Where'er the royal Edward fought, Anonymous. HUME AND MURRAY. STOUT Hume, he dwelt in fair Scotland, He caus'd his foes to flee. And yet he was in prime of youth, Of years scant twenty-five was he, Blue were his eyes, and streams of fire, His cheeks were red, for health was there, Stout Hume to youthful Murray said, I'm vanquish'd by an English maid; Oft hast thou told me, trust my aid, In any bold emprize'- Quoth Murray, 'what he once hath said, 'The word which once I promis'd have, Thou shalt not frown upon my grave; 'Then saddle straight thy dapple steed, 'And let us straight to Langley's haste, 'He is a knight of Percy's train; 'O Rosaline! how passing fair, How beautiful art thou! Like clust'ring blossoms waves thy hair Upon the summer bough. 'Thy forehead mocks the mountain-snow, Thy lips the scarlet thread; Thy cheeks, where blooming roses grow, Is Cupid's fragrant bed. In her sweet eyes his form he shrouds, Her eyebrows are the heav'nly clouds 'Her teeth the iv'ry langh to scorn; 'The down of whitest swans 'twere shame To say her breast exceeds; Its swelling orbs the tender flame Of love and virtue feeds.' 'Why sit we here,' quoth Murray, 'then, And spend our time in words? Let us together call our men, And bid them take their swords.' 'Nay, Murray, nay, but thou and I Each mounted then his dapple steed, They reach'd the gate at morning tide, The gate of Langley-place; When, through a window, Rosaline, spied Her stately lover's pace. What light dispels the morning gloom! 'Tis she! my love! 'tis she!' Then to the ditch-side hasted Hume, With speed she through the window pass'd, And lit upon the ground; While Hume he cross'd the ditch with haste, He did not stay to sound. He bore her down the bank so steep, He cross'd the ditch, both wide and deep, They spurr'd their dapple steeds along, 'Langley, awake!' the porter cries, Then Langley call'd his four bold sons, They spur each steed, which swiftly runs, And scours across the lee. They spur their steeds with mickle might, Till, on a rising hill, They see the lovers full in sight, Yet onward prick they still. They see the lovers ford the Tweed, To whom thus Murray kind, 'Fly on, my friends, with treble speed, While I remain behind.' Nay, Heav'n forefend!' brave Hume replied, I'll fix my feet thy feet beside, Fly on, fly on,' bold Murray cries, 'For know, unless I dream, Unless my bow-string fail, or eyes, Not one shall cross the stream.' 'O spare my father's valued life!' The lovers fled-His bow he drew, Again he shot, nor miss'd his aim, Three more fell flound'ring in the stream, He join❜d the lovers in their flight, Her cheeks warm blushes render bright, |