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The monarch o'er the syren hung,
And beat the measure as she sung;
And, pressing closer, and more near,
He whisper'd praises in her ear.
In loud applause the courtiers vied;
And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside.
The witching dame to Marmion threw

A glance, where seem'd to reign
The pride that claims applauses due,
And of her royal conquest, too,
A real or feign'd disdain:
Familiar was the look, and told,
Marmion and she were friends of old.
The king observed their meeting eyes,
With something like displeas'd surprise;
For monarchs ill can rivals brook,
Even in a word, or smile, or look.

Straight took he forth the parchment broad,
Which Marmion's high commission show'd:
« Our Borders sack'd by many a raid,
Our peaceful liegemen robb'd,» he said;
« On day of truce our warden slain,
Stout Barton kill'd, his vessels ta'en-
Unworthy were we here to reign,
Should these for vengeance cry in vain;
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,
Our herald has to Henry borne.»>

XIV.

He paused, and led where Douglas stood,
And with stern eye the pageant view'd:
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Who coronet of Angus bore,

And, when his blood and heart were high,
Did the third James in camp defy,
And all his minions led to die

On Lauder's dreary flat :

Princes and favourites long grew tame,
And trembled at the homely name

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat; (13)
The same who left the dusky vale
Of Hermitage in Liddesdale,

Its dungeons, and its towers,
Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air,
And Bothwell bauk is blooming fair,

To fix his princely bowers.
Though now, in age, he had laid down
His armour for the peaceful gown,

And for a staff his brand;

Yet often would flash forth the fire,
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire
And minion's pride withstand;
And even that day, at council board,

Unapt to sooth his sovereign's mood,
Against the war had Angus stood,
And chafed his royal lord. (14)

XV.

His giant-form, like ruin'd tower,

Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt,
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt,
Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower :
His locks and beard in silver grew;
His eye-brows kept their sable hue.
Near Douglas when the monarch stood,
His bitter speech he thus pursued:

« Lord Marmiou, since these letters say,
That in the north you needs must stay,
While slightest hopes of peace remain,
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern,
To say,-Return to Lindisfarn,
Until my herald come again.—
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold; (15)
Your host shall be the Douglas bold,-
A chief unlike his sires of old.
He wears their motto on his blade, (16)
Their blazon o'er his towers display'd;
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose,
More than to face his country's foes.
And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen,

But e'en this morn to me was given
A prize, the first fruits of the war,
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar,

A bevy of the maids of heaven.

Under your guard, these holy maids
Shall safe return to cloister shades,
Aud, while they at Tantalion stay,
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say.»
And, with the slaughter'd favourite's name,
Across the monarch's brow there came
A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame.

XVI.

In answer nought could Angus speak;
His proud heart swell'd well nigh to break:
He turn'd aside, and down his cheek

A burning tear there stole.

His hand the monarch sudden took,
That sight his kind heart could not brook;
Now, by the Bruce's soul,

Angus, my hasty speech forgive!
For sure as doth his spirit live,
As he said of the Douglas old,
you,-

I well may say of

That never king did subject hold,

In speech more free, in war more bold,
More tender, and more true;'
Forgive me, Douglas, once again.»>-
And, while the king his hand did strain,
The old man's tears fell down like rain.
To seize the moment Marmion tried,
And whisper'd to the king aside:
«Oh! let such tears unwonted plead
For respite short from dubious deed!
A child will weep a bramble's smart,
A maid to see her sparrow part,
A stripling for a woman's heart:
But woe awaits a country, when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
Then, oh! what omen, dark and high,
When Douglas wets his manly eye!»-

XVII.

Displeased was James, that stranger view'd

And tamper'd with his changing mood.

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Laugh those that can, weep those that may,»»>

Thus did the fiery monarch say,

«Southward I march by break of day;
And if within Tantallon strong,
The good Lord Marmion tarries long,
Perchance our meeting next may fall
At Tamworth, in his castle-hall. » —
The haughty Marmion felt the taunt,
And answer'd, grave, the royal vaunt:
« Much honour'd were my humble home,
If in its halls King James should come;
But Nottingham has archers good,
And Yorkshire men are stern of mood;
Northumbrian prickers wild and rude.
On Derby hills the paths are steep;
In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep:
And many a banner will be torn,
And many a knight to earth be borne,

And many a sheaf of arrows spent,

Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent: brave prince, while yet you may.»>The monarch lightly turn'd away,

Yet pause,

O, Dowglas! Dowglas!
Tndir and trew.

The Honlate.

And to his nobles loud did call,

« Lords, to the dance,-a hall! a hall!»1
Himself his cloak and sword flung by,
And led Dame Heron gallantly;
And minstrels, at the royal order,
Rung out- Blue Bonnets o'er the Border.

XVIII.

Leave we these revels now, to tell
What to Saiut Hilda's maids befel,
Whose galley, as they sail'd again
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en.
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide,
Till James should of their fate decide;
And soon, by his command,
Were gently summon'd, to prepare
To journey under Marmion's care,
As escort honour'd, safe, and fair,
Again to English land.

The abbess told her chaplet o'er,
Nor knew which saint she should implore;
For, when she thought of Constance, sore
She fear'd Lord Marmion's mood.
And judge what Clara must have felt!
The sword, that hung in Marmion's belt,
Had drunk De Wilton's blood.
Unwittingly, King James had given,

As guard to Whitby's shades,
The man most dreaded under heaven
By these defenceless maids;
Yet what petition could avail,
Or who would listen to the tale
Of woman, prisoner, and nun,
Mid bustle of a war begun?
They deen'd it hopeless to avoid
The convoy of their dangerous guide.

XIX.

Their lodging, so the king assign'd,
To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd;
And thus it fell, that, passing nigh,
The Palmer caught the abbess' eye,
Who warn'd him by a scroll,
She had a secret to reveal,

That much concern'd the church's weak,
And health of sinner's soul;
And, with deep charge of secrecy,
She named a place to meet,
Within an open balcony,
That hung from dizzy pitch and high,

Above the stately street;

To which, as common to each home,
At night they might in secret come.

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The antique buildings, climbing high,
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky,

Were here wrapt deep in shade;

There on their brows the moon-beam broke,
Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke,
And on the casements play'd.

Lad other light was none to see,
Save torches gliding far,
Before some chieftain of degree,
Who left the royal revelry

To bowne him for the war.

A solemn scene the abbess chose!

A solemn hour, her secret to disclose.

XXI.

holy Palmer!» she began,—

For sure he must be sainted man,

Whose blessed feet have trode the ground
Where the Redeemer's tomb is found;
For his dear church's sake, my tale
Attend, nor deem of light avail,
Though I must speak of worldly love,-
Bew vain to those who wed above!-
De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood
Idle it were of Whitby's dame,

To say of that same blood I came);

Aad once, when jealous rage was high,
Lord Marmion said despiteously,
Walton was traitor in his heart,

And had made league with Martin Swart, ' (17)
When he came here on Simnel's part;
And only cowardice did restrain
His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain,—
And down he threw his glove:-the thing
Was tried, as wont, before the king;
Where frankly did De Wilton own,
That Swart in Guelders he had known;
And that between them then there went
Some scroll of courteous compliment.

For this he to his castle sent;
But when his messenger return'd,
Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd!
For in his packet there were laid
Letters that claim'd disloyal aid,

And proved King Henry's cause betray'd.
His fame thus blighted, in the field

He strove to clear, by spear and shield ;-
To clear his fame in vain he strove,
For wonderous are His ways above!
Perchance some form was unobserved:
Ferchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved; (18)
Else how could guiltless champion quail,
Or how the blessed ordeal fail?

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With Clare alone he credence won,
Who, rather than wed Marmion,
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair,
To give our house her livings fair,
And die a vestal vot'ress there-
The impulse from the earth was given,
But bent her to the paths of heaven.
A purer heart, a lovelier maid,
Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade,
No, not since Saxon Edelfled;
Only one trace of earthly strain,

That for her lover's loss

She cherishes a sorrow vain,

And murmurs at the cross.-
And then her heritage,―it goes

Along the banks of Tame;
Deep fields of grain the reaper mows,
In meadows rich the heifer lows,
The falconer, and huntsman, knows
Its woodlands for the game.
Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear,
And I, her humble vot'ress here,
Should do a deadly sin.

Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes,
If this false Marmion such a prize

By my consent should win;

Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn,
That Clare shall from our house be torn:
And grievous cause have I to fear,
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear.

XXIII.

Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd
To evil power, I claim thine aid,
By every step that thou hast trod
To holy shrine and grotto dim,
By every martyr's tortured limb,
By angel, saint, and seraphim,

And by the church of God!
For mark:-When Wilton was betray'd,
And with his squire forged letters laid,
She was,-alas! that sinful maid,

By whom the deed was done,-
O! shame and horror to be said,
She was a perjured nun!
No clerk in all the land, like her,
Traced quaint and varying character.
Perchance you may a marvel deem,
That Marmion's paramour

(For such vile thing she was) should scheme

Her lover's nuptial hour;

But o'er him thus she hoped to gain,
As privy to his honour's stain,

Illimitable power.

For this she secretly retain'd

Each proof that might the plot reveal, Instructions with his hand and seal;

And thus Saint Hilda deign'd,

Through sinner's perfidy impure,
Her house's glory to secure,

And Clare's immortal weal.

XXIV.

<< "T were long, and needless, here to tell, How to my hand these papers fell;

With me they must not stay.

Saint Hilda keep her abbess true!
Who knows what outrage he might do,
While journeying by the way?-
O blessed saint, if e'er again
I venturous leave thy calm domain,
To travel or by land or main,

Deep penance may I pay !

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer;
I give this packet to thy care,
For thee to stop they will not dare :

Aud O! with cautious speed!
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,
That he may show them to the king;
And, for thy well-earn'd meed,
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine
A weekly mass shall still be thine,

While priest can sing and read.—
What ail'st thou ?-Speak!»- For as he took
The charge, a strong emotion shook
His frame; and, ere reply,
They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone,
Like distant clarion feebly blown,

That on the breeze did die;

And loud the abbess shriek'd in fear,
Saint Withold save us!-What is here?
Look at yon City Cross!

See on its battled tower appear
Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear,
And blazon'd banners toss !»-

XXV.

Dun-Edin's Cross, (19) a pillar'd stone,
Rose on a turret octagon;
(But now is razed that monument,

Whence royal edict rang,

And voice of Scotland's law was sent
In glorious trumpet-clang.
O! be his tomb as lead to lead,
Upon its dull destroyer's head!—
A minstrel's malison' is said.-)
Then on its battlements they saw
A vision, passing nature's law,

Strange, wild, and dimly seen;
Figures that seem'd to rise and die,
Gibber and sign, advance and fly,
While nought confirm'd could ear or eye
Discern of sound or mien.
Yet darkly did it seem, as there
Heralds and pursuivants prepare,
With trumpet sound, and Llazon'd fair,
A summons to proclaim;
But indistinct the pageant proud,
As fancy forms of midnight cloud,
When things the moon upon her shroud
A wavering tinge of flame;

It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,
From midmost of the spectre crowd,
This awful summous came:- -(20)

XXVI.

« Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, Whose names I now shall call, Scottish, or foreigner, give ear! Subjects of him who sent me here,

11. c. Curse.

At his tribunal to appear,

I summon one aud all:

I cite you by each deadly sin,
That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within;
I cite you by each brutal lust,
That e'er defiled your earthly dust,—

By wrath, by pride, by fear,
By each o'ermastering passion's tone,
By the dark grave, and dying groan!
When forty days are pass'd and gone,
I cite you, at your monarch's throne
To answer and appear.»-

Then thunder'd forth a roll of names:-
The first was thine, unhappy James!

Then all thy nobles came; Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,— Why should I tell their separate style?

Each chief of birth and fame,
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,
Foredoom'd to Flodden's carnage-pile,
Was cited there by name;
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,
De Wilton, erst of Aberley,

The self-same thundering voice did say,

«

But then another spoke:

Thy fatal summons I deny, And thine infernal lord defy, Appealing me to Him on high,

Who burst the sinner's yoke.»At that dread accent, with a scream, Parted the pageant like a dream,

The summoner was gone. Prone on her face the abbess fell, And fast, and fast, her beads did tell; Her nuns came startled by the yell,

And found her there alone. She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd.

XXVII.

Shift we the scene.-The camp doth move,
Dun-Edin's streets are empty now,
Save when, for weal of those they love,

Το

pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
The tottering child, the anxious fair,
The gray-hair'd sire, with pious care
To chapels and to shrines repair.- .
Where is the Palmer now? and where
The abbess, Marmion, and Clare?-
Bold Douglas! to Tantallon fair

They journey in thy charge:
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand,
The Palmer still was with the band:
Angus, like Lindesay, did command,

That none should roam at large.
But in that Palmer's alter'd mien
A wonderous change might now be seen;
Freely he spoke of war,

Of marvels wrought by single hand,
When lifted for a native land;
And still look'd high, as if he plann'd

Some desperate deed afar.

His courser would he feed and stroke,
And, tucking up his sable frock,

Would first his metal bold provoke,

Then sooth or quell his pride.

Old Hubert said, that never one
He saw, except Lord Marmion,

A steed so fairly ride.

XXVIII.

Some half-hour's march behind, there came,
By Eustace govern'd fair,

A troop escorting Hilda's dame,

With all her nuns, and Clare.

No audience had Lord Marmion sought;

Ever be fear'd to aggravate
Cara de Clare's suspicious hate;
And safer 't was, he thought,

To wait till, from the nuns removed,
The influence of kinsmen loved,
And suit by Ilenry's self approved,
Her slow consent had wrought.

vas no flickering flame, that dies
Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs,
And lighted oft at ladies' eyes;
Belong'd to stretch his wide command
fer luckless Clara's ample land:
Besides, when Wilton with him vied,
Although the
pang of humbled pride
The place of jealousy supplied,
Tet conquest, by that meanness won
He almost loathed to think upon,
Led him, at times, to hate the cause

Which made him burst through honour's laws. if e'er he loved, 't was her alone,

Who died within that vault of stone.

XXIX.

And now, when close at hand they saw
North Berwick's town, and lofty Law,
Fit-Eustace bade them pause a while
Before a venerable pile, (21)
Whose turrets view'd afar
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle,

The ocean's peace or war.

At tolling of a bell, forth came

The convent's venerable dame,

And pray'd St Hilda's Abbess rest

With her, a loved and honour'd guest, prepare

Till Douglas should a bark

To waft her back to Whitby fair.
Glad was the abbess, you may guess,
And thank'd the Scottish prioress:
And tedious were to tell, I ween,

The courteous speech that pass'd between.
O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave;
But when fair Clara did intend,

Like them, from horseback to descend, Fit-Eustace said,-«I grieve,

Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart,
Such gentle company to part;—
Think not discourtesy,

But lords' commands must be obey'd;
And Marmion and the Douglas said,
That
you must wend with me.
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad,
Which to the Scottish earl he show'd,
Commanding, that beneath his care,
Without delay, you shall repair

To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.»

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Nay, holy mother, nay,» Fitz-Eustace said,

the lovely Clare Will be in Lady Angus' care,

In Scotland while we stay;
And, when we move, an easy ride
Will bring us to the English side,
Female attendance to provide

Befitting Gloster's heir;

Nor thinks, nor dreams my noble lord,
By slightest look, or act, or word,

To harass Lady Clare;
Her faithful guardian he will be,
Nor sue for slightest courtesy

That even to stranger falls,

Till he shall place her, safe and free,
Within her kinsman's halls.»-
He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace;
His faith was painted on his face,

And Clare's worst fear relieved.
The lady abbess loud exclaim'd
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed,
Entreated, threaten'd, grieved;
To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd,
Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd,
And call'd the prioress to aid,

To curse with candle, bell, and book.
Her head the grave Cistertian shook:
<< The Douglas and the king,» she said,
<< In their commands will be obey'd;
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall
The maiden in Tantallon hall.»—

XXXI.

The abbess, seeing strife was vain,
Assumed her wonted state again,-
For much of state she had,-
Composed her veil, and raised her head,
And-« Bid,» in solemn voice she said,
Thy master bold and bad,

The records of his house turn o'er,

And, when he there shall written see,
That one of his own ancestry

Drove the monks forth of Coventry, (22) Bid him his fate explore!

Prancing in pride of earthly trust,
His charger hurl'd him to the dust,
And, by a base plebeian thrust,

He died his band before.

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me;
He is a chief of high degree,

And I a poor recluse;
Yet oft, in holy writ, we see
Even such weak minister as me

May the oppressor bruise:
For thus, inspired, did Judith slay
The mighty in his sin,
And Jael thus, and Deboralı,»—-*
Here hasty Blount broke in:

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