And vindicate De Wilton's name.
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell
Of the strange pageantry of Hell,
That broke our secret speech-
It rose from the infernal shade,
Or featly was some juggle played,
A tale of peace to teach.

Appeal to Heaven I judged was best,
When my name came among the rest.

IX.

"Now here, within Tantallon Hold,
To Douglas late my tale I told,
To whom my house was known of old.
Won by my proofs, his falchion bright
This eve anew shall dub me knight.
These were the arms that once did turn
The tide of fight on Otterburne,
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield,
When the Dead Douglas won the field.
These Angus gave his armorer's care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,
But ancient armor on the walls,
And aged chargers in the stalls,

And women, priests, and gray-haired men;
The rest were all in Twisel glen.
And now I watch my armor here,

By law of arms, till midnight's near;

Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light.

X.

"There soon again we meet, my Clare! This Baron means to guide thee there:

Douglas reveres his King's command,
Else would he take thee from his band.
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too,

Will give De Wilton justice due.
Now meeter far for martial broil,

Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,

Once more"-"O Wilton! must we then

Risk new-found happiness again,

Trust fate of arms once more? And is there not an humble glen, Where we, content and poor, Might build a cottage in the shade, A shepherd thou, and I to aid

Thy task on dale and moor?That reddening brow!-too well I know, Not even thy Clare can peace bestow, While falsehood stains thy name: Go then to fight! Clare bids thee go!

Clare can a warrior's feelings know,

And weep a warrior's shame;
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel,
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel

And belt thee with thy brand of steel,
And send thee forth to fame!"

XI.

That night upon the rocks and bay,
The midnight moonbeam slumbering lay,
And poured its silver light, and pure,
Through loophole, and through embrasure,
Upon Tantallon tower and hall;
But chief where archéd windows wide
Illuminate the chapel's pride,

The sober glances fall.

Much was there need; though seamed with scars,

Two veterans of the Douglas' wars,

Though two gray priests were there,

And each a blazing torch held high,

You could not by their blaze descry
The chapel's carving fair.
Amid that dim and smoky light,
Checkering the silvery moonshine bright,

A bishop by the altar stood,

A noble lord of Douglas blood,

With mitre sheen, and rochet white.
Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eye
But little pride of prelacy;

More pleased that, in a barbarous age,

He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page,

Than that beneath his rule he held

The bishopric of fair Dunkeld.

Beside him ancient Angus stood,

Doffed his furred gown, and sable hood:

rocquet 142

O'er his huge form and visage pale,
He wore a cap and shirt of mail;

And leaned his large and wrinkled hand

Upon the huge and sweeping brand
Which wont of yore, in battle fray,

His foeman's limbs to shred away,
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray.
He seemed as, from the tombs around
Rising at judgment-day,

Some giant Douglas may be found
In all his old array;

So pale his face, so huge his limb,

So old his arms, his look so grim.

XII.

Then at the altar Wilton kneels,

And Clare the spurs bound on his heels; And think what next he must have felt, At buckling of the falchion belt!

And judge how Clara changed her hue, While fastening to her lover's side A friend, which, though in danger tried, He once had found untrue!

Then Douglas struck him with his blade:
"Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid,
I dub thee knight.

Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir!
For King, for Church, for Lady fair,

See that thou fight."

And Bishop Gawain, as he rose,
Said" Wilton! grieve not for thy woes,

Disgrace, and trouble;

For He, who honor best bestows,

May give thee double."

De Wilton sobbed, for sob he must"Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust

That Douglas is my brother!" "Nay, nay," old Angus said, "not so; To Surrey's camp thou now must go,

Thy wrongs no longer smother.

I have two sons in yonder field;

And, if thou meet'st them under shield, Upon them bravely-do thy worst; And foul fall him that blenches first!'

XIII.

Not far advanced was morning day,

When Marmion did his troop array