Entered the train, and such a clang, X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, 140 The cannon from the ramparts glanced, Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck, By which you reach the donjon gate, They hailed Lord Marmion: They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; And he, their courtesy to requite, 155 160 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." XII. They marshalled him to the castle-hall, 165 170 "Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists of Cottiswold: There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove... 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; 175 He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! For him who conquered in the right, 185 190 XIII. Then stepped to meet that noble Lord, Sir Hugh the Heron bold, Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold. He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Raised o'er the pavement high, And placed him in the upper place They feasted full and high; The whiles a Northern harper rude "How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridlays all, Stout Willimondswick, And Hardriding Dick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw." The harper's barbarous lay; Yet much he praised the pains he took, For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 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, May breathe your war-horse well; Seldom hath passed a week but joust Or feat of arms befell: 195 200 205 210 215 220 The Scots can rein a mettled steed, And love to couch a spear; Saint George! a stirring life they lead, That have such neighbors near. XV. The captain marked his altered look, A mighty wassail-bowl he took, And crowned it high with wine. "Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: But first I pray thee fair, Where hast thou left that page of thine, That used to serve thy cup of wine, Whose beauty was so rare? When last in Raby-towers we met, And often marked his cheeks were wet With tears he fain would hide: His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, Or saddle battle-steed; But meeter seemed for lady fair, His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, His bosom - when he sighed, 230 235 240 245 250 The russet doublet's rugged fold Say, hast thou given that lovely youth Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paramour?" XVI. 255 า Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; With pain his rising wrath suppressed, Yet made a calm reply: "That boy thou thoughtst so goodly fair, Enough of him. But, Heron, say, Disdain to grace the hall to-day? Or has that dame, so fair and sage, XVII. Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, "No bird, whose feathers gayly flaunt, Norham is grim and grated close, And many a darksome tower; 260 265 270 275 |