And she feasted him there,
As she ne'er feasted lord,
Though the blood of her husband
Was moist on his sword.”

There's grief in the cottage
And tears in the ha',
For the gay gallant Gordon
That's dead and awa'.

To the bush comes the bud,
And the flower to the plain,
But the good and the brave,
They come never again.

Allan Cunningham.

THE

Branksome Hall.

BRANKSOME HALL.

feast was over in Branksome tower,

And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower; Her bower that was guarded by word and by spell, Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell,

Jesu Maria, shield us well!

No living wight, save the Ladye alone,
Had dared to cross the threshold stone.

The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all;
Knight and page and household squire,

Loitered through the lofty hall,

Or crowded round the ample fire; The stag-hounds, weary with the chase, Lay stretched upon the rushy floor, And urged, in dreams, the forest race, From Teviot stone to Eskdale moor.

Nine-and-twenty knights of fame

Hung their shields in Branksome Hall;
Nine-and-twenty squires of name

Brought them their steeds to bower from stall;
Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall

Waited, duteous, on them all:

They were all knights of metal true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch.

Ten of them were sheathed in steel,
With belted sword and spur on heel:
They quitted not their harness bright,
Neither by day, nor yet by night;
They lay down to rest,

With corselet laced,

Pillowed on buckler cold and hard;

They carved at the meal

With gloves of steel,

And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.

Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men,
Waited the beck of the warders ten;
Thirty steeds, both fleet and wight,
Stood saddled in stable day and night,

Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow,
And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow:
A hundred more fed free in stall; -
Such was the custom of Branksome Hall.

Why do these steeds stand ready dight?
Why watch these warriors, armed, by night?
They watch to hear the bloodhound baying;
They watch to hear the war-horn braying,
To see St. George's red cross streaming,
To see the midnight beacon gleaming;
They watch, against Southern force and guile,
Lest Scroop, or Howard, or Percy's powers,
Threaten Branksome's lordly towers,

From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle.

Sir Walter Scott.

Bruar Water.

THE HUMBLE PETITION OF BRUAR WATER TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE.

My I e

[Y lord, I know your noble ear

Woe ne'er assails in vain ;

Emboldened thus, I beg you'll hear
Your humble slave complain,
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams,
In flaming summer-pride,

Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
And drink my crystal tide.

The lightly jumpin' glowrin' trouts,
That through my waters play,
If, in their random, wanton spouts,
They near the margin stray;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
I'm scorching up so shallow,
They're left the whitening stanes amang,
In gasping death to wallow.

Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
As Poet Burns came by,
That to a bard I should be seen
Wi' half my channel dry:
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
Even as I was he shored me;
But had I in my glory been,

He, kneeling, wad adored me.

Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks,
In twisting strength I rin;
There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild roaring o'er a linn:
Enjoying large each spring and well,
As nature gave them me,

I am, although I say 't mysel',
Worth gaun a mile to see.

Would then my noble master please

To grant my highest wishes,

He'll shade my banks wi' towering trees, And bonny spreading bushes.

Delighted doubly then, my lord,
You'll wander on my banks,
And listen monie a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.

The sober laverock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;

The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir;

The blackbird strong, the lint white clear,
The mavis mild and mellow,
The robin pensive autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow.

This, too, a covert shall insure

To shield them from the storm;
And coward maukin sleep secure,
Low in her grassy form.

Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
To weave his crown of flowers;
Or find a sheltering safe retreat
From prone descending showers.

And here, by sweet endearing stealth,
Shall meet the loving pair,

Despising worlds with all their wealth
As empty idle care.

The flowers shall vie in all their charms
The hour of heaven to grace,

And birks extend their fragrant arms

To screen the dear embrace.