To you they speak of martial fame;
But me remind of peaceful game,

When blither was their cheer,
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare,
But strive which foremost might repair
To the downfal of the deer.

XXXII.

"Nor less," he said,-" when looking forth,
I view yon Empress of the North
Sit on her hilly throne;

Her palace's imperial bowers,

Her castle, proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls and holy towers—
Nor less," he said, "I moan,

To think what woe mischance may bring,
And how these merry bells may ring
The death-dirge of our gallant King;
Or, with their larum, call

The burghers forth to watch and ward,
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard
Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall.-

But not for my presaging thought,

Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought !
Lord Marmion, I say nay :

God is the guider of the field,

He breaks the champion's spear and shield,-
But thou thyself shalt say,

When joins yon host in deadly stowre,
That England's dames must weep in bower,
Her monks the death-mass sing;

For never saw'st thou such a power
Led on by such a king."

And now, down winding to the plain,
The barriers of the camp they gain,
And there they made a stay.-
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling
His hand o'er every Border string,
And fit his harp the pomp to sing,
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King,
In the succeeding lay.

MARMION.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

WHEN dark December glooms the day,

And takes our autumn joys away;

When short and scant the sun-beam throws,

Upon the weary waste of snows,

A cold and profitless regard,

Like patron on a needy bard;

When sylvan occupation 's done,

And o'er the chimney rests the gun,