MARMION. CANTO THIRD. The Hostel, or Inn. I. THE live-long day Lord Marmion rode : The mountain path the Palmer show'd; By glen and streamlet winded still, Where stunted birches hid the rill. They might not chuse the lowland road, For the Merse forayers were abroad, Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. Oft on the trampling band, from crown Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down; On wing of jet, from his repose In the deep heath, the black-cock rose; Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, Nor waited for the bending bow; And when the stony path began, By which the naked peak they wan, The noon had long been pass'd before They gain'd the height of Lammermoor; Thence winding down the northern way, Before them, at the close of day, Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay. II. No summons calls them to the tower, To spend the hospitable hour. To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone; His cautious dame, in bower alone, Dreaded her castle to unclose, So late, to unknown friends or foes. On through the hamlet as they paced, Lord Marmion drew his rein: The village inn seem'd large, though rude; Its cheerful fire and hearty food Might well relieve his train. Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, They bind their horses to the stall, And various clamour fills the hall: Toils everywhere the bustling host. III. Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, Through the rude hostel might you gaze; Might see, where, in dark nook aloof, The rafters of the sooty roof Bore wealth of winter cheer; Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, And gammons of the tusky boar, The chimney arch projected wide Were tools for housewives' hand. Nor wanted, in that martial day, The implements of Scottish fray, The buckler, lance, and brand. Beneath its shade, the place of state, On oaken settle Marmion sate, And view'd around the blazing hearth. |