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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
The night was well nigh done,
On the eve of good St. John.
By the light of a dying flame;
Sir Richard of Coldinghame ! • Alas! away, away
!' she cried, '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. * By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand,
Most foully slain, I fell ; And my restless sprite on the beacon's height,
For a space is doom’d to dwell. " At our trysting-place, for a certain space,
I must wander to and fro;
Hadst thou not conjured me so.'—
How, Richard, hast thou sped ?
The Vision shook his head !
So bid thy lord believe :
This awful sign receive.'
He laid his left palm on an oaken beam ;
His right upon her hand :
For it scorch'd like a fiery brand.
Remains on that board impress'd;
A covering on her wrist.
Ne'er looks upon the sun :
He speaketh word to none.
That monk, who speaks to none-
Leader Haughs SING Erlington and Cowdenknowes where Homes had
ance commanding, And Drygrange with the milk-white ewes, 'twixt Tweed
and Leader standing. The bird that flees through Reedpath tiees, and Gledswood
banks ilk morrow, May chant and sing sweet Leader Haughs, and bonny
howms of Yarrow. But Minstrel Burn cannot assuage his grief while life
endureth, To see the changes of this age that fleeting time pro
cureth, For mony a place stands in hard case, where blyth folk
kenned nae sorrow, With Homes that dwelt on Leader braes, and Scott that dwelt on Yarrow.
Epitaph on a Hare HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue
Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo ; Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack hare. Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite. His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw ; Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.
On pippins' russet peel,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.
Whereon he loved to bound,
And swing his rump around.
For then he lost his fear,
Or when a storm drew near.
He thus saw steal away,
And every night at play.
For he would oft beguile
And force me to a smile.
But now beneath his walnut shade
He finds his long last home,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
From which no care can save,
Battle of Otterbourne
When the muir-men win their hay,
Into England, to catch a prey.
With them the Lindesays, light and gay ;
And they rue it to this day.
And part of Bambrough shire :
He left them all on fire.
And rode it round about ;
spake proud Lord Percy, then, And o but he spake hie! "I am the lord of this castle,
My wife's the lady gay!
Sae For, ere The
He took a lang spear in his hand,
Shod with the metal free,
He rode right furiouslie.
Frae aff the castle wa',
And never an eye to see,
But your sword sall gae wi' mee.' “But gae ye up to Otterbourne
And wait there dayis three ;
A fause knight ca' ye me.'
'Tis pleasant there to be ;
To feed my men and me. * The deer rins wild on hill and dale,
The birds fly wild from tree to tree; But there is neither bread nor kale,
To fend 1 my men and me.
Where you sall welcome be ;
A fause lord I'll ca' thee.'
"By the might of Our Ladye !'“There will I bide thee,' said the Douglas,
My trowth I plight to thee.'
Upon the bent sae brown;
· Fend, 'support.'