V. Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race, Of different language, form, and face, A various race of man; Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed, And wild and garish semblance made, The chequered trews, and belted plaid, And varying notes the war-pipes brayed, To every varying clan; Wild through their red or sable hair Looked out their eyes, with savage stare, On Marmion as he past; Their legs above the knee were bare; Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, And hardened to the blast; Of taller race, the chiefs they own The hunted red-deer's undressed hide The graceful bonnet decked their head; Back from their shoulders hung the plaid; A broad-sword of unwieldy length, A dagger proved for edge and strength, And quivers, bows, and shafts,-but, O! Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, To that which England bore. The Isles-men carried at their backs The ancient Danish battle-axe. They raised a wild and wondering cry, As with his guide rode Marmion by. The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, And, with their cries discordant mixed, Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwixt. VI. Thus through the Scottish camp they passed, And reached the City gate at last, Where all around, a wakeful guard, Armed burghers kept their watch and ward. Well had they cause of jealous fear, When lay encamped, in field so near, As through the bustling streets they go, The armourer's anvil clashed and rang; Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel Or axe or faulchion to the side Of jarring grind-stone was applied. Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace, Through street, and lane, and market-place, Bore lance, or casque, or sword; While burghers, with important face, Discussed his lineage, told his name, The Lion led to lodging meet, Which high o'erlooked the crowded street; VOL. II. Following-Feudal Retainers. F There must the Baron rest, Till past the hour of vesper tide, Such was the King's behest. Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns A banquet rich, and costly wines, To Marmion and his train; And when the appointed hour succeeds, The palace-halls they gain. VII. Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, That night, with wassel, mirth, and glee: King James within her princely bower For he had charged, that his array The banquet and the song, By day the tourney, and by night The merry dance, traced fast and light, The masquers quaint, the pageant bright, The revel loud and long. This feast outshone his banquets past; It was his blithest,-and his last. The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, Here to the harp did minstrels sing; Courted the ladies of their heart, Nor courted them in vain ; For often, in the parting hour, Victorious Love asserts his power |