His helm hung at the saddle-bow; Well, by his visage, you might know The scar on his brown cheek revealed A token true of Bosworth field; His forehead, by his casque worn bare, His thick moustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, His square-turned joints, and strength of limb, But, in close fight, a champion grim, VI. Well armed was he from head to heel, In mail, and plate, of Milan steel; A falcon hovered on her nest, With wings outspread, and forward breast; E'en such a falcon, on his shield, Soared sable in an azure field: The golden legend bore aright, "Who checks at me, to death is dight." Blue was the charger's broidered rein; Blue ribbons decked his arching mane; The knightly housing's ample fold Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold. VII. Behind him rode two gallant squires, Of noble name, and knightly sires; They burned the gilded spurs to claim; For well could each a war-horse tame, Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, And lightly bear the ring away; i Nor less with courteous precepts stored, Could dance in hall, and carve at board, And frame love-ditties passing rare, And sing them to a lady fair. VIII. Four men-at-arms came at their backs, With halbert, bill, and battle-axe : They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, And led his sumpter mules along, And ambling palfrey, when at need Him listed ease his battle-steed. The last, and trustiest of the four, On high his forked pennon bore; Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, Where, blazoned sable, as before, The towering falcon seemed to soar. Attended on their lord's behest Each, chosen for an archer good, Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; Each one a six-foot bow could bend, And far a cloth-yard shaft could send; Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, And at their belts their quivers rung. Their dusty palfreys, and array, Shewed they had marched a weary way. IX. "Tis meet that I should tell you now, How fairly armed, and ordered how, The soldiers of the guard, With musquet, pike, and morion, To welcome noble Marmion, Stood in the Castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepared : : Entered the train, and such a clang, As then through all his turrets rang, Old Norham never heard. X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, The trumpets flourished brave, The cannon from the ramparts glanced, And thundering welcome gave. A blythe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion crossed the court, He scattered angels round. |