William of Deloraine was one of the most desperate Moss-troopers ever engaged in Border warfare, but he, according to Sir Walter Scott: 

By wily turns, by desperate bounds,
Had baffled Percy’s best blood-hounds;
In Eske or Liddel, fords were none,
But he would ride them, one by one;

* * * * *

Steady of heart, and stout of hand. 
As ever drove prey from Cumberland;
Five times outlawed had he been,
By England’s King, and Scotland’s Queen.

When Sir Michael Scott was buried in Melrose Abbey his Mystic Book—­which no one was ever to see except the Chief of Branxholm, and then only in the time of need—­was buried with him.  Branxholm Tower was about eighteen miles from Melrose and situated in the vale of Cheviot.  After the death of Lord Walter (who had been killed in the Border warfare), a gathering of the kinsmen of the great Buccleuch was held there, and the “Ladye Margaret” left the company, retiring laden with sorrow and her impending troubles to her bower.  It was a fine moonlight night when—­

  From amid the armed train
  She called to her, William of Deloraine.

and sent him for the mighty book to Melrose Abbey which was to relieve her of all her troubles.

  “Sir William of Deloraine, good at need,
  Mount thee on the wightest steed;
  Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride. 
  Until thou come to fair Tweedside;
  And in Melrose’s holy pile
  Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary’s aisle. 
    Greet the Father well from me;
      Say that the fated hour is come,
    And to-night he shall watch with thee,
      To win the treasure of the tomb: 
  For this will be St. Michael’s night,
  And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright;
  And the Cross, of bloody red,
  Will point to the grave of the mighty dead.

* * * * *

“What he gives thee, see thou keep;
Stay not thou for food or sleep: 
Be it scroll, or be it book,
Into it, Knight, thou must not look;
If thou readest, thou art lorn! 
Better had’st thou ne’er been born.”—­

* * * * *

“O swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed,
Which drinks of the Teviot clear;
Ere break of day,” the Warrior ’gan say,
“Again will I be here: 
And safer by none may thy errand be done,
Than, noble dame, by me;
Letter nor line know I never a one,
Wer’t my neck-verse at Hairibee.”

Deloraine lost no time in carrying out his Ladye’s wishes, and rode furiously on his horse to Melrose Abbey in order to be there by midnight, and as described in Sir Walter Scott’s “Lay of the Last Minstrel”: