall hear no more | U |
| The strains with envy heard before | U |
| For with my minstrel brethren fled | U |
| My jealousy of song is dead | U |
| He paused the listening dames again | T |
| Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain | T |
| With many a word of kindly cheer | U |
| In pity half and half sincere | U |
| Marvell'd the Duchess how so well | H |
| His legendary song could tell | H |
| Of ancient deeds so long forgot | U |
| Of feuds whose memory was not | U |
| Of forests now laid waste and bare | U |
| Of towers which harbor now the hare | U |
| Of manners long since chang'd and gone | T |
| Of chiefs who under their grey stone | T |
| So long had slept that fickle Fame | M |
| Had blotted from her rolls their name | M |
| And twin'd round some new minion's head | U |
| The fading wreath for which they bled | U |
| In sooth 'twas strange this old man's verse | U |
| Could call them from their marble hearse | U |
| - | |
| The Harper smil'd well pleas'd for ne'er | U |
| Was flattery lost on poet's ear | U |
| A simple race they waste their toil | H |
| For the vain tribute of a smile | H |
| E'en when in age their flame expires | U |
| Her dulcet breath can fan its fires | U |
| Their drooping fancy wakes at praise | U |
| And strives to trim the short liv'd blaze | U |
| - | |
| Smil'd then well pleas'd the aged man | T |
| And thus his tale continued ran | T |
Walter Scott (sir)
(1)
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About The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Iv
The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Iv is a poem by Walter Scott (sir). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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