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Where'er the royal Edward fonght,

Brave Gordon aye would wend; And Edward, like a noble prince,

Was ever Gordon's friend. Anonymous.


Srout Hume, he dwelt in fair Scotland,

A wortliy wight was he;
Whene'er he rais'd his burnish'd brand,

He caus'd his foes to flee.
And yet he was in prime of youth,

Of years scant twenty-five;
In deeds of war, to say the truth,

He fear'd no man alive.
Of years scant twenty-five was he,

And comely was his face;
His yellow locks, in ringlets free,

Hung down his neck with grace.
Blue were his eyes, and streams of fire,

When angry, from them came;
Not so when urg'd by soft desire,

He wooed the yielding dame.
His cheeks were red, for health was there,

And taught the blood to flow :
His limbs were strong, yet light as air

He chas'd the bounding roe.
Stout Hume to youthful Murray said,

“My soul is sick with love;
I'm vanquish'd by an English maid;

Thy faith I mean to prove:

• Oft hast thou told me, trust my aid,

In any bold emprize'--
Quoth Murray, ' what he once hath said,

Accurs'd be who denies!


The word which once I promis'd have,

I still will keep to death :
Thou shalt not frown upon my grave;

I'm thine while I have breath.'

• Then saddle straight thy dapple steed,

And take thy bow in hand; While I, to serve in time of need,

Gird on my trusty band.

· And let us straight to Langley's haste,

A churlish knight and bold;
Fair Rosaline, his daughter chaste,

Is she I long to enfold.

*He is a knight of Percy's train;

And, when a hostage there, I strove fair Rosaline to gain,

But he refus'd my prayer.

• O Rosaline! how passing fair,

How beautiful art thou ! Like clust'ring blossoms waves thy hair

Upon the summer bough.

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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,

And whets his darts of war;
Her eyebrows are the heav'nly clouds

Whence breaks the morning star.

• Her teeth the iv'ry laugh to scorn;

Her neck the crystal clear,
Through which, in azure channels borne,

The streams of life appear.

" 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

Must do this deed alone !! • Let us,' brave Murray answered, 'fly,

The deed it shall be done.'

Each mounted then his dapple steed,

They left the Scottish strand; Through Langley's wood they now proceed,

In fair Northumberland.

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,

And lowly bent his knee.

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 wanted not a guide;
He cross'd the ditch, both wide and deep,

And landed on t'other side.

They spurr'd their dapple steeds along,

Their steeds outstripp'd the wind; And soon was Langley's castle strong

Full many a mile behind.

'Langley, awake!' the porter cries,

Your daughter's fled away;
She is fled with Hume; arise! arise !

Pursue without delay!

Then Langley call’d his four bold sons,

As bold as bold could be ;
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.'

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Nay, Heav'n forefend! brave Hume replied,

• That thou alone shouldst stand, I'll fix my feet thy feet beside,

And meet yon hostile band.'

• Fly on, fly on,' bold Murray cries,

· For know, unless I dream, Unless my bow-string fail, or eges,

Not one shall cross the stream.'

O spare my father's valued life!'

Quoth Rosaline, with a sigh; • O spare my brethren in the strife'

Quoth Murray, ' None shall die.'

The lovers fled-His bow he drew,

And twang’d with utmost force, The arrow from the elastic yew

Straight killd the foremost horse.

Again he shot, nor miss'd his aim,

Another horse fell dead;
Three more fell flound'ring in the stream,

And then bold Murray fled.

He join'd the lovers in their flight,

The happy deed he told ;
Her cheeks warm blushes render bright,

Which fear before made cold.

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