101
Marauding chief! his sole delight
The moonlight raid, the morning fight;
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms,
In youth might tame his rage for arms;
And still in age he spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed;
Albeit the blanched locks below
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow;
Five stately warriors drew the sword
Before their father's band;
A braver knight than Harden's lord
Ne'er belted on a brand.
The moonlight raid, the morning fight;
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms,
In youth might tame his rage for arms;
And still in age he spurned at rest,
And still his brows the helmet pressed;
Albeit the blanched locks below
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow;
Five stately warriors drew the sword
Before their father's band;
A braver knight than Harden's lord
Ne'er belted on a brand.
X.
Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came,
And warriors more than I may name;
But better hearts o’er Border sod
To siege or rescue never rode.
Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came,
And warriors more than I may name;
But better hearts o’er Border sod
To siege or rescue never rode.
