III.

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost

Had reckoned with their Scottish host;

And, as the charge he cast and paid,

"Ill thou deserv'st thy hire," he said;

"Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight?

Fairies have ridden him all the night,

And left him in a foam !

I trust, that soon a conjuring band,
With English cross and blazing brand,

Shall drive the devils from this land,

To their infernal home:

For in this haunted den, I trow,

All night they trampled to and fro."-
The laughing host looked on the hire,-
"Gramercy, gentle southern squire,
And if thou com'st among the rest,
With Scottish broad sword to be blest,
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow,
And short the pang to undergo."-

Here stayed their talk,-for Marmion

Gave now the signal to set on.

The Palmer shewing forth the way,

They journeyed all the morning day.

IV.

The green-sward way was smooth and good,

Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood;

A forest glade, which, varying still,
Here gave a view of dale and hill;
There narrower closed, till over head
A vaulted screen the branches made.
"A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said;
"Such as where errant knights might see

Adventures of high chivalry ;

Might meet some damsel flying fast,

With hair unbound, and looks aghast;

And smooth and level course were here,

In her defence to break a spear.

Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells;

And oft, in such, the story tells,

The damsel kind, from danger freed,

Did grateful pay her champion's meed."

He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind;

Perchance to shew his lore designed;

For Eustace much had pored

Upon a huge romantic tome,

In the hall-window of his home,

Imprinted at the antique dome

Of Caxton or De Worde.

Therefore he spoke,—but spoke in vain,

For Marmion answered nought again.

V.

Now sudden distant trumpets shrill,

In notes prolonged by wood and hill,

Were heard to echo far;

Each ready archer grasped his bow,
But by the flourish soon they know,

They breathed no point of war.

Yet cautious, as in foeman's land,

Lord Marmion's order speeds the band,

Some opener ground to gain;

And scarce a furlong had they rode,

When thinner trees, receding, shewed

A little woodland plain.

Just in that advantageous glade,

The halting troop a line had made,

As forth from the opposing shade

Issued a gallant train.

VI.

First came the trumpets, at whose clang

So late the forest echoes rang;

On prancing steeds they forward pressed,

With scarlet mantle, azure vest ;

Each at his trump a banner wore,

Which Scotland's royal scutcheon bore:

Heralds and pursuivants, by name

Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came,

In painted tabards, proudly showing

Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing,

Attendant on a King-at-arms,

Whose hand the armorial truncheon held,

That feudal strife had often quelled,

When wildest its alarms.

VII.

He was a man of middle age;

In aspect manly, grave, and sage,
As on king's errand come;
But in the glances of his eye,
A penetrating, keen, and sly

Expression found its home;

The flash of that satiric rage,
Which, bursting on the early stage,

Branded the vices of the age,

And broke the keys of Rome.

On milk-white palfrey forth he paced;

His

cap

of maintenance was graced

With the proud heron-plume.