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Yet, rest thee God! for well I know,
I ne'er shall find a nobler foe!
In all the northern counties here,
Whose word is, Snafle, spur, and spear[1],
Thou wert the best to follow gear;
'Twas pleasure, as we looked behind,
To see how thou the chace couldst wind,
Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way,
And with the bugle rouse the fray!
I'd give the lands of Deloraine,
Dark Musgrave were alive again."—

XXX.
So mourned he, till Lord Dacre's band
Were bowning back to Cumberland.
They raised brave Musgrave from the field,
And laid him on his bloody shield;

  1. The lands that over Ouse to Berwick forth do bear,
    Have for their blazon had, the snafle, spur, and spear.
    Poly-albion, Song xxxiii.