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 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
125
A BORDER BALLAD
BY AN ENCHANTER UNKNOWN
“The Scot, to rival realms a mighty bar,
Here fixed his mountain home: a wide domain,
And rich the soil, had purple heath been grain:
But what the niggard ground of wealth denied,
From fields more blest his fearless arm supplied.”
Leyden.
Here fixed his mountain home: a wide domain,
And rich the soil, had purple heath been grain:
But what the niggard ground of wealth denied,
From fields more blest his fearless arm supplied.”
Leyden.
The Scotts, Kerrs, and Murrays, and Deloraines all,
The Hughies o' Hawdon, and Wills-o'-the-Wall,
The Willimondswicks, and the hard-riding Dicks,
Are stanch to the last to their old border tricks;
Wine flows not from heath, and bread grinds not from stone,
They must reeve for their living, or life they'll have none.
The Hughies o' Hawdon, and Wills-o'-the-Wall,
The Willimondswicks, and the hard-riding Dicks,
Are stanch to the last to their old border tricks;
Wine flows not from heath, and bread grinds not from stone,
They must reeve for their living, or life they'll have none.
When the Southron's strong arm, with the steel and the law,
Had tamed the Moss-troopers, so bonny and braw;
Though spiders wove webs in the rusty sword-hilt,
In the niche of the hall which their forefathers built;
Yet with sly paper credit and promise to pay,
They still drove the trade which the wise call convey.
Had tamed the Moss-troopers, so bonny and braw;
Though spiders wove webs in the rusty sword-hilt,
In the niche of the hall which their forefathers built;
Yet with sly paper credit and promise to pay,
They still drove the trade which the wise call convey.
They whitewashed the front of their old border fort;
They widened its loop-holes, and opened its court;
They put in sash-windows where none were before,
And they wrote the word “Bank” o'er the new-painted door;
The cross-bow and matchlock aside they did lay,
And they shot the stout Southron with promise to pay.
They widened its loop-holes, and opened its court;
126
And they wrote the word “Bank” o'er the new-painted door;
The cross-bow and matchlock aside they did lay,
And they shot the stout Southron with promise to pay.
They shot him from far and they shot him from near,
And they laid him as flat as their fathers laid deer:
Their fathers were heroes, though some called them thieves
When they ransacked their dwellings and drove off their beeves;
But craft undermined what force battered in vain,
And the pride of the Southron was stretched on the plain.
And they laid him as flat as their fathers laid deer:
Their fathers were heroes, though some called them thieves
When they ransacked their dwellings and drove off their beeves;
But craft undermined what force battered in vain,
And the pride of the Southron was stretched on the plain.
Now joy to the Hughies and Willies so bold!
The Southron, like Dickon, is bought and is sold;
To his goods and his chattels, his house and his land,
Their promise to pay is as Harlequin's wand:
A touch and a word, and pass, presto, begone,
The Southron has lost and the Willies have won.
The Southron, like Dickon, is bought and is sold;
To his goods and his chattels, his house and his land,
Their promise to pay is as Harlequin's wand:
A touch and a word, and pass, presto, begone,
The Southron has lost and the Willies have won.
The Hughies and Willies may lead a glad life:
They reap without sowing, they win without strife:
The Bruce and the Wallace were sturdy and fierce,
But where Scotch steel was broken Scotch paper can pierce;
And the true meed of conquest our minstrels shall fix,
On the promise to pay of our Willimondswicks.
They reap without sowing, they win without strife:
The Bruce and the Wallace were sturdy and fierce,
But where Scotch steel was broken Scotch paper can pierce;
And the true meed of conquest our minstrels shall fix,
On the promise to pay of our Willimondswicks.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |