Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, And thanked the Scottish Prioress; And tedious were to tell, I ween, The courteous speech that passed between. Like them, from horse-back to descend, Fitz-Eustace said,—“ I grieve, Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, Such gentle company to part: Think not discourtesy, But lords' commands must be obeyed; And Marmion and the Douglas said, That you must wend with me. Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, Which to the Scottish Earl he shewed, Commanding, that, beneath his care, Without delay, you shall repair, To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare."— The startled Abbess loud exclaimed; But she, at whom the blow was aimed, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,— She deemed she heard her death-doom read. "Cheer thee, my child!" the Abbess said, "They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band." "Nay, holy mother, nay,” Fitz-Eustace said, "the lovely Clare Will be in Lady Angus' care, In Scotland while we stay; And, when we move, an easy ride Female attendance to provide Befitting Gloster's heir; Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, By slightest look, or act, or word, To harass Lady Clare. Her faithful guardian he will be, Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e'en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, Within her kinsman's halls." He spoke, and blushed with earnest grace; His faith was painted on his face, And Clare's worst fear relieved. The Lady Abbess loud exclaimed On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, To martyr, saint, and prophet prayed, And called the Prioress to aid, To curse with candle, bell, and book, Her head the grave Cistertian shook : "The Douglas, and the King," she said, "In their commands will be obeyed; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall." T XXXI. The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, Assumed her wonted state again,— For much of state she had, Composed her veil, and raised her head, And-" Bid," in solemn voice she said, Thy master, bold and bad, The records of his house turn o'er, And, when he shall there written see, That one of his own ancestry Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, Bid him his fate explore! Prancing in pride of earthly trust, And, by a base plebeian thrust, He died his band before. God judge 'twixt Marmion and me; He is a chief of high degree, And I a poor recluse ; Yet oft, in holy writ, we see Even such weak minister as me May the oppressor bruise: For thus, inspired, did Judith slay The mighty in his sin, And Jael thus, and Deborah," Here hasty Blount broke in : "Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band; St. Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, To hear the Lady preach? By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, Will sharper sermon teach. Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce.” XXXII. "Submit we then to force," said Clare; "But let this barbarous lord despair His purposed aim to win; |