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These were the arms that once did turn
The tide of fight on Otterburne,
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield,
When the dead Douglas won the field.
These Angus gave-his armourer's care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,
But ancient armour on the walls,
And aged chargers in the stalls,

And women, priests, and gray-hair'd men;
The rest were all in Twisel glen. '
And now I watch my armour here,
By law of arms, till midnight 's near;
Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light.

X.

«There soon again we meet, my Clare!
This baron means to guide thee there:
Douglas reveres his king's command,
Else would he take thee from his band.
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too,
Will give De Wilton justice due.
Now meeter far for martial broil,
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,

Once more»-« O, Wilton! must we then
Risk new-found happiness again,

Trust fate of arms once more? And is there not a humble glen, Where we, content and poor, Might build a cottage in the shade, A shepherd thou, and I to aid

Thy task on dale and moor?

That reddening brow!-too well I know,
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow,
While falsehood stains thy name:
Go then to fight! Clare bids thee go!
Clare can a warrior's feelings know,

And weep a warrior's shame;
Can red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel,
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel,
And belt thee with thy brand of steel,
And send thee forth to fame!»>-
XI.

That night, upon the rocks and bay,

The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay,
And pour'd its silver light, and pure,
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure,
Upon Tantallon tower and hall;
But chief where arched windows wide
Illuminate the chapel's pride,

The sober glances fall.

Much was there need; though, seam'd with scars,

Two veterans of the Douglas' wars,

Though two gray priests were there,
And each a blazing torch held high,
You could not by their blaze descry
The chapel's carving fair.
Amid that dim and smoky light,
Chequering the silvery moonshine bright,
A bishop by the altar stood, (9)
A noble lord of Douglas' blood,
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white.

1 Where James encamped before taking post at Flodden.

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Then at the altar Wilton kneels,
And Clare the spurs bound on his heels;
And think what next he must have felt,
At buckling of the falchion-belt,

And judge how Clara changed her hue,
While fastening to her lover's side
A friend, which, though in danger tried,
He once had found untrue!

Then Douglas struck him with his blade: "Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, I dub thee knight.

Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir!

For king, for church, for lady fair,

See that thou fight.»

And Bishop Gawain, as he rose,
Said-Wilton! grieve not for thy woes,
Disgrace, and trouble;

For He, who honour best bestows,
May give thee double.»>-

De Wilton sobb'd, for sob he must-
« Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust
That Douglas is my brother!»>-
Nay, nay,» old Angus said, «not so;
To Surrey's camp thou now must go,

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Thy wrongs no longer smother.

I have two sons in yonder field;
And, if thou meet'st them under shield,
Upon them bravely-do thy worst;
And foul fall him that blenches first!»-

XIII

Not far advanced was morning day,
When Marmion did his troop array
To Surrey's camp to ride.
He bad safe-conduct for his band,
Beneath the royal seal and hand,

And Douglas gave a guide:
The ancient earl, with stately grace,
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:

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

«This to me !» he said,—

« An 't were 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!»-
On the earl's cheek the flush of
rage

O'ercame the ashen hue of age:

Fierce he broke forth,-« And darest 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 draw-bridge, grooms what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.»—(11)
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:
Το there was such scanty room,
pass
The bars, descending, razed his plume.

XV..

The steed along the draw-bridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Not 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? (12)
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 recals,
And slowly seeks his castle's halls.

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But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling draw-bridge rang,
And from a loop-hole while I peep,
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 befal.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the earl's best steed;
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt to 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 favourite steed; All sheathed he was in armour bright, And much resembled that same knight Subdued by you in Cotswold fight:

Lord Angus wish'd him speed. >>

His eldest son, the Master of Angus.

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Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed
His troop, and reach'd, at eve, the Tweed,
Where Lennel's convent closed their march (13)
(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.
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 sun-beam 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. (14)
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,

To gain the opposing hill.
That morn, to many a trumpet-clang,
Twisel! thy rocks' deep echo rang;
And many a chief of birth and rank,
Saint Helen! at thy fountain drank.
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,
Had then from many an axe its doom,
To give the marching columns room.

XX

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-crrant's brand!
-O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!

O for one hour of Wallace wight,

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Ere

XXI.

yet the bands met Marmion's eye, 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 fair array'd
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And
I sweep so gallant by!
With all their banners bravely spread
And all their armour flashing high,
Saint George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England's standards fly.»-

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

With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,

This instant be our band array'd; The river must be quickly cross'd, That we may join Lord Surrey's host. If fight King James,-as well I trust, That fight he will, and fight he must,— The Lady Clare behind our lines Shall tarry, while the battle joins,>>—

XXII.

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;
Ileadmost of all he stems the tide,

And stems it gallantly.

Eustace held Clare upon her horse,

Old Hubert 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 staid,
And breath'd 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.

XXIII.

Hence might they see the full array
Of either host, for deadly fray; (15)
Their marshall'd lines stretch'd east and west,
And fronted north and south,
And distant salutation past

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 va'ward post,

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; (16) Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,

Shall be in rear-ward of the fight,
And succour those that need it most.
Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,
Would gladly to the van-guard go;
Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there,
With thee their charge will blithely share;
There fight thine own retainers too,
Beneath De Burgh, thy steward true.»-
Thanks noble Surrey!» Marmion said,
Nor further greeting there he paid;
But, parting like a thunderbolt,
First in the van-guard 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 sun-beams 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 wreath'd in sable smoke;
Volumed and vast, 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 nought 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;
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 nought 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 bauner 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 Highlandman,
And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntley, 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:
"T was vain:-But Fortune, on the right,
With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight.
Then fell that spotless banner white,
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 sight could bear:

By heaven, and all its saints, I swear,

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I will not see it lost!

Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare
May bid your beads, and patter 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 loth 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 armour 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.»

« Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease : He opes his eyes,» said Eustace; «< peace!»>

XXIX.

When, doff'd his casque, he felt free air,.
Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare:

<< Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where?
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare?
Redeem my pennon,-charge again!
Cry-Marmion to the rescue!'-Vain!
Last of my race, on battle-plain
That shout shall ne'er be heard again!-
Yet my last thought is England's:-tly,
To Dacre bear my signet-ring:
Tell him his squadrons up to bring:
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie;

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