98
And all the German hagbut-men[1],
Who have long lain at Askerten:
They crossed the Liddle at curfew hour,
And burned my little lonely tower;
The fiend receive their souls therefor!
It had not been burned this year and more.
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight;
But I was chased the live-long night.
Black John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Græme
Fast upon my traces came,
Until I turned at Priesthaugh-Scrogg,
And shot their horses in the bog,
Slew Fergus with my lance outright;
I had him long at high despite:
He drove my cows last Fastern's night."
Who have long lain at Askerten:
They crossed the Liddle at curfew hour,
And burned my little lonely tower;
The fiend receive their souls therefor!
It had not been burned this year and more.
Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright,
Served to guide me on my flight;
But I was chased the live-long night.
Black John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Græme
Fast upon my traces came,
Until I turned at Priesthaugh-Scrogg,
And shot their horses in the bog,
Slew Fergus with my lance outright;
I had him long at high despite:
He drove my cows last Fastern's night."
VII.
Now weary scouts from Liddesdale,
Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale;
Now weary scouts from Liddesdale,
Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale;
- ↑ Musketeers.
