« 前へ次へ »
And on the spot where burst the brand,
Just where the Page had flung him down,
And some the waving of a gown.
For he was speechless, ghastly, wan,
That he had seen, right certainly,
Like pilgrim from beyond the sea ;
And he a solemn sacred plight
Of Michael's restless sprite. Then each, to ease his troubled breast, To some blessed saint his prayers addressed : Some to St. Modan made their vows, Some to St. Mary of the Lowes, Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle, Some to Our Lady of the Isle ; Each did his patron witness make, That he such pilgrimage would take, And Monks should sing, and bells should toll, All for the weal of Michael's soul. While vows were ta’en, and prayers were prayed, 'Tis said the noble Dame, dismayed, Renounced, for aye, dark magic's aid.
XXVIII. Nought of the bridal will I tell, Which after in short space befell : Nor how brave sons and daughters fair Blessed Teviot's Flower, and Cranstoun's heir : After such dreadful scene, 'twere vain To wake the note of mirth again.
More meet it were to mark the day
Of penitence and prayer divine,
Did every pilgrim go;
Through all the lengthened row :
Forgotten their renown;
And there they kneeled them down:
In long procession came ; .
With the Redeemer's name:
And blessed them as they kneeled ;
And fortunate in field.
DIES IRÆ, DIES ILLA,
SOLVET SÆCLỤM IN FAVILLA ; While the pealing organ rung;
Were it meet with sacred strain
To close my lay, so light and vain, Thus the holy Fathers sung.
Hymn for the Dead. That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day ? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; When louder yet, and yet more dread,, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead !
Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day,
HUSHED is the harp-the Minstrel gone.
TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD.
IN SIX CANTOS.
Alas! that Scottish Mald slonld sing
The combat where her lover fell!
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY, LORD MONTAGU,
&c., &c., &c.
THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION, 1808.
It is hardly to be expected, that an Author, whom the Public have hon. oured with some degree of applause, should not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author of MARMION must be supposed to feel some anxiety concerning its success, since he is sensible that he hazards, by this second intrusion, any reputation which his first Poem may have procured him. The present Story turns upon the private adventures of a fictitious character; but is called a Tale of Flodden Field, because the hero's fate is connected with that memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The design of the Author was, if possible, to apprise his readers, at the outset, of the date of his Story, and to prepare them for the manners of the Age in which it is laid. Any historical narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition, exceeded his plan of a Romantic Tale; yet he may be permitted to hope, from the popularity of TaE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL, that an attempt to paint the manners of the feudal times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of a more interesting story, will not be unacceptable to the Public
The poem opens about the commencement of August, and concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9th September 1513.