O, haste thee, Douglas, to the fray,
Ere won be that important way!

The Southron's countless prey, within
The dreadful coils of Crighup linn,

No

passage from the moor can find,— The wood below, the gulf behind: One pass there is, and one alone,

And in that pass stands Morison.

Who crosses there, or man or beast,

Must make their passage o'er his breast,

And over heaps of mangled dead,

That dam red Cample from its bed.

His sister's cries his soul alarm,

And add new vigour to his arm.
His twenty men are waned to ten.

O, haste to dauntless Locherben!

The Southrons, baulked, impatient turn,

And crowd once more the fatal bourn.
All desperate grew the work of death,

No yielding but with yielding breath;

Even still lay every death-struck man,
For footing to the furious van.

The little band was seized with dread,
Behind their rampart of the dead:
Power from their arms began to fly,
And hope within their breasts to die,
When loud they heard the cheering word
Of" Douglas! Douglas!" cross the ford;
Then turned the Southron swift as wind,
For fierce the battle raged behind.

O, stay, brave Morison! O, stay! Guard but that pass till break of day; Thy flocks, thy sister to retrieve, That task to doughty Douglas leave: Let not thine ardour all betray,Thy might is spent-brave warrior, stay.

O, for the lyre of heaven, that rung When Linden's lofty hymn was sung;

T

Or his, who from the height beheld
The reeling strife of Flodden field!
Then far on wing of genius borne
Should ring the wonders of that morn:
Morn!-ah! how many a warrior bold
That morn was never to behold!

When rival rank to rank drew nigh,

When

eye was fixed on foeman's eye, When lowered was lance, and bent was bow, And faulchion clenched to strike the blow, No breath was heard, nor clank of mail, Each face with rage grew deadly pale. Trembled the moon's reluctant ray; The breeze of heaven sunk soft away.

So furious was that onset's shock, Destruction's gates at once unlock : "Twas like the earthquake's hollow groan, When towers and towns are overthrown: "Twas like the river's midnight crush,

When snows dissolve, and torrents rush;

When fields of ice, in rude array,

Obstruct its own resistless way:

"Twas like the whirlwind's rending sweep. "Twas like the tempest of the deep, Where Corrybraken's surges driven,

Meet, mount, and lash the breast of heaven.

"Twas foot to foot, and brand to brand;

Oft hilt to hilt, and hand to hand;

Oft gallant foemen, woe to tell,
Dead in each other's bosoms fell!

The horsemen met with might and main,
Then reeled, and wheeled, and met again.
A thousand spears on hawberks bang;

A thousand swords on helmets clang.
Where might was with the feebler blent,
Still there the line of battle bent;

As oft recoiled from flank assail,

While blows fell thick as rattling hail.
Nature stood mute that fateful hour,
All save the ranks on Cample-moor,

And mountain goats that left their den,
And bleating fled to Garroch glen.

Dumlanrig, aye in battle keen,
The foremost in the broil was seen:
Woe to the warrior dared withstand
The progress of his deadly brand!
He sat so firm, he reined so well,
Whole ranks before his charger fell.
A valiant youth kept by his side,
With crest and armour crimson-dyed;
Charged still with him the yielding foe,
And seconded his every blow.

The Douglas wondered whence he came,
And asked his lineage and his name.

"Twas he who kept the narrow way,

Who raised at first the battle-fray,

And roused Dumlanrig and his men,—

Brave Morison of Locherben.

"My chief," he said, "forgive my For one than life to me more dear;

fear