With all her nuns and Clare.
No audience had Lord Marmion sought;
Ever he fear'd to aggravate
Clara de Clare's suspicious hate;
And safer 'twas, he thought,
Tc wait till, from the nuns removed,
The influence of kinsmen loved,
And suit by Henry's self approved,
Her slow consent had wrought.
His was no flickering flame, that dies
Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs,
And lighted oft at lady's eyes;
He long'd to stretch his wide command
O'er luckless Clara's ample land:
Besides, when Wilton with him vied,
Although the pang of humbled pride
The place of jealousy supplied,
Yet conquest by that meanness won
He almost loath'd to think upon,
Led him, at times, to hate the cause,
Which made him burst through honor's laws.
If e'er he lov'd, 'twas her alone,
Who died within that vault of stone.
And now, when close at hand they saw
North Berwick's town, and lofty Law,'
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while,
Before a venerable pile,2
Whose turrets view'd, afar,
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle,'
The ocean's peace or war.
At tolling of a bell, forth came
The convent's venerable Dame,
And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest
With her, a loved and honor'd guest,
Till Douglas should a bark prepare
To waft her back to Whitby fair.
Glad was the Abbess, you may guess,
And thank'd the Scottish Prioress.
And tedious were to tell, I ween,
The courteous speech that pass'd between.
O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave;
But when fair Clara did intend,
Like them, from horseback to descend,
Fitz-Eustace said,-" I grieve,
Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart,
Such gentle company to part;-
Think not discourtesy,
But lords' commands must be obey'd;
And Marmion and the Douglas said,
That you must wend with me.
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad,
Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd,
MS. "North Berwick's town, and conic Law."
The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns,
Commanding, that, beneath his care,
Without delay, you shall repair
To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare."
The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd; But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,-She deem'd she heard her death-dcom read. "Cheer thee, my child!" the Abbess said, "They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band."
"Nay, holy mother, nay,"
Fitz-Eustace said, "the lovely Clare
Will be in Lady Angus' care,
In Scotland while we stay;
And, when we move, an easy ride
Will bring us to the English side,
Female attendance to provide
Befitting Gloster's heir:
Nor thinks nor dreams my noble lord,
By slightest look, or act, or word,
To harass Lady Clare.
Her faithful guardian he will be,
Nor sue for slightest courtesy
That e'en to stranger falls,
Till he shall place her, safe and free,
Within her kinsman's halls."
He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace;
His faith was painted on his face,
And Clare's worst fear relieved.
The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed,
Entreated, threaten'd, grieved;
To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd,
Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd,
And call'd the Prioress to aid,
To curse with candle, bell, and book.
Her head the grave Cistertian shook:
"The Douglas, and the King," she said,
"In their commands will be obey'd;
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall
The maiden in Tantallon hall."
The Abbess, seeing strife was vain,
Assumed her wonted state again,-
For much of state she had,-
Composed her veil, and raised her head,
And-" Bid," in solemn voice she said,
"Thy master, bold and bad,
The records of his house turn o'er,
And, when he shall there written see, That one of his own ancestry
near North Berwick, of which there are still some remains. it
was founded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216.
MS. The lofty Bass, the Lamb's green
isla "
Drove the monks forth of Coventry,'
Bid him his fate explore!
Prancing in pride of earthly trust,
His charger hurl'd him to the dust,
And, by a base plebeian thrust,
He died his band before.
God judge 'twixt Marmion and me;
He is a Chief of high degree,
And I a poor recluse:
Yet oft, in holy writ, we see
Even such weak minister as me
May the oppressor bruise:
For thus, inspired, did Judith slay
The mighty in his sin,
And Jael thus, and Deborah”
Here hasty Blount broke in: "Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band: St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, To hear the Lady preach? By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,
Will sharper sermon teach.
Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce."—
"Submit we then to force," said Clare, "But let this barbarous lord despair
His purposed aim to win;
Let him take living, land, and life;
But to be Marmion's wedded wife
In me were deadly sin:
And if it be the King's decree,
That I must find no sanctuary,
In that inviolable dome,"
Where even a homicide might come,
And safely rest his head, Though at its open portals stood, Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood,
The kinsmen of the dead; Yet one asylum is my own Against the dreaded hour;
A low, a silent, and a lone,
Where kings have little power. One victim is before me there.
1 See Appendix, Note 4 B.
2 This line, necessary to the rhyme, is now for the first time restored from the MS. It must have been omitted by an oversight in the original printing.--ED.
3 For the origin of Marmion's visit to Tantallon Castle, in the Poem, see Life of Scott, vol. iii. թ. 17.
4. 44 During the regency (subsequent to the death of James V.) the Dowager Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, became desirous of putting a French garrison into Tantallon, as she had into Dunbar and Inchkeith, in order the better to bridle the lords and barons, who inclined to the reformed faith, and to secure by citadels the sea-coast of the Frith of Forth. For this purpose, the Regent, to use the phrase of the time, 'dealed
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer Remember your unhappy Clare!” Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows Kind blessings many a one: Weeping and wailing loud arose,
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes
Of every simple nun.
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.
Then took the squire her rein,
And gently led away her steed,
And, by each courteous word and deed,
To cheer her strove in vain.
But scant three miles the band had rode,
When o'er a height they pass'd,
And, sudden, close before them show'd
His towers, Tantallon vast;
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far,
And held impregnable in war.
On a projecting rock they rose,
And round three sides the ocean flows,
The fourth did battled walls enclose,
And double mound and fosse."
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong,
Through studded gates, an entrance long,
To the main court they cross.
It was a wide and stately square:
Around were lodgings, fit and fair,
And towers of various form,
Which on the court projected far,
And broke its lines quadrangular.
Here was square keep, there turret high,
Or pinnacle that sought the sky,
Whence oft the Warder could descry
The gathering ocean-storm,
Here did they rest.—The princely care
Of Douglas, why should I declare,
Or say they met reception fair?
Or why the tidings say,
Which, varying, to Tantallon came,
By hurrying posts or fleeter fame,
With ever-varying day!
with' the (then) Earl of Angus for his consent to the proposed measure. He occupied himself, while she was speaking, feeding a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only replied by addressing the bird, but leaving the Queen to make the appli cation, The devil is in this greedy gled-she will never be fou.' But when the Queen, without appearing to notice this hint, continued to press her obnoxious request, Angus replied, in the true spirit of a feudal noble, Yes, Madam, the castle is yours: God forbid else. But by the might o. God, Madam!' such was his usual oath, I must be your Captain and Keeper for you, and I will keep it as well as any you can place there.'"'SIR WALTER SCOTT's Miscellaneous Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 436.
And, first they heard King James had won
Etall, and Wark, and Ford; and then,
That Norham Castle strong was ta'en
At that sore marvell'd Marmion;
And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand
Would soon subdue Northumberland:
But whisper'd news there came,
That, while his host inactive lay,
And melted by degrees away,
King James was dallying off the day
With Heron's wily dame.
Such acts to Chronicles I yield;
Go seek them there, and see; Mine is a tale of Flodden Field,
And not a history.—
At length they heard the Scottish host
On that high ridge had made their post,
Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain;
And that brave Surrey many a band
Had gather'd in the Southern land,
And march'd into Northumberland,
And camp at Wooler ta'en.
Marmion, like charger in the stall,
That hears, without, the trumpet-call,
Began to chafe, and swear:-
"A sorry thing to hide my head
In castle, like a fearful maid,
When such a field is near!
Needs must I see this battle-day:
Death to my fame if such a fray
Were fought, and Marmion away!
The Douglas, too, I wot not why,
Hath bated of his courtesy:
No longer in his halls I'll stay."
Then bade his band they should array
For march against the dawning day.
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.
RICHARD HEBER, ESQ.
Mertoun-House, Christmas. HEAP on more wood!-the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still. Each age has deem'd the new-born year The fittest time for festal cheer:
1 Mertoun-House, the seat of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden, beautifully situated on the Tweed, about two miles below Dryburgh Abbey.
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain.2
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;
Then in his low and pine-built hall,
Where shields and axes deck'd the wall;
They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer;
Caroused in seas of sable beer;
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown
The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone:
Or listen'd all, in grim delight,
While Scalds yell'd out the joys of fight.
Then forth, in phrensy, would they hie,
While wildly-loose their red locks fly,
And dancing round the blazing pile,
They make such barbarous mirth the while,
As best might to the mind recall
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall
And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had roll'd,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honor to the holy night;
On Christmas eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas eve the mass was sung:
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear."
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress'd with holy green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the misletoe.
Then open'd wide the Baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony doff'd his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The Lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of "post and pair."
All hail'd, with uncontroll'd delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man;
2 See Appendix, Note 4 C.
Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green garb'd ranger tell,
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.'
The wassel round, in good brown bowls,
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;
Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savory goose.
Then came the merry maskers in,
And carols roar'd, with blithesome din;
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;2
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale;
"Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man's heart through half the year.
Still linger, in our northern clime,
Some remnants of the good old time;
And still, within our valleys here,
We hold the kindred title dear,
Even when, perchance, its far-fetch'd claim
To Southron ear sounds empty name;
For course of blood, our proverbs deem,
Is warmer than the mountain-stream."
And thus, my Christmas still I hold
Where my great-grandsire came of old,
With amber beard, and flaxen hair,^
And reverend apostolic air--
The feast and holy-tide to share,
And mix sobriety with wine,
And honest mirth with thoughts divine:
Small thought was his, in after time
1 MS." And all the hunting of the boar.
Then round the merry wassel-bowl,
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl,
And the large sirloin steam'd on high,
Plum-porridge, hare, and savory pie."
2 See Appendix, Note 4 E.
3"Blood is warmer than water,"-a proverb meant to vinnicate our family predilections.
See Appendix, Note 4 F.
MS.-"In these fair halls, with merry cheer,
Is bid farewell the dying year."
"A lady of noble German descent, born Countess Harriet Bruhl of Martinskirchen, married to H. Scott, Esq. of Harden (now Lord Polwarth), the author's relative and much-valued
E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme.
The simple sire could only boast,
That he was loyal to his cost;
The banish'd race of kings revered,
And lost his land,-but kept his beard.
In these dear halls, where welcome kind Is with fair liberty combined; Where cordial friendship gives the hand, And flies constraint the magic wand Of the fair dame that rules the land. Little we heed the tempest drear, While music, mirth, and social cheer, Speed on their wings the passing year. And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, When not a leaf is on the bough. Tweed loves them well, and turns again, As loath to leave the sweet domain, And holds his mirror to her face, And clips her with a close embrace :Gladly as he, we seek the dome, And as reluctant turn us home.
How just that, at this time of glee,
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee!
For many a merry hour we've known,
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone
Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease,
And leave these classic tomes in peace!
Of Roman and of Grecian lore,
Sure mortal brain can hold no more.
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say,
"Were pretty fellows in their day;"
But time and tide o'er all prevail-
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale-
Of wonder and of war-" Profane!
What! leave the lofty Latian strain,
Her stately prose, her verse's charms,
To hear the clash of rusty arms:
In Fairy Land or Limbo lost,
To jostle conjurer and ghost,
Goblin and witch!"-Nay Heber dear,
Before you touch my char ter, hear:
Though Leyden aids, alas' no more,
My cause with many-languaged lore,
friend almost from infancy."-Erde Minstrelsy, vol. iv.
7 The MS. adds:-"As boasts olo Shallow to Sir John." 8"Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sír-a very pretty fellow in his day."-Old Bachelor.
9 MS.-"With all his many-languaged lore.'
John Leyder M. D., who had been of great service to Sir Walter Scott in the preparation of the Border Minstrelsy, sailed for India in April, 1803, and died at Jaa in Augitst 1811, before completing his 36th year.
"Scenes sung by him who sings no more!
His brief and bright career is o'er,
And mute his tuneful strains;
Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore,
|