"The axe he bears, it hacks and tears;
"'Tis formed of an earth-fast flint;
"No armour of knight, tho' ever so wight,
"Can bear its deadly dint.
"No danger he fears, for a charm'd sword he wears;
"Of adderstone the hilt;
"No Tynedale knight had ever such might,
"But his heart-blood was spilt."
"In my plume is seen the holly green,
"With the leaves of the rowan tree;
"And my casque of sand, by a mermaid's hand,
"Was formed beneath the sea.
"Then, Margaret dear, have thou no fear!
"That bodes no ill to me,
"Though never a knight, by mortal might,
"Could match his gramarye."—
Then forward bound both horse and hound,
And rattle o'er the vale;
As the wintry breeze, through leafless trees,
Drives on the pattering hail.
Behind their course the English fells
In deepening blue retire;
Till soon before them boldly swells
The muir of dun Redswire.
And when they reached the Redswire high,
Soft beam'd the rising sun;
But formless shadows seemed to fly
Along the muir-land dun.
And when he reached the Redswire high,
His bugle Keeldar blew;
And round did float, with clamorous note
And scream, the hoarse curlew.
The next blast that young Keeldar blew,
The wind grew deadly still;
But the sleek fern, with fingery leaves,
Waved wildly o'er the hill.
The third blast that young Keeldar blew,
Still stood the limber fern;
And a wee man, of swarthy hue,
Up started by a cairn.