The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

CANTO IV.] THE LAST MINSTREL. 141
XXVII.
Proud she look'd round, applause to claimThen lighten'd Thirlestane's eye of flame;
His bugle Wat of Harden blew;
Pensils and pennons wide were flung,
To heaven the Border slogan rung,
" St. Mary for the young Buccleuch!"
The English war-cry answer'd wide,
And forward bent each southern spear;
Each Kendal archer made a stride,
And drew the bowstring to his ear;
Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown;But, ere a gray-goose shaft had flown,
A horseman gallop'd from the rear.
XXVIII.
" Ah! noble Lords!" he breathless. said,
"What treason has your march betray'd?
What make you here, from aid so far,
Before you walls, around you war?
Your foemen triumph in the thought,
That in the toils the lion's caught.
Already on dark Ruberslaw
The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw;'
The lances, waving in his train,
Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain;
And on the Liddel's northern strand,
To bar retreat to Cumberland,
1 Weapon-schaw, the military array of a county.