THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Thence never shalt thou rise again!

       He chokes in blood! some friendly hand

       Undo the visor’s barred band,

       Unfix the gorget’s iron clasp,

       And give him room for life to gasp!

       O, bootless aid! haste, holy Friar,

       Haste, ere the sinner shall expire!

       Of all his guilt let him be shriven,

       And smooth his path from earth to heaven!

       XXIII

      In haste the holy Friar sped

       His naked foot was dyed with red

       As through the lists he ran;

       Unmindful of the shouts on high,

       That hail’d the conqueror’s victory,

       He rais’d the dying man;

       Loose wav’d his silver beard and hair,

       As o’er him he kneel’d down in prayer;

       And still the crucifix on high

       He holds before his darkening eye;

       And still he bends an anxious ear

       His faltering penitence to hear;

       Still props him from the bloody sod,

       Still, even when soul and body part,

       Pours ghostly comfort on his heart,

       And bids him trust in God.

       Unheard he prays; the death pang’s o’er!

       Richard of Musgrave breathes no more.

       XXIV

      As if exhausted in the fight,

       Or musing o’er the piteous sight,

       The silent victor stands;

       His beaver did he not unclasp,

       Mark’d not the shouts, felt not the grasp

       Of gratulating hands.

       When lo! strange cries of wild surprise,

       Mingled with seeming terror, rise

       Among the Scottish bands;

       And all amid the throng’d array,

       In panic haste gave open way

       To a half-naked ghastly man

       Who downward from the castle ran:

       He cross’d the barriers at a bound,

       And wild and haggard look’d around,

       As dizzy, and in pain;

       And all, upon the armed ground

       Knew William of Deloraine!

       Each ladye sprung from seat with speed;

       Vaulted each marshal from his steed;

       “And who art thou,” they cried,

       “Who hast this battle fought and won?”

       His plumed helm was soon undone,

       “Cranstoun of Teviotside!

       For this fair prize I’ve fought and won.”

       And to the Ladye led her son.

       XXV

      Full oft the rescued boy she kiss’d,

       And often press’d him to her breast;

       For, under all her dauntless show,

       Her heart had throbb’d at every blow;

       Yet not Lord Cranstoun deign’d she greet,

       Though low he kneeled at her feet.

       Me lists not tell what words were made,

       What Douglas, Home, and Howard said,

       For Howard was a generous foe,

       And how the clan united pray’d

       The Ladye would the feud forego,

       And deign to bless the nuptial hour

       Of Cranstoun’s Lord and Teviot’s Flower.

       XXVI

      She look’d to river, look’d to hill,

       Thought on the Spirit’s prophecy,

       Then broke her silence stern and still,

       “Not you, but Fate, has vanquish’d me;

       Their influence kindly stars may shower

       On Teviot’s tide and Branksome’s tower,

       For pride is quell’d, and love is free.”

       She took fair Margaret by the hand,

       Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand;

       That hand to Cranstoun’s lord gave she:

       “As I am true to thee and thine,

       Do thou be true to me and mine!

       This clasp of love our bond shall be;

       For this is your betrothing day,

       And all these noble lords shall stay

       To grace it with their company.”

       XXVII

      All as they left the listed plain

       Much of the story she did gain

       How Cranstoun fought with Deloraine

       And of his page, and of the Book

       Which from the wounded knight he took;

       And how he sought her castle high,

       That morn, by help of gramarye;

       How, in Sir William’s armor dight,

       Stolen by his page, while slept the knight,

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