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 naught 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 blazon fair,

A summons to proclaim; But indistinct the pageant proud, As fancy forms of midnight cloud, When flings 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 summons came:-3

XXVI.

"Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,
Whose names I now shall call,
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear;
Subjects of him who sent me here,
At his tribunal to appear,

I summon one and 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,
Fore-doom'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.

XXVIL

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

To 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 nuns should roam at large.
But in that Palmer's alter'd mien
A wondrous 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

Some desperate deed afar.

His courser would he feed and stroka
And, tucking up his sable frocke,
Would first his mettle 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 cama, By Eustace govern'd fair,

A troop escorting Hilda's Dame,

MS.-"Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone,
Before the mighty Monarch's throne,
I cite you to appear."

• MS.-"In thundering tone the voice did say."