And, by his order, I, your guide,

Must lodging fit and fair provide,

Till finds King James meet time to see
The flower of English chivalry."

IX.

Though inly chafed at this delay,
Lord Marmion bears it as he may.
The Palmer, his mysterious guide,
Beholding thus his place supplied,
Sought to take leave in vain;
Strict was the Lion-King's command
That none who rode in Mårmion's band,
Should sever from the train:
"England has here enow of spies
In Lady Heron's witching eyes;
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said,
But fair pretext to Marmion made.
The right hand path they now decline,
And trace against the stream the Tyne.

X.

175

180

185

190

At length up that wild dale they wind,

Where Crichtoun Castle crowns the bank;

For there the Lion's care assigned

195

A lodging meet for Marmion's rank.

That castle rises on the steep

Of the green vale of Tyne:

And far beneath, where slow they creep
From pool to eddy, dark and deep,
Where alders moist and willows weep,

You hear her streams repine.

200

The towers in different ages rose;
Their various architecture shows

The builders' various hands;
A mighty mass, that could oppose,
When deadliest hatred fired its foes,
The vengeful Douglas bands.

XI.

Crichtoun! though now thy miry court
But pens the lazy steer and sheep,
Thy turrets rude and tottered keep,
Have been the minstrel's loved resort.
Oft have I traced, within thy fort,

205

210

Of mouldering shields the mystic sense,
Scutcheons of honor or pretence,

215

Of fair hewn facets richly show
Their pointed diamond form,
Though there but houseless cattle go,
To shield them from the storm.
And, shuddering, still may we explore,
Where oft whilom were captives pent,
The darkness of thy Massy More;

Or, from thy grass-grown battlement,

230

Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 'Twas a brave race, before the name

Of hated Bothwell stained their fame.

XIII.

And here two days did Marmion rest,
With every rite that honor claims,
Attended as the King's own guest:—

Such the command of Royal James,
Who marshalled then his land's array,
Upon the Borough-moor that lay.

240

245

250

255

260

Perchance he would not foeman's eye
Upon his gathering host should pry,
Till full prepared was every band
To march against the English land.

Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit
Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit;

265

And, in his turn, he knew to prize

Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise, -
Trained in the lore of Rome and Greece,
And policies of war and peace.

270

XIV.

It chanced, as fell the second night,

That on the battlements they walked, And, by the slowly fading light

Of varying topics talked;

And, unaware, the herald-bard

275

Said Marmion might his toil have spared,

In travelling so far;

For that a messenger from heaven

In vain to James had counsel given
Against the English war;

And closer questioned, thus he told
A tale which chronicles of old

In Scottish story have enrolled:

XV.

SIR DAVID LINDESAY'S TALE.

"Of all the palaces so fair,

Built from the royal dwelling In Scotland, far beyond compare Linlithgow is excelling;

280

285

And in its park in jovial June,
How sweet the merry linnet's tune,
How blithe the blackbird's lay!
The wild buck bells from ferny brake,
The coot dives merry on the lake,
The saddest heart might pleasure take
To see all nature gay.

But June is to our sovereign dear
The heaviest month in all the year:
Too well his cause of grief you know,
June saw his father's overthrow.
Woe to the traitors who could bring
The princely boy against his King!

Still in his conscience burns the sting.
In offices as strict as Lent,

290

295

300

King James's June is ever spent.

XVI.

"When last this ruthful month was come,

And in Linlithgow's holy dome

The King, as wont, was praying;

While for his royal father's soul
The chanters sung, the bells did toll,
The Bishop mass was saying —
For now the year brought round again
The day the luckless king was slain-
In Katharine's aisle the monarch knelt,
With sackcloth-shirt and iron belt,

And eyes with sorrow streaming;
Around him in their stalls of state

305

310

315

The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate,

Their banners o'er them beaming.