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SHEEP AMONG THE CHEVIOTS.
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SHEEP AMONG THE CHEVIOTS.
Graze on, graze on, there comes no sound
Of border-warfare here,
No slogan-cry of gathering clan,
No battle-axe, or spear,
No belted knight in armor bright,
With glance of kindled ire,
Doth change the sports of Chevy-Chase
To conflict stern and dire.
Ye wist not that ye press the spot,
Where Percy held his way
Across the marches, in his pride,
The"chiefest harts to slay;"
And where the stout Earl Douglas rode
Upon his milk-white steed,
With"fifteen hundred Scottish spears,"
To stay the invaders' deed.
