Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square,
Scroll, pennon, pencil, bandrol,' there
O'er the pavilions flew.2

Highest, and midmost, was descried

The royal banner floating wide;

The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight,

Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone,

Which still in memory is shown,

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight

1 Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of those entitled to display them.

2 I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in 1513, but Patten gives a curious description of that which he saw after the battle of Pinkey, in 1547:-" Here now, to say somewhat of the manner of their camp: As they had no pavilions, or round houses, of any commendable compass, so wear there few other tentes with posts, as the used manner of making is; and of these few also, none of above twenty foot length, but most far under; for the most part all very sumptuously beset, (after their fashion,) for the love of France, with Fleur-de-lys, some of blue buckeram, some of black, and some of some other colours. These white ridges, as I call them, that, as we stood on Fauxsyde Bray, did make so great muster toward us, which I did take then to be a number of tentes, when we came, we found it a linen drapery, of the coarser cambryk in dede, for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles, or rather cabyns and couches of their soldiers; the which, (much after the common building of their country beside) had they framed of four sticks, about an ell long a-piece, whearof two fastened together at one end aloft, and the two endes beneath stuck in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like the bowes of a sowes yoke; over two such bowes (one, as it were, at their head, the other at their feet,) they stretched a sheet down on both sides, whereby their cabin became roofed like a ridge, but skant shut at both ends, and not very close beneath on the sides, unless their sticks were the shorter, or their wives the more liberal to lend them larger napery; howbeit, when they had lined them, and stuff'd them so thick with straw, with the weather as it was not very cold, when they wear ones couched, they were as warm as they had been wrapt in horses dung."—Patten's Account of Somerset's Expedition.

Whene'er the western wind unroll'd,

With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold,
And gave to view the dazzling field,
Where in proud Scotland's royal shield,
The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold.1

XXIX.

Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright.-
He view'd it with a chief's delight,-

Until within him burn'd his heart,
And lightning from his eye did part,
As on the battle day;

Such glance did falcon never dart,
When stooping on his prey.

"Oh! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said,
Thy King from warfare to dissuade

Were but a vain essay:

For, by St. George, were that host mine,

Not power infernal, nor divine,

Should once to peace my soul incline,

Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine

In glorious battle-fray!"

The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe Boethius and Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, mentioned, p. 199, counter fleur-de-lysed, or lingued and armed azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King of Scotland, contemporary of Charlemagne, and founder of the celebrated League with France; but later antiquaries make poor Eochy, or Achy, little better than a sort of King of Brentford, whom old Grig (who has also swelled into Gregorius Magnus) associated with himself in the important duty of governing some part of the north-eastern coast of Scotland.

Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood:

"Fair is the sight, and yet 't were good,

That Kings would think withal,

When peace and wealth their land has bless'd, 'Tis better to sit still at rest,

Than rise, perchance to fall."

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd,
For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd,
When sated with the martial show
That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er it go,
And mark the distant city glow
With gloomy splendour red;

For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow,
That round her sable turrets flow,

The morning beams were shed,

And tinged them with a lustre proud,
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.

Such dusky grandeur clothed the height,
Where the huge Castle holds its state,

And all the steep slope down,
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massy, close and high,
Mine own romantic town!

But northward far, with purer blaze,
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,
And as each heathy top they kiss'd,
It gleam'd a purple amethyst.
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw;
Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law;
And, broad between them roll'd,
The gallant Frith the eye might note,
Whose islands on its bosom float,
Like emeralds chased in gold.
Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent;
As if to give his rapture vent,
The spur he to his charger lent,

And raised his bridle hand,

And making demi-volte in air,

Cried, "Where's the coward that would not dare

To fight for such a land!”

The Lindesay smiled his joy to see;

Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee.

ΧΧΧΙ.

Thus while they look'd, a flourish proud,
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud,
And fife, and kettle-drum,

And sackbut deep, and psaltery,

And war-pipe with discordant cry,
And cymbal clattering to the sky,
Making wild music bold and high,
Did up the mountain come;

The whilst the bells with distant chime,
Merrily toll'd the hour of prime,

And thus the Lindesay spoke;

"Thus clamour still the war-notes when The King to mass his way has ta'en, Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,

Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.

To you they speak of martial fame;
But me remind of peaceful game,
When blither was their cheer,
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare,
But strive which foremost might repair

To the downfall of the deer.

XXXII.

"Nor less," he said," when looking forth,

I view yon Empress of the North

Sit on her hilly throne;

Her palace's imperial bowers,

Her castle proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls and holy towers—

Nor less," he said, "I moan,

To think what woe mischance may bring,