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The captive, stretched in dungeon deep,
Waked from his painful visioned sleep;
His meagre form from pavement raised,
And listened to the sounds amazed:
Both bayle and keep rang with the din,
And Douglas heard the noise within.

"Ho! rise, Dumlanrig! all's at stake!
Ho! rise, Dumlanrig! Douglas, wake!—
Blow, warder-blow thy warning shrill,
Light up the beacon on the hill,

For round thee reaves thy ruthless foe.---
Arise, Dumlanrig! Douglas, ho!"-

His fur-cloak round him Douglas threw,

And to the crennel eager flew.

"What news? what news? thou stalwart groom

Who thus, in midnight's deepest gloom,

Bring'st to my gate the loud alarm

Of foray wide and country harm?

What are thy dangers? what thy fears?

Say out thy message, Douglas hears."

"Haste, Douglas! Douglas, arm with speed,

And mount thy fleetest battle steed;

For Lennox, with the southern host,

Whom thou hast baulked and curbed the most,
Like locusts from the Solway blown,
Are spread upon thy mountains brown;
Broke from their camp in search of prey,
They drive thy flocks and herds away;
Roused by revenge, and hunger keen,
They've swept the hills of fair Dalveen;
Nor left thee bullock, goat, or steer,

On all the holms of Durisdeer.

"One troop came to my father's hall; They burnt our tower,-they took our all.

My dear, my only sister May,

By force the ruffians bore away;

Nor kid, nor lamb, bleats in the glen,

Around all lonely Locherben!

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My twenty men, I have no moe,

Eager to cross the roaming foe,

Well armed with hauberk and broad sword,
Keep ward at Cample's rugged ford.
Before they bear their prey across,.
Some Southrons shall their helmets lose,
If not the heads those helmets shield,-
O, haste thee, Douglas, to the field !”-
With that his horse around he drew,

And down the path like lightning flew.

"Arm," cried the Douglas,

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one and all !"

And vanished from the echoing wall.
"Arm!" was the word; along it ran
Through manor, bayle, and barbican;
And clank and clatter burst at once
From every loop of hall and sconce.

With whoop of groom, and warder's call,

And prancing steeds, 'twas hurry all.

At first, like thunder's distant tone, The rattling din came rolling on, Echoed Dumlanrig woods around; Louder and louder swelled the sound, Till like the sheeted flame of wonder,

That rends the shoals of heaven asunder.

When first the word, "To arms!" was given,

Glowed all the eastern porch of heaven;

A wreathy cloud of orient brown,

Had heralded the rising moon,

Whose verge was like a silver bow,
Bending o'er Ganna's lofty brow;
And ere above the mountain blue
Her wasted orb was rolled in view,
A thousand men, in armour sheen,
Stood ranked upon Dumlanrig green.

The Nith they stemmed in firm array;
For Cample-ford they bent their way.
Than Douglas and his men that night,

Never saw yeomen nobler sight;
Mounted on tall curvetting steed,

He rode undaunted at their head;
His shadow on the water still,

Like giant on a moving hill.

The ghastly bull's-head scowled on high,
Emblem of death to foemen's eye;
And bloody hearts on streamers pale,

Waved wildly in the midnight gale.

O, haste thee, Douglas! haste and ride! Thy kinsmen's corpses stem the tide! What red, what dauntless youth is he, Who stands in Cample to the knee; Whose arm of steel, and weapon good,

Still dyes the stream with Southern blood, While round him fall his faithful men?

'Tis Morison of Locherben.