THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ His slacken’d bow was in his hand,

       And the leash that was his bloodhound’s band.

       XVIII

      He would not do the fair child harm,

       But held him with his powerful arm,

       That he might neither fight nor flee;

       For when the Red-Cross spied he,

       The boy strove long and violently.

       “Now, by St. George,” the archer cries,

       “Edward, methinks we have a prize!

       This boy’s fair face, and courage free,

       Show he is come of high degree.”

       XIX

      “Yes! I am come of high degree,

       For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch

       And, if thou dost not set me free,

       False Southron, thou shalt dearly rue!

       For Walter of Harden shall come with speed,

       And William of Deloraine, good at need,

       And every Scott, from Esk to Tweed;

       And, if thou dost not let me go,

       Despite thy arrows and thy bow

       I’ll have thee hang’d to feed the crow!”

       XX

      “Gramercy for thy goodwill, fair boy!

       My mind was never set so high;

       But if thou art chief of such a clan,

       And art the son of such a man

       And ever comest to thy command

       Our wardens had need to keep good order;

       My bow of yew to a hazel wand

       Thou’lt make them work upon the Border.

       Meantime, be pleased to come with me

       For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see;

       I think our work is well begun,

       When we have taken thy father’s son.”

       XXI

      Although the child was led away

       In Branksome still he seem’d to stay,

       For so the Dwarf his part did play;

       And, in the shape of that young boy,

       He wrought the castle much annoy.

       The comrades of the young Buccleuch

       He pinch’d, and beat, and overthrew;

       Nay, some of them he wellnigh slew.

       He tore Dame Maudlin’s silken tire

       And, as Sym Hall stood by the fire

       He lighted the match of his bandelier,

       And wofully scorch’d the hackbuteer.

       It may be hardly thought or said,

       The mischief that the urchin made,

       Till many of the castle guess’d,

       That the young Baron was possess’d!

       XXII

      Well I ween the charm he held

       The noble Ladye had soon dispell’d;

       But she was deeply busied then

       To tend the wounded Deloraine.

       Much she wonder’d to find him lie

       On the stone threshold stretch’d along;

       She thought some spirit of the sky

       Had done the bold mosstrooper wrong;

       Because, despite her precept dread

       Perchance he in the Book had read;

       But the broken lance in his bosom stood,

       And it was earthly steel and wood.

       XXIII

      She drew the splinter from the wound,

       And with a charm she stanch’d the blood;

       She bade the gash be cleans’d and bound:

       No longer by his couch she stood;

       But she has ta’en the broken lance,

       And wash’d it from the clotted gore

       And salved the splinter o’er and o’er.

       William of Deloraine, in trance

       Whene’er she turn’d it round and round,

       Twisted as if she gall’d his wound.

       Then to her maidens she did say

       That he should be whole man and sound

       Within the course of a night and day.

       Full long she toil’d; for she did rue

       Mishap to friend so stout and true.

       XXIV

      So pass’d the day; the evening fell,

       ‘Twas near the time of curfew bell;

       The air was mild, the wind was calm,

       The stream was smooth, the dew was balm;

       E’en the rude watchman on the tower

       Enjoy’d and bless’d the lovely hour.

       Far more fair Margaret lov’d and bless’d

       The hour of silence and of rest.

       On the high turret sitting lone,

       She waked at times the lute’s soft tone;

       Touch’d a wild note, and all between

       Thought of the bower of hawthorns green.

       Her СКАЧАТЬ