"His arms shone full bright, in the beacon's red light;
"His plume it was scarlet and blue;
"On his shield was a hound, in a silver leash bound,
"And his crest was a branch of the yew."
"Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot-page,
"Loud dost thou lie to me!
"For that knight is cold, and low laid in the mould,
"All under the Eildon-tree."[59]
"Yet hear but my word, my noble lord!
"For I heard her name his name;
"And that lady bright, she called the knight,
"Sir Richard of Coldinghame."
The bold Baron's brow then chang'd, I trow,
From high blood-red to pale—
"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,
"And Eildon slopes to the plain,
"Full three nights ago, by some secret foe,
"That gay gallant was slain."
"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[60] wood,
And all down Tiviotdale.
"Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright!"
"Now hail, thou Baron true!
"What news, what news, from Ancram fight?
"What news from the bold Buccleuch?"
"The Ancram Moor is red with gore,
"For many a southern fell;
"And Buccleuch has charged us, evermore,
"To watch our beacons well."