Читать книгу Story-Telling Ballads - Various - Страница 10

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The reavers of Eskdale were mounted for weir,

And Annandale moss-troopers grasped the spear;

And the blades that they bore in the sun glittered bright;

And breast-plate and helmet reflected the light.

They spurred the fleet charger thro’ bog and thro’ brake;

To the yell of their slogan the echoes awake;

The Johnstones and Jardines cry, “Lads, we’ll away,

And we’ll foray the pastures of Fair Galloway!”

The men were determined—their steeds they were strong,

And eager for plunder they pranced along;

The clang of their weapons rung loud on the dale,

And their helmet-plumes waving aloft an the gale.

Beholdst thou the beacon-light gleaming afar,

On misty Glenbennan, the signal of war?

Bengairn and Caerlochan their blazes display,

And they warn the bold spearmen of Fair Galloway.

But the damsels of Esk and of Annan may mourn,

And in vain may they look for their lovers’ return;

On the green dale of Dryburgh they rest in their grave,

And o’er them the hemlock and rank nettles wave.

And few have escaped from the Galloway spear,

That followed the flying and glanced in their rear,

And the moss-troopers’ widows are ruing the day

Their husbands departed for Fair Galloway.

(Condensed)