V.

Next Marmion marked the Celtic race,

Of different language, form, and face,
A various race of man;

Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed,
And wild and garish semblance made,
The chequered trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes the war-pipes brayed

To every varying clan ;

Wild through their red or sable hair

Looked out their eyes, with savage stare,

On Marmion as he past;

Their legs above the knee were bare;

Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,

And hardened to the blast;

Of taller race, the chiefs they own

Were by the eagle's plumage known.

The hunted red-deer's undressed hide
Their hairy buskins well supplied;

The graceful bonnet decked their head;

Back from their shoulders hung the plaid,

A broad-sword of unwieldy length,

A dagger proved for edge and strength,

A studded targe they wore,

And quivers, bows, and shafts,-but, O!

Short was the shaft, and weak the bow,

To that which England bore.

The Isles-men carried at their backs

The ancient Danish battle-axe.

They raised a wild and wondering cry,

As with his guide rode Marmion by.
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when

The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,

And, with their cries discordant mixed,

Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwixt.

VI.

Thus through the Scottish camp they passed,

And reached the City gate at last,

Where all around, a wakeful guard,

Armed burghers kept their watch and ward.

Well had they cause of jealous fear,
When lay encamped, in field so near,
The Borderer and the Mountaineer.

As through the bustling streets they go,
All was alive with martial show;
At every turn, with dinning clang,
The armourer's anvil clashed and rang;
Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel
The bar that arms the charger's heel;
Or axe, or faulchion, to the side

Of jarring grind-stone was applied.

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace,

Through street, and lane, and market-place,

Bore lance, or casque, or sword;

While burghers, with important face,..
Described each new-come lord,

Discussed his lineage, told his name,

His following, and his warlike fame.

The Lion led to lodging meet,

Which high o'erlooked the crowded street;

Following-Feudal Retainers.

There must the Baron rest,

Till past the hour of vesper tide,

And then to Holy-Rood must ride,-
Such was the King's behest.

Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns

A banquet rich, and costly wines,

To Marmion and his train.

And when the appointed hour succeeds,
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,
And following Lindesay as he leads,

The palace-halls they gain.

VII.

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily,

That night, with wassal, mirth, and glee:

King James within her princely bower
Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power,
Summoned to spend the parting hour;

For he had charged, that his array
Should southward march by break of day.

Well loved that splendid monarch aye

The banquet and the song,

By day the tourney, and by night

The merry dance, traced fast and light,

The masquers quaint, the pageant bright,

The revel loud and long.

This feast outshone his banquets past;

It was his blithest, and his last.

The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay,

Cast on the court a dancing ray ;

Here to the harp did minstrels sing;
There ladies touched a softer string;
With long-eared cap, and motley vest,
The licensed fool retailed his jest;
His magic tricks the juggler plied;

At dice and draughts the gallants vied;

While some,

in close recess apart,

Courted the ladies of their heart,

Nor courted them in vain ;

For often, in the parting hour,

Victorious love asserts his power