Then rushing in, with ftretch'd out shield
He o'er the warrior hung;

As fome fierce eagle fpreads her wing
To guard her callow young.

Three times they farove to feize their prey,
Three times they quick retire :

What force could ftand his furious ftrokes, Or meet his martial fire ?

Now gathering round on every part
The battle rag'd amain;

And many a lady wept her lord
That hour untimely fain.

PERCY and DOUGLAS, great in arms,
There all their courage fhow'd;

And all the field was ftrew'd with dead,
And all with crimfon flow'd.

At length the glory of the day
The Scots reluctant yield,
And, after wonderous valour shown,
They flowly quit the field.

All pale extended on their shields

And weltering in his gore

Lord PERCY's knights their bleeding friend To WARK's fair caftle bore.

Well haft thou earn'd my daughter's love; Her father kindly fed;

And the herself fhall drefs thy wounds,

And tend thee in thy bed.

I 2

"How he the PERCY name reviv'd, "And how his noble line

"Still foremost in their country's cause "With godlike ardour shine."

With loud acclaims the liftening crowd
Applaud the masters' fong,
And deeds of arms and war became
The theme of every tongue.

Now high heroic acts they tell,
Their perils paft recall:

When, lo! a damfel young and fair
Step'd forward thro' the hall.

She Bertram courteously addrefs'd;
And kneeling on her knee;
Sir knight, the lady of thy love
Hath fent this gift to thee.

Then forth she drew a glittering helme
Well-plated many a fold,

The cafque was wrought of tempered steel,
The creft of burnish'd gold.

Sir knight, thy lady fends thee this,
And yields to be thy bride,
When thou haft prov'd this maiden gift
Where fharpeft blows are try'd.

Young Bertram took the fhining helme
And thrice he kifs'd the fame :
Trust me, I'll prove this precious cafque
With deeds of nobleft fame.

Lord PERCY and his baron's bold
Then fix upon a day

To fcour the marches, late opprefs'd
And Scottish wrongs repay.

The knights affembled on the hills
A thousand horfe and more;
Brave Widdrington, tho' funk in years,
The PERCY-ftandard bore.

Tweed's limpid current foon they pafs, And range the borders round; Down the green flopes of Tiviotdale Their bugle horns refound.

As when a lion in his den,

Hath heard the hunters' cries, And rushes forth to meet his foes, So did the DOUGLAS rife.

Attendant on their chief's command
A thousand warriors wait;
And now the fatal hour drew on
Of cruel keen debate.

A chofen troop of Scottish youths
Advance before the reft;

Lord PERCY mark'd their gallant mein,
And thus his friend addrefs'd.

Now, Bertram, prove thy Lady's helme,
Attack yon forward band;

Dead or alive I'll refcue thee,
Or perish by their hand.

I

Young Bertram, bow'd with glad affent,
And fpur'd his eager fteed,
And calling on his Lady's name,
Rush'd forth with whirlwind fpeed.

As when a grove of Sapling oaks
The livid lightning rende;
So fiercely 'mid the opposing ranks
Sir Bertram's fword defcends.

This way and that he drives the fteel,
And keenly pierces thro;
And many a tall and comely knight
With furious force he flew.

Now clofing faft on every fide
They hem Sir Bertram round :
But dauntless he repels their rage,
And deals forth
many a wound.

The vigour of his fingle arm

Had well-nigh won the field; When ponderous fell a Scottish axe, And clove his lifted fhield.

Another blow his temples took,
And reft his helme in twain;
That beauteous helme his lady's gift!
His blood bedewed the plain.

Lord PERCY faw his champion fall
Amid the unequal fight;

And now, my noble friends, he faid,
Let's fave this gallant knight.

Then rushing in, with ftretch'd out shield
He o'er the warrior hung;

As fome fierce eagle fpreads her wing
To guard her callow young.

Three times they ftrove to seize their prey,
Three times they quick retire:

What force could stand his furious ftrokes, Or meet his martial fire?

Now gathering round on every part
The battle rag'd amain;
And many a lady wept her lord
That hour untimely flain.

PERCY and DOUGLAS, great in

arms,

There all their courage fhow'd;

And all the field was ftrew'd with dead,
And all with crimfon flow'd.

At length the glory of the day
The Scots reluctant yield,
And, after wonderous valour shown,
They flowly quit the field.

All pale extended on their fhields
And weltering in his gore

Lord PERCY's knights their bleeding friend
To WARK's fair caftle bore.

Well haft thou earn'd my daughter's love; Her father kindly fed;

And the herself shall drefs thy wounds,

And tend thee in thy bed.

I 2