And now the PERCY name, fo long

Our northern pride and boast,

Lies hid, alas! beneath a cloud,

Their honours reft and loft.

No chieftain of that noble house
Now leads our youth to arms;
The bordering Scots defpoil our fields,
And ravage all our farms.

Their halls and caftles, once fo fair,

Now moulder in decay;

Proud ftrangers now ufurp their lands,

And bear their wealth away.

Nor far from hence, where

yon

full ftream

Runs winding down the lea,

Fair Warkworth lifts her lofty tow'rs,

And overlooks the fea.

Those towers, alas! now stand forlorn, With noifome weeds o'erfpread,

Where feafted lords and courtly dames, And where the poor were fed.

Meantime far off, mid Scottish hills,
The PERCY lives unknown:

On ftrangers' bounty he depends,
And may not claim his own.

O might I with thefe aged eyes
But live to fee him here,

Then fhould my foul depart in bliss!
He faid, and dropt a tear.

And is the PERCY ftill fo lov'd,
Of all his friends and thee?

Then, bless me, father, faid the youth,
For thy gueft am He.

Silent he gaz'd, then turn'd afide

To wipe the tears he shed;

Then, lifting up his hands and eyes,
Pour'd bleffings on his head :

Welcome, our dear and much-lov'd lord, Thy country's hope and care:

But who may this young lady be

That is fo wondrous fair?

Now, father, listen to my tale,

And thou shalt know the truth;

And let thy fage advice direct
My unexperienc'd youth.

In Scotland I've been nobly bred
Beneath the regent's hand,

In feats of arms, and every lore

To fit me for command.

With fond impatience long I burn'd
My native land to fee:

At length I won my guardian friend

To yield that boon to me.

Then

up and down in hunter's garb

I wander'd as in chase,

Till in the noble NEVILLE's house

I gain'd a hunter's place.

Some time with him I liv'd unknown,

Till I'd the hap fo rare

To please this young and gentle dame, That baron's daughter fair.

Now, PERCY, faid the blufhing maid,

The truth I must reveal:

Souls great and generous, like to thine,

Their noble deeds conceal.

It happen'd on a fummer's day,

Led by the fragrant breeze,
I wander'd forth to take the air,

Among the green-wood trees:

Sudden a band of rugged Scots,
That near in ambush lay,
Mofs-troopers from the border-fide,
There seiz'd me for their prey.

My fhrieks had all been spent in vain,
But Heaven, that faw my grief,

Brought this brave youth within my call,

Who flew to my relief.

With nothing but his hunting spear,

And dagger in his hand,

He fprung like lightning on my foes,
And caus'd them foon to ftand.