"The second night I kept her in sight, And, by Mary's might! an armed knight "And many a word that warlike lord But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, “The third night there the sky was fair, "And I heard her name the midnight hour, And name this holy eve; And say, 'Come this night to thy lady's bower; "He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch ; The door she'll undo to her knight sae true, "I cannot come, I must not come; I dare not come to thee; On the eve of St John I must wander alone; "Now, out on thee, fainted-hearted knight! For the eve is sweet, and, when lovers meet, "And I'll chain the bloodhound, and the warder And rushes shall be strew'd on the stair; So, by the black rood-stone,1 and by holy St John, 1 The black rood of Melrose was a crucifix of black marble, and of superior sanctity. "Though the bloodhound be mute, and the rush And the warder his bugle should not blow, Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the And my footstep he would know.'— "Oh, fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east! "He turn'd him around, and grimly he frown'd; 'He who says the mass-rite for the soul of that May as well say mass for me. "At the lone midnight hour, when bad spirits In thy chamber will I be.' With that he was gone, and my lady left alone, Then changed, I trow, was that bold Baron's brow, "Now, tell me the mien of the knight thou had For, by Mary, he shall die!" "His arms shone full bright, in the beacon's red His plume it was scarlet and blue; On his shield was a hound, in a silver leash bound, "Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot-page, For that knight is cold, and low laid in the mould, 1 Eildon is a high hill, terminating in three conical summits, immediately above the town of Melrose. "Yet hear but my word, my noble lord! And that lady bright, she call'd the knight, The bold Baron's brow then changed, I trow, "The grave is deep and dark-and the corpse is stiff and stark So I may not trust thy tale. "Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose, Full three nights ago, by some secret foe, "The varying light deceived thy sight, And the wild winds drown'd the name; For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks do sing, For Sir Richard of Coldinghame!" He pass'd the court-gate, and he oped the tower grate, And he mounted the narrow stair To the bartizan-seat, where, with maids that on her wait, He found his lady fair. That lady sat in mournful mood; Look'd over hill and vale; Over Tweed's fair flood, and Mertoun's wood, "Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright!"— What news, what news from Ancram fight? "The Ancram Moor is red with gore, And Buccleuch has charged us, evermore The lady blush'd red, but nothing she said; Then she stepp'd down the stair to her chamber fair, And so did her moody lord. In sleep the lady mourn'd, and the Baron toss'd and turn'd, And oft to himself he said "The worms around him creep, and his bloody grave is deep . . . . It cannot give up the dead!" It was near the ringing of matin-bell, The lady look'd through the chamber fair, And she was aware of a knight stood there-- "Alas! away, away!" she cried, 66 "For the holy Virgin's sake! Lady, I know who sleeps by thy side; But, lady, he will not awake. "By Eildon-tree, for long nights three, In bloody grave have I lain; The mass and the death-prayer are said for me, But, lady, they are said in vain. 66 By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand, And my restless sprite on the beacon's height "At our trysting place, for a certain space I must wander to and fro; But I had not had power to come to thy bower, Hadst thou not conjured me so." Love master'd fear-her brow she cross'd; "Who spilleth life, shall forfeit life, That lawless love is guilt above, He laid his left palm on an oaken beam; The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk, The sable score, of fingers four, There is a Nun in Dryburgh bower, That Nun, who ne'er beholds the day, THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. "THE ballad of "The Douglas Tragedy" is one of the few to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality. The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event. There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farmhouse, in a wild solitary gien, upon a torrent named Douglas Burn, which joins the Yarrow after passing a craggy rock called the Douglas Craig. From this ancient tower Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, |