ページの画像
PDF
ePub

And, ignorant of priests' cruelty,
Marvel such relics here should be."

XXXII.

Fixed was her look and stern her air:

Back from her shoulders streamed her hair;
The locks, that wont her brow to shade,

Stared up erectly from her head;
Her figure seemed to rise more high;
Her voice, despair's wild energy
Had given a tone of prophecy.
Appalled the astonished conclave sate;
With stupid eyes, the men of fate
Gazed on the light inspired form,
And listened for the avenging storm
The judges felt the victim's dread;
No hand was moved, no word was said,
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given,
Raising his sightless balls to heaven:

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

585

590

595

:

600

From that dire dungeon, place of doom,

Of execution too, and tomb,

Paced forth the judges three;

Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell
The butcher-work that there befell,
When they had glided from the cell
Of sin and misery.

605

XXXIII.

An hundred winding steps convey
That conclave to the upper day;

610

42

1

MARMION.
EMI

But, ere they. Breathed the fresher air,
They heard the shriekings of despair,
And many a stiffed groan:
..with speed their.upward way they take
(Such speed as age and fear can make),
And crossed themselves for terror's sake,
As hurrying, tottering on,

Even in the vesper's heavenly tone,
They seemed to hear a dying groan,
And bade the passing knell to toll
For welfare of a parting soul.
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung,
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung;
To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled,
His beads the wakeful hermit told,

The Bamborough peasant raised his head,
But slept ere half a prayer he said:
So far was heard the mighty knell,
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell,
Spread his broad nostril to the wind,
Listed before, aside, behind,

Then couched him down beside the hind,
And quaked among the mountain fern,
To hear that sound so dull and stern.

[CANTO II.

615

620

625

630

CANTO THIRD.

THE HOSTEL, OR INN.

I.

THE livelong day Lord Marmion rode:
The mountain path the Palmer showed
By glen and streamlet winded still,
Where stunted birches hid the rill.

They might not choose the lowland road,
For the Merse forayers were abroad,
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey,
Had scarcely failed to bar their way.
Oft on the trampling band, from crown
Of some tall cliff, the deer looked down;
On wing of jet, from his repose
In the deep heath, the blackcock 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,
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan,
The noon had long been passed before
They gained the height of Lammermoor;
Thence winding down the Northern way,
Before them, at the close of day,
Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay.

[blocks in formation]

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
Before a porch whose front was graced
With bush and flagon trimly placed,
Lord Marmion drew his rein:

The village inn seemed large, though rude;
Its cheerful fire and hearty food

Might well relieve his train.

Down from their seats the horsemen sprung,
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung;
They bind their horses to the stall,
For forage, food, and firing call,
And various clamor fills the hall:
Weighing the labor with the cost,
Toils everywhere the bustling host.

[blocks in formation]

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,
And savory haunch of deer.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

The chimney arch projected wide;
Above, around it, and beside,

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 viewed around the blazing hearth
His followers mix in noisy mirth;
Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide,
From ancient vessels ranged aside,
Full actively their host supplied.

IV.

Theirs was the glee of martial breast,
And laughter theirs at little jest;
And oft Lord Marmion deigned to aid,
And mingle in the mirth they made;
For though, with men of high degree,
The proudest of the proud was he,
Yet, trained in camps, he knew the art
To win the soldier's hardy heart.

They love a captain to obey,

Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May;
With open
hand and brow as free,
Lover of wine and minstrelsy;
Ever the first to scale a tower,
As venturous in a lady's bower:

[ocr errors]

Such buxom chief shall lead his host
From India's fires to Zembla's frost.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« 前へ次へ »