Would Clara on her palfrey place,
And whisper'd in an under tone,
"Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.”—
The train from out the castle drew,'
But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu :-—-
"Though something I might plain," he said,
"Of cold respect to stranger guest,
Sent hither by your King's behest,

While in Tantallon's towers I staid;
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand."-
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :—
"My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still
Be open, at my Sovereign's will,
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.2
My castles are my King's alone,
From turret to foundation stone-
The hand of Douglas is his own;
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion clasp."—

XIV.

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,

And-"This to me !" he said,—
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer,
He, who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near
(Nay, never look upon your lord,

And lay your hands upon your sword),
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!
And if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near

Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"—ɔ
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:

Fierce he broke forth,-" And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no?
Up drawbridge, grooms-what, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall."—

1 MS.-"The train the portal arch pass'd through."
MS.-" Unmeet they be to harbor here."
MS.-"False Douglas, thou hast lied."
See Appendix, Note 4 M.

Lord Marmion turn'd-well was his need,
And dash'd the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung,
The ponderous grate behind him rung:
To
pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.

XV.

The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim:

And when Lord Marmion reach'd his band,
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
"Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried,
" and

chase!"

But soon he rein'd his fury's pace:
"A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name,—
A letter forged! Saint Jude to speed!
Did ever knight so foul a deed!"

At first in heart it liked me ill,
When the King praised his clerkly skill.
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine,
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:
So swore I, and I swear it still,
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.-
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood,
I thought to slay him where he stood.
"Tis pity of him too," he cried:
"Bold can he speak, and fairly ride,
I warrant him a warrior tried."
With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.

XVI.

The day in Marmion's journey wore; Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er, They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor His troop more closely there he scann'd, And miss'd the Palmer from the band."Palmer or not," young Blount did say, "He parted at the peep of day; Good sooth, it was in strange array.""In what array?" said Marmion, quick. "My Lord, I ill can spell the trick; But all night long, with clink and bang, Close to my couch did hammers clang; At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, And from a loop-hole while I peep,

See Appendix, Note 4 N.

• MS.-"Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine
Could never pen a written line,
So swear I, and I swear it still,
Let brother Gawain fret his fill "

Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep,
Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
A rusty shirt of mail I spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would befall.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed;
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt in his paces, cool and bold.

I heard the Sheriff Sholto say,
The Earl did much the Master' pray
To use him on the battle-day;
But he preferr'd"-" Nay, Henry, cease!
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace.-
Eustace, thou bear'st a brain-I pray,
What did Blount see at break of day ?”—

XVII.

"In brief, my lord, we both descried
(For then I stood by Henry's side)
The Palmer mount, and outwards ride,
Upon the Earl's own favorite steed:
All sheathed he was in armor bright,
And much resembled that same knight,
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight:
Lord Angus wish'd him speed."-
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke,
A sudden light on Marmion broke ;-
"Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!"
He mutter'd; "'twas nor fay nor ghost
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.-
O dotage blind and 8. ns!

;

Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust,
My path no more to cross.-
How stand we now?-he told his tale
To Douglas; and with some avail;

'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow.— Will Surrey dare to entertain,

'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain? Small risk of that, I trow.

Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun;
Must separate Constance from the Nun-
O, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!
A Palmer too!-no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye:

I might have known there was but one,
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion."

His eldest son, the Master of Angus.

* See Appendix, Note 4 0.

3" From this period to the conclusion of the poem, Mr. Scott's genius, so long overclouded, bursts forth in full lustre,

XVIII.

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed
His troop, and reach'd, at eve, the Tweed,
Where Lennel's convent" closed their march
(There now is left but one frail arch,

Yet mourn thou not its cells;
Our time a fair exchange has made;
Hard by, in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells,

Well worth the whole Bernardine brood,
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.)
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there
Give Marmion entertainment fair,
And lodging for his train and Clare.3
Next morn the Baron climb'd the tower,
To view afar the Scottish power,

Encamp'd on Flodden edge;
The white pavilions made a show,
Like remnants of the winter snow,

Along the dusky ridge.

Long Marmion look'd:-at length his eye
Unusual movement might descry

Amid the shifting lines:

The Scottish host drawn out appears,
For, flashing on the hedge of spears

The eastern sunbeam shines.
Their front now deepening, now extending;
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending,
Now drawing back, and now descending,
The skilful Marmion well could know,
They watch'd the motions of some foe,
Who traversed on the plain below.

XIX.

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge
The Scots beheld the English host
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post,
And heedful watch'd them as they cross'd
The Till by Twisel Bridge.

High sight it is, and haughty, while
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the cavern'd cliff they fall,
Beneath the castle's airy wall.

By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree,
Troop after troop are disappearing;
Troop after troop their banners rearing,
Upon the eastern bank you see.
Still pouring down the rocky den,

Where flows the sullen Till,
And rising from the dim-wood glen,
Standards on standards, men on men,
In slow succession still,

And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch,
And pressing on, in ceaseless march,

and even transcends itself. It is impossible to do him justice by making extracts, when all is equally attractive.”—Monthig Review.

4 See Appendix, Note 4 P.

And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile?
What checks the fiery soul of James ?
Why sits that champion of the dames
Inactive on his steed,

And sees between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed's southern strand,
His host Lord Surrey lead?
What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand!
-O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!
O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight,
And cry-"Saint Andrew and our right!"
Another sight had seen that morn,
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn,
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne !
The precious hour has pass'd in vain,
And England's host has gain'd the plain;
Wheeling their march, and circling still,
Around the base of Flodden hill.

XXI.

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye,1
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,
"Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!
And see ascending squadrons come

Between Tweed's river and the hill, Foot, horse, and cannon:-hap what hap, My basnet to a prentice cap,

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till!Yet more! yet more !-how far array'a They file from out the hawthorr shade, And sweep so gallant by !" With all their banners bravely spread, And all their armor flashing high, Saint George might waken from the dead,

1 MS.-"Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye." 2 MS." And all go sweeping by."

3" The speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal too unpolished for a noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On two occasions, to specify no more, he addresses his brother squire In these cacophonous lines,

St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day with bonnet in thy hand;'

Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu;
Far less would listen to his prayer,
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And mutter'd as the flood they view,
"The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw:
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,

So Clare shall bide with me."
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep,*
He ventured desperately:

And not a moment will he bide,
Till squire, or groom, before him ride
Headmost of all he stems the tide,

And stems it gallantly.
Eustace held Clare upon her horse,

Old Huber led her rein,

Stoutly they braved the current's course, And, though far downward driven per force,

The southern bank they gain; Behind them straggling came to shore,

As best they might, the train:
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,
A caution not in vain:

Deep need that day that every string,
By wet unharm'd, should sharply ring.
A moment then Lord Marmion stay'd,
And breathed his steed, his men array'd,

Then forward moved his band,
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won,
He halted by a Cross of Stone,
That, on a hillock standing lone,
Did all the field command.

And,

'Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, thou'dst best,
And listen to our lord's behest.'

Neither can we be brought to admire the simple dignity of Sa
Hugh the Heron, who thus encourageth his nephew,-
By my fay,

Well hast thou spoke-say forth thy say.'"-JEFFREY. 4 MS." Where to the Tweed Leat's tributes creep"

XXIII.

Hence might they see the full array
Of either host, for deadly fray;'

Their marshall'd lines stretch'd east and west,"
And fronted north and south,
And distant salutation pass'd

From the loud cannon mouth;
Not in the close successive rattle,

That breathes the voice of modern battle,

But slow and far between.-
The hillock gain'd, Lord Marmion staid:
'Here, by this Cross," he gently said,
You well may view the scene.
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:
O! think of Marmion in thy prayer!
Thou wilt not?-well,-no less my care
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.—
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten pick'd archers of my train;
With England if the day go hard,

To Berwick speed amain.--
But if we conquer, cruel maid,
My spoils shall at your feet be laid,

When here we meet again."
He waited not for answer there,
And would not mark the maid's despair,'
Nor heed the discontented look
From either squire; but spurr'd amain,
And, dashing through the battle plain,
His way to Surrey took.

XXIV.

The good Lord Marmion, by my life! Welcome to danger's hour!— Short greeting serves in time of strife :

Thus have I ranged my power: Myself will rule this central host,

Stout Stanley fronts their right, My sons command the vaward post, With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, Shall be in rear-ward of the fight, And succor those that need it most. Now, gallant Marmion, well I know, Would gladly to the vanguard go! Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, With thee their charge will blithely share; There fight thine own retainers too, Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”"Thanks, noble Surrey !" Marmion said, Nor farther greeting there he paid;

But, parting like a thunderbolt,
First in the vanguard made a halt,
Where such a shout there rose
Of" Marmion! Marmion!" that the cry
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high,
Startled the Scottish foes.

XXV.

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still
With Lady Clare upon the hill!
On which (for far the day was spent)
The western sunbeams now were bent.
The cry they heard, its meaning knew,
Could plain their distant comrades view:
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,

"Unworthy office here to stay!
No hope of gilded spurs to-day.-
But see! look up-on Flodden bent
The Scottish foe has fired his tent."
And sudden, as he spoke,
From the sharp ridges of the hill,"
All downward to the banks of Till
Was wreathed in sable smoke.
Volumed and fast, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,
As down the hill they broke
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,
Announced their march; their tread alone
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum,

Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.--
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,
Until at weapon-point they close.—*
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust;
And such a yell was there,
Of sudden and portentous birth,
As if men fought upon the earth,

And fiends in upper air;*

O life and death were in the shout,
Recoil and rally, charge and rout,
And triumph and despair.
Long look'd the anxious squires; their eye
Could in the darkness naught descry.

XXVI.

At length the freshening western blast
Aside the shroud of battle cast;
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears
Above the brightening cloud appears;

the days of Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation,for breadth of drawing and magnificence of effect,-with thi of Mr. Scott's."-JEFFREY.

7 This couplet is not in the MS.

The next three lines are not in the MS.

MS." And first the broken ridge of spears'

And in the smoke the pennons flew,
As in the storm the white sea-mew.
Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war,
And plumed crests of chieftains brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave;

But naught distinct they see:
Wide raged the battle on the plain;
Spears shook, and falchions flash'd amain;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain;
Crests rose, and stoop'd, and rose again,
Wild and disorderly.

Amid the scene of tumult, high
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly:
And stainless Tunstall's banner white,
And Edmund Howard's lion bright,
Still bear them bravely in the fight:
Although against them come,
Of gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man,1
And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntly, and with Home.

XXVII.

Far on the left, unseen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle;
Though there the western mountaineer
Rush'd with bare bosom on the spear,
And flung the feeble targe aside,
And with both hands the broadsword plied.
'Twas vain:-But Fortune, on the right,
With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight.
Then fell that spotless banner white,3

The Howard's lion fell;

Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew
Around the battle-yell.

The Border slogan rent the sky!

A Home! a Gordon! was the cry:
Loud were the clanging blows;
Advanced,-forced back,-now low, now high,
The pennon sunk and rose;

As bends the bark's mast in the gale,
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail,
It waver'd 'mid the foes.

No longer Blount the view could bear:
"By Heaven, and all its saints! I swear
I will not see it lost!
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare'
May bid your beads and patter prayer,—

1 In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the corection of the Author's interleaved copy of the edition of 1830. 2 MS.-"Though there the dauntless mountaineer." MS.-"Fell stainless Tunstall's banner white,

Sir Edmund's lion fell."

MS.-"Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare May for its safety join in prayer."

I gallop to the host."
And to the fray he rode amain,
Follow'd by all the archer train.
The fiery youth, with desperate charge,
Made, for a space, an opening large,—
The rescued banner rose,-

But darkly closed the war around,
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground,
It sunk among the foes.
Then Eustace mounted too:-yet staid
As loath to leave the helpless maid,
When, fast as shaft can fly,
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,

Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by; And Eustace, maddening at the sight, A look and sign to Clara cast

To mark he would return in haste, Then plunged into the fight.

XXVIII.

Ask me not what the maiden feels,
Left in that dreadful hour alone:
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels;
Perchance a courage, not her own,
Braces her mind to desperate tone.—
The scatter'd van of England wheels;-
She only said, as loud in air

The tumult roar'd, "Is Wilton there ?"— They fly, or, madden'd by despair, Fight but to die,-" Is Wilton there?" With that, straight up the hill there rode Two horsemen drench'd with gore, And in their arms, a helpless load,

A wounded knight they bore.

His hand still strain'd the broken brand;
His arms were smear'd with blood and sand:
Dragg'd from among the horses' feet,
With dinted shield, and helmet beat,
The falcon-crest and plumage gone,
Can that be haughty Marmion!..
Young Blount his armor did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghastly face,

Said-" By Saint George, he's gone!
That spear-wound has our master sped,
And see the deep cut on his head!
Good-night to Marmion.”—
"Unnurtur'd Blount! thy brawling cease:
He opes his eyes," said Eustace; "peace!"