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Of that unhallowed morn arose,
When first the Scott and Car were foes;
When royal James beheld the fray,
Prize to the victor of the day;
When Home and Douglas, in the van,
In bitter mood he spurred fast,
And soon the hated heath was past;
Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran:
* Lauds, the midnight service of the Catholic church.
The sound, upon the fitful gale,
In solemn wise did rise and fail,
Like that wild harp, whose magic tone
Is wakened by the winds alone.
But when Melrose he reached, 'twas silence all;
He meetly stabled his steed in stall,
And sought the convent's lonely wall.
HERE paused the harp; and with its swell
And, gazing timid on the crowd,
The Duchess, and her daughters fair,
And every gentle ladye there,
Each after each, in due degree,
Gave praises to his melody;
His hand was true, his voice was clear, And much they longed the rest to hear. Encouraged thus, the Aged Man,
After meet rest, again began.