Sidor som bilder
PDF
ePub

Then rushing in, with stretch'd out field

He o'er the warrior hung;
As fome fierce eagle spreads her wing

'To guard her callow young.

Three times they frove to seize their prey,

Three times they quick retire : What force could tand his furious Arokes,

Or meet his martial fire ?

Now gathering round on every part

The battle rağ'd amain ;
And many a lady wept her lord

That hour untimely slain.

Percy and DOUGLAS, great in arms,
There all their courage

Thow'd;
And all the field was strew'd with dead,

And all with crimson fow'd.

At length the glory of the day

The Scots reluctant yield,
And, after wonderous valour shown,

They Nowly quit the field.

All pale extended on their shields

And weltering in his gore, Lord Percy's knights their bleeding friend

To WARK's fair castle bore.

Well haft thou earn'd my daughter's love ;

Her father kindly sed;
And she herself shall dress thy wounds,

And tend thee in thy bed.

A meflage went, no daughter came;

Fair ISABEL ne'er appears : Beshrew me, said the aged chief,

Young maidens have their fears.

Cheer

up, my fon, thou shalt her fee So foon as thou canst ride ; And the shall nurse thee in her bower,

And she shall be thy bride.

Sir Bertram, at her name reviv’d,

He bless'd the foothing found 5 Fond hope fupplied the Nurse's care, And heal'd his ghafly wound.

WARK castle, a fortress belonging to the English, and of great note in antient times, ftood on the southern bank of the river Tweed, a little to the east of Tiviotdale, and not far from Kelso. It is now entirely deftroyed.

THE END OF THE SECOND Part.

Τ Η Ε

HERMIT of WARKWORTH.

A

Northumberland BALL A D.

144444444444

FIT THE THIRD

NE early morn while dewy drops

Hung trembling on the tree, Sir Bertram from his fick bed rofe, His bride he would

go

see.

A brother he had in prime of youth,

Of courage firm and keen, And he would tend him on the

way Because his wounds were green.

All day o'er moss and moor they rode,

By many a lonely tower;
And 'twas the dew-fall of the night

Ere they drew near her bower.

Most drear and dark the castle feem's,

That wont to shine su bright;
And long and loud Sir Bertram callid

Ere he beheld a light.

At length her aged Nurse arose

With voice so Ihrill and clear : What wight is this, that calls so lond,

And knocks so boldly here?

'Tis Bertram calls, thy Lady's love,

Come from his bed of care : All day I've ridden o'er moor and moss

To see thy lady fair.

Now out alas! (the loudly shriek'd)

Alas! how may this be?
For fix long days are gone and past

Since she set out to thee.

Sad terror seiz'd Sir Bertram's heart,

And ready was he to fall ; When now the draw-bridge was let down,

And gates were open'd all.

Six days, young knight, are past and gone,

Since the set out to thee ;
And sure if no sad harm had hap'd

Long since thou would'tt her see.
For when she heard thy grievous chance

She tore her hair, and cried,
Alas! I've flain the comelieft knight,

All thro' my folly and pride!

And now to atone for my fad fault,

And his dear health regain,
I'll go myielf, and nurse my love,

And footh his bed of pain.

Then mounted she her milk-white fteed

One morn at break of day ;
And two tall yeomen went with her

To guard her on the way.

Sad terror fmote Sir Bertram's heart,

And grief o'erwhelm’d his mind : Truft me,

faid he, I ne'er will rest 'Till I thy lady find.

That night he spent in forrow and care ;

And with sad boding heart Or ever the dawning of the day

His brother and he depart.

1

Now, brother, we'll our ways divide,

O'er Scottish hills to range :
Do thou go north, and I'll go weft ;

And all our dress we'll change.

Some Scottish carle hath seiz'd my love,

And borne her to his den ;
And ne'er will I tread English ground

Till she is restored agen.

The brothers ftrait their paths divide,

O'er Scottish hills to range ;
And hide themselves in quaint disguise,

And oft their dress they change.

Sir Bertram clad in

gown

of

gray, Moft like a palmer poor, To halls and castles wanders round,

And begs from door to door.

Sometimes a Minstrel's garb he wears,

With pipes so sweet and shrill ; And wends to every tower and town; every

dale and hill.

O'er

« FöregåendeFortsätt »