<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Feud: A Border Ballad</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PLATE I<br>Rixa super mero<br> <br>They sat by their wine in the tavern that night,<br>But not in good fellowship true :<br>The Rhenish was strong and the Burgundy bright,<br>And hotter the argument grew.<br> <br>'I asked your consent when I first sought her hand,<br>Nor did you refuse to agree,<br>Tho' her father declared that the half of his land<br>Her dower at our wedding should be.'<br> <br>'No dower shall be given (the brother replied)<br>With a maiden of beauty so rare,<br>Nor yet shall my father my birthright divide,<br>Our lands with a foeman to share.'<br> <br>The knight stood erect in the midst of the hall,<br>And sterner his visage became,<br>'Now, shame and dishonour my 'scutcheon befall<br>If thus I relinquish my claim.'<br> <br>The brother then drained a tall goblet of wine,<br>And fiercely this answer he made—<br>'Before like a coward my rights I resign<br>I'll claim an appeal to the blade.<br> <br>'The passes at Yarrow are rugged and wide,<br>There meet me to-morrow alone ;<br>This quarrel we two with our swords will decide,<br>And one shall this folly atone.'<br> <br>They've settled the time and they've settled the place,<br>They've paid for the wine and the ale,<br>They've bitten their gloves, and their steps they retrace<br>To their castles in Ettrick's Vale.<br> <br> <br>PLATE II<br>Morituri (te) salutant<br> <br>Now, buckle my broadsword at my side<br>And saddle my trusty steed ;<br>And bid me adieu, my bonnie bride,<br>To Yarrow I go with speed.<br>'I've passed through many a bloody fray,<br>Unharmed in health or limb ;<br>Then why's your brow so sad this day<br>And your dark eye so dim ?'<br> <br>'Oh, belt not on your broadsword bright,<br>Oh ! leave your steed in the stall,<br>For I dreamt last night of a stubborn fight,<br>And I dreamt I saw you fall.'<br> <br>'On Yarrow's braes there will be strife,<br>Yet I am safe from ill ;<br>And if I thought it would cost my life<br>I must take this journey still.'<br> <br>He turned his charger to depart<br>In the misty morning air,<br>But he stood and pressed her to his heart<br>And smoothed her glossy hair.<br> <br>And her red lips he fondly kissed<br>Beside the castle door,<br>And he rode away in the morning mist,<br>And he never saw her more !<br> <br> <br>PLATE III<br>Heu ! deserta domus<br> <br>She sits by the eastern casement now,<br>And the sunlight enters there,<br>And settles on her ivory brow<br>And gleams in her golden hair.<br>On the deerskin rug the staghound lies<br>And dozes dreamily,<br>And the quaint carved oak reflects the dyes<br>Of the curtain's canopy.<br> <br>The lark has sprung from the new-mown hay,<br>And the plover's note is shrill<br>And the song of the mavis far away<br>Comes from the distant hill ;<br>And in the wide courtyard below<br>She heard the horses neigh,<br>The men-at-arms pass to and fro<br>The scraps of border-lay.<br>She heard each boisterous oath and jest<br>The rough moss-troopers made,<br>Who scoured the rust from spur or crest,<br>Or polished bit or blade.<br>They loved her well, those rugged men,—<br>How could they be so gay<br>When he perchance in some lone glen<br>Lay dying far away ?<br> <br>She was a fearless Border girl,<br>Who from her earliest days<br>Had seen the banners oft unfurl<br>And the war-beacons blaze—<br>Had seen her father's men march out,<br>Roused by the trumpet's call,<br>And heard the foeman's savage shout<br>Close to their fortress wall.<br>And when her kin were arming fast,<br>Had belted many a brand—<br>Why was her spirit now o'ercast ?<br>Where was her self-command ?<br>She strove to quell those childish fears,<br>Unworthy of her name ;<br>She dashed away the rising tears,<br>And, flushed with pride and shame,<br>She rose and hurried down the stair,<br>The castle yard to roam ;<br>And she met her elder sister there,<br>Come from their father's home,<br>'Sister, I've ridden here alone,<br>Your lord and you to greet.'<br>'Sister, to Yarrow he has gone<br>Our brother there to meet ;<br>I dreamt last night of a stubborn fray<br>Where I saw him fall and bleed,<br>And he rode away at break of day<br>With his broadsword and his steed.'<br>'Oh ! sister dear, there will be strife :<br>Our brother likes him ill,<br>And one or both must forfeit life<br>On Yarrow's lonely hill.'<br> <br>A stout moss-trooper, standing near,<br>Spoke with a careless smile :<br>'Now, have no fear for my master dear,—<br>He may travel many a mile,<br>And those who ride on the Border side,<br>Albeit they like him not,<br>They know his mettle has oft been tried<br>Where blows were thick and hot.<br>He left command that none should go<br>From hence till home he came ;<br>But, lady, the truth you soon shall know<br>If you will bear the blame.<br>Your palfrey fair I'll saddle with care,<br>Your sister shall ride the grey,<br>And I'll mount myself on the sorrel mare,<br>And to Yarrow we'll haste away.'<br> <br>The sun was low in the western sky,<br>And steep was the mountain track,<br>But they rode from the castle rapidly—<br>Oh ! how will they travel back ?<br> <br> <br>PLATE IV<br>Gaudia certaminis<br> <br>He came to the spot where his foe had agreed<br>To meet him in Yarrow's dark glade,<br>And there he drew rein amd dismounted his steed,<br>And fastened him under the shade.<br> <br>Close by in the greenwood the ambush was set,<br>And scarce had he entered the glen<br>When, armed for the combat, the brother he met,<br>And with him were eight of his men.<br> <br>'Now, swear to relinquish all claim to our land,<br>Or to give as a hostage your bride !<br>Or fly if you're able, or yield where you stand,<br>Or die as your betters have died !'<br> <br>His doublet and hat on the greensward he threw,<br>He wrapt round the left arm his cloak ;<br>And out of its scabbard his broadsword he drew,<br>And stood with his back to an oak.<br> <br>'My claim to your land I refuse to deny,<br>Nor will I restore you my bride,<br>Now will I surrender, nor yet will I fly :<br>Come on, and the steel shall decide !'<br> <br>Oh ! sudden and sure were the blows that he dealt !<br>Like lightning the sweep of his blade !<br>Cut and thrust, point and edge, all around him they fell,<br>They fell one by one in the glade !<br> <br>And pierced in the gullet their leader goes down !<br>And sinks with a curse on the plain ;<br>And his squire falls dead ! cut through headpiece and crown !<br>And his groom by a back stroke is slain.<br> <br>Now five are stretched lifeless ; disabled are three !<br>Hard pressed, see the last caitiff reel !<br>The brother behind struggles up on one knee,<br>And drives through his body the steel.<br> <br> <br>PLATE V<br>Non habeo mihi facta adhuc cur Herculis uxor<br>Credar coniugii mors mihi pignus erit.<br> <br>The traitor's father heard the tale,<br>In haste he mounted then,<br>And spurred his horse from Ettrick Vale<br>To Yarrow's lonely glen,<br>Some troopers followed in his track—<br>For them he tarried not,<br>He neither halted nor looked back<br>Until he found the spot.<br> <br>The earth was trod and trampled bare,<br>And stained with dark red dew,<br>A broken blade lay here, and there<br>A bonnet cut in two ;<br>And stretched in ghastly shapes around<br>The lifeless corpses lie,<br>Some with their faces to the ground,<br>And some towards the sky.<br>And there the ancient Border chief<br>Stood silent and alone—<br>Too stubborn to give way to grief,<br>Too stern remorse to own.<br>A soldier in the midst of strife<br>Since he had first drawn breath,<br>He'd grown to undervalue life<br>And feel at home with death.<br>And yet he shuddered when he saw<br>The work that had been done ;<br>He knew his fearless son-in-law,<br>He knew his dastard son.<br>Despite the failings of his race<br>A brave old man was he,<br>Who would not stoop to actions base,<br>And hated treachery.<br>He loved his younger daughter well,<br>And though severe and rude,<br>For her sake he had tried to quell<br>That foolish Border feud.<br>Her brother all his schemes had marred,<br>And given his pledge the lie,<br>And sense of justice struggled hard<br>With nature's stronger tie.<br>He knew his son had richly earned<br>The stroke that laid him low,<br>Yet had not quite forgiveness learned<br>For him that dealt the blow.<br> <br>There came a tramp of horses' feet :<br>He raised his startled eyes,<br>And felt his pulses throb and beat<br>With sorrow and surprise.<br>He saw his daughter riding fast,<br>And from her steed she sprung,<br>And on her lover's corpse she cast<br>Herself, and round him clung.<br>Her head she pillowed on his waist,<br>And all her clustering hair<br>Hung down, disordered by her haste<br>In silken masses there.<br>Her sister and their sturdy guide<br>Dismounted and drew nigh,<br>The elder daughter stood aside—<br>Her tears fell silently.<br>The stout moss-trooper glanced around<br>But not a word he said ;<br>He knelt upon the battered ground<br>And raised his master's head.<br>The face had set serene and sad,<br>Nor was there on the clay<br>The stamp of that fierce soul which had<br>In anger passed away.<br> <br>With dagger blade he ripped the skirt,<br>The fatal wound to show,<br>And wiped the stains of blood and dirt<br>From throat and cheek and brow.<br>And all the while she did not stir,<br>She lay there calm and still,<br>Nor could he hope to comfort her,—<br>Her case was past his skill.<br>The father first that silence broke ;<br>His voice was firm and clear,<br>And every accent that he spoke<br>Fell on the listener's ear.<br>'Daughter, this quarrel to forgo,<br>I offered half our land<br>A dower to him—a feudal foe—<br>When first he sought your hand.<br>I only asked for some brief while,<br>Some few short weeks' delay,<br>Till I my son could reconcile ;<br>For this he would not stay.<br>He was your husband, so I'm told ;<br>But you yourself must own<br>He took you to his fortress-hold<br>With your consent alone.<br> <br>Of late the strife broke out anew ;<br>They blame your brother there ;<br>But he was hot and headstrong, too—<br>He doubtless did his share.<br>Oh ! stout of heart, and strong of hand,<br>With all his faults was he,<br>The champion of his Border land ;<br>I ne'er his judge will be !<br>Now, grieve no more for what is done ;<br>Alike we share the cost ;<br>For, girl, I too have lost a son,<br>If you your love have lost.<br>Forget the deed ! and learn to call<br>A worthier man your lord<br>Than he whose arm has vexed us all ;<br>Here lies his fatal sword.<br>Think, when you seek his guilt to cloak,<br>Whose blood has dyed it red.<br>Who fell beneath its deadly stroke,<br>Whose life is forfeited.'<br>The old man paused, for while he spoke<br>The girl had raised her head.<br> <br>Her silken hair she proudly dashed<br>Back from her crimson face !<br>And in her bright eyes once more flashed<br>The spirit of her race !<br>He beauty made her stand abashed !<br>Her voice rang thro' the place !<br> <br>'Who held the treacherous dagger's hilt<br>When against odds he fought ?<br>My brother's blood was fairly spilt !<br>But his was basely sought !<br>Now, Christ absolve his soul from guilt ;<br>He sinned as he was taught !<br>'His next of kin by blood and birth<br>May claim his house and land !<br>His groom may slack his saddle-girth,<br>Or bid his charger stand !<br>But never a man on God's wide earth<br>Shall touch his darling's hand !'<br> <br>The colour faded from her cheek,<br>Her eyelids drooped and fell,<br>And when again she sought to speak<br>Her accents came so low and weak<br>Her words they scarce could tell.<br>'Oh ! father, all I ask is rest,—<br>Here let me once more lie !'<br>She stretched upon the dead man's breast<br>With one long weary sigh ;<br>And the old man bowed his lofty crest<br>And hid his troubled eye !<br> <br>They called her, but she spoke no more,<br>And when they raised her head<br>She seemed as lovely as before,<br>Though all her bloom had fled ;<br>But they grew pale at that they saw—<br>They knew that she was dead !<br> <br> <br>PLATE VI<br>Dies irae : dies illa<br> <br>The requiem breaks the midnight air, the funeral bell they toll,—<br>A mass or prayer we well may spare, for a brave moss-trooper's soul ;<br>And the fairest bride on the Border side, may she too be forgiven !<br>The dirge we ring, the chant we sing, the rest we leave to Heaven !</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339876" data-title="The Feud: A Border Ballad de Adam Lindsay Gordon" data-description="PLATE I Rixa super mero They sat by their wine in the tavern that night, But not in good fellowship true : The Rhenish was strong and the Burgundy bright, And hotter the argument grew. 'I asked your consent when I first sought her hand, Nor di..."></div> </div> </div>

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