That Douglas is my brother!' 'Nay, nay,' old Angus said, 'not so ; To Surrey's camp thou now must go, 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!'
Not far advanced was morning day When Marmion did his troop array
To Surrey's camp to ride ; He had 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 whispered in an undertone, 'Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.' The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped 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 stayed, 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.
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.'
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire And shook his very frame for ire,
AndThis 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 saidst 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 drawbridge, grooms what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.'
Lord Marmion turned,
And dashed 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.
The steed along the drawbridge 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 reached 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 reined 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.
The day in Marmion's journey wore; Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er, They crossed the heights of Stanrig-moor. His troop more closely there he scanned, And missed 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 loophole while I peep, Old Bell-the-Cat came from the keep, Wrapped 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 preferred''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?'.
'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 wished him speed.'· The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, A sudden light on Marmion broke : — 'Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!'
He muttered; "T was nor fay nor ghost I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.
O dotage blind and gross!
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;
'T was therefore gloomed 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
« 前へ次へ » |