X The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, A blithe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion crossed the court, "Welcome to Norham, Marmion! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, ΧΙ Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck, By which you reach the donjon gate, They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye,° Of Tamworth tower and town; And he, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight, All as he lighted down. "Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Knight of the crest of gold! A blazoned shield, in battle won, Ne'er guarded heart so bold." 140 150 160 XII They marshalled him to the castle-hall, "Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold: There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; To him he lost his lady-love, And to the king his land. Ourselves beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, And saw his saddle bare; We saw the victor win the crest He wears with worthy pride, Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! For him who conquered in the right, XIII Then stepped, to meet that noble lord, Baron of Twisell and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold; 170 180 190 He led Lord Marmion to the deas, And Hardriding Dick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, Yet much he praised the pains he took, For lady's suit and minstrel's strain 200 210 XIV "Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy, I pray you bide some little space In this poor tower with me. Here may you keep your arms from rust, Or feat of arms befell. The Scots can rein a mettled steed, Saint George! a stirring life they lead 220 Then stay with us a little space, XV The captain marked his altered look, Where hast thou left that page of thine When last in Raby-towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often marked his cheeks were wet His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, But meeter seemed for lady fair, His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, The russet doublet's rugged fold Say, hast thou given that lovely youth 230 240 250 Or was the gentle page, in sooth, XVI Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; "That boy thou thought so goodly fair, 260 270 XVII Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, "No bird whose feathers gaily flaunt And many a darksome tower, In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 280 |