legend of the border knight.
95
On the mystic future he oft would dwell.
The rambling thoughts which in his eager brain
Passing thro' his mind so oft, and again
The tales of glory, and of wondrous fame,
Which old Time had linked to the Leslies' name,
Oft raised the wild hope that he might find
Such bright golden wreathes his young brow to bind.
One beauteous eve of an Autumn day
Fast fading, alas! in dusky night away,
A horse's tramp was heard amid the brake fern
That luxuriant cluster'd by the burn,—
Sir Jasper started as slowly thro' the glade
Emerged beneath the old elm tree's shade,
Only attended by a single squire and page,
The scorned object of his mother's rage,
For too well he knew his proud rival's shield
With a cheveron blanche on a ruby field.
"Sir Lionel Gray," Sir Jasper wildly cried,
"The time for my vengeance hath now arrived?
Craven art thou!—thou base and recreant knight
Take up my gauntlet and prepare to fight."
As Jasper spoke he dash'd his gauntlet down.
And there amid'st the heather, dead and brown,
As with a dark and clouded brow he gaz'd
On the steel challenge, as it brightly blaz'd,
The silent witness of the coming strife
The rambling thoughts which in his eager brain
Passing thro' his mind so oft, and again
The tales of glory, and of wondrous fame,
Which old Time had linked to the Leslies' name,
Oft raised the wild hope that he might find
Such bright golden wreathes his young brow to bind.
One beauteous eve of an Autumn day
Fast fading, alas! in dusky night away,
A horse's tramp was heard amid the brake fern
That luxuriant cluster'd by the burn,—
Sir Jasper started as slowly thro' the glade
Emerged beneath the old elm tree's shade,
Only attended by a single squire and page,
The scorned object of his mother's rage,
For too well he knew his proud rival's shield
With a cheveron blanche on a ruby field.
"Sir Lionel Gray," Sir Jasper wildly cried,
"The time for my vengeance hath now arrived?
Craven art thou!—thou base and recreant knight
Take up my gauntlet and prepare to fight."
As Jasper spoke he dash'd his gauntlet down.
And there amid'st the heather, dead and brown,
As with a dark and clouded brow he gaz'd
On the steel challenge, as it brightly blaz'd,
The silent witness of the coming strife
