  While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, My true love has mounted his steed, and away Over hill, over valley, o’er dale, and o’er down,— Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown! He has doff’d the silk doublet the breastplate to bear, He has placed the steel cap o’er his long-flowing hair, From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,— Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown! For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws; Her King is his leader, her Church is his cause; His watchword is honour, his pay is renown,— God strike with the Gallant that strikes for the Crown! They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall; But tell these bold traitors of London’s proud town, That the spears of the North have encircled the Crown. There’s Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes; There’s Erin’s high Ormond, and Scotland’s Montrose! Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown With the Barons of England, that fight for the Crown? Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier! Be his banner unconquer’d, resistless his spear, Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown, In a pledge to fair England, her Church, and her Crown. Sir W. Scott. |
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