"'And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder shall not sound,
And rushes shall be strew'd on the stair:
So by the black-rood stone, and by holy St. John,
I conjure thee, my love, to be there!'

"'Though the blood-hound be mute and the rush beneath my foot,
And the warder his bugle should not blow,
Yet there sleepeth a priest in a chamber to the east,
And my foot-step he would know.'--

"'O fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east,
For to Dryburgh the way he has ta'en,
And there to say mass, till three days do pass,
For the soul of a knight that is slayne.'

"He turn'd him around and grimly he frown'd;
Then he laugh'd right scornfully--
'He who says the mass-rite for the soul of that knight,
May as well say mass for me!

"'At the lone midnight hour, when bad spirits have power,
In thy chamber will I be'--
With that he was gone and my lady left alone,
And no more did I see."

Then changed, I trow, was that bold Baron's brow,
From the dark to the blood-red high;
"Now tell me the mien of the knight thou hast seen,
For, by Mary, he shall die!"--