Amid the strings his fingers strayed, And an uncertain warbling made And oft he shook his hoary head. And lightened up his faded eye, In varying cadence, soft or strong, THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO FIRST. I. THE feast was over in Branksome tower, And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower; Jesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, B II. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Knight, and page, and household squire, Or crowded round the ample fire. III. Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Nine-and-twenty squires of name, Brought them their steeds from bower to stall; Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall, Waited, duteous, on them all : They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch. IV. Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred. V.. Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, Waited the beck of the warders ten. A hundred more fed free in stall— Such was the custom of Branksome Hall. VI. Why do these steeds stand ready dight? They watch against Southern force and guile, From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. VII. Such is the custom of Branksome-Hall. Many a valiant knight is here; But he, the Chieftain of them all, His sword hangs rusting on the wall, Beside his broken spear. |