Therefore he spoke-but spoke in vain, For Marmion answered nought again. Now sudden distant trumpets shrill, Each ready archer grasped his bow, Just in that advantageous glade, The halting troop a line had made, VI First came the trumpets, at whose clang On prancing steeds they forward pressed, VIL He was a man of middle age; The flash of that satiric rage, Which, bursting on the early stage, And broke the keys of Rome. On milk-white palfrey forth he paced; From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, Embroidered round and round. The double tressure might you see, The thistle, and the fleur-de-lis, And gallant unicorn. So bright the king's armorial coat, That scarce the dazzled eye could note, A train, which well beseemed his state, VIII Down from his horse did Marmion spring, Soon as he saw the Lion-King; For well the stately Baron knew, To him such courtesy was due, Whom royal James himself had crowned, And on his temples placed the round Of Scotland's ancient diadem; And wet his brow with hallowed wine, The emblematic gem. Their mutual greetings duly made, The Lion thus his message said: “Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore, Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more; And strictly hath forbid resort From England to his royal court; Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name And honours much his warlike fame, My liege hath deemed it shame, and lack Of courtesy, to turn him back; And by his order, I, your guide, Must lodging fit and fair provide, Till finds King James meet time to seë IX. Though inly chafed at this delay, "England has here enow of spies X At length up that wild dale they wind, For there the Lion's care assigned A lodging meet for Marmion's rank. Of the green vale of Tyne; And far beneath, where slow they creep You hear her streams repine. The towers in different ages rose; A mighty mass, that could oppose, XI. Crichtoun! though now thy miry court Have been the minstrel's loved resort. Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, Quartered in old armorial sort, Remains of rude magnificence: Nor wholly yet hath time defaced Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, Still rises unimpaired, below, The court-yard's graceful portico; The darkness of thy Massy More; Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, May trace, in undulating line, The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. XII. Another aspect Crichtoun showed, With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, Her son, a stripling twelve years old, For each man, that could draw a sword. Had marched that morning with their lord, Earl Adam Hepburn-he who died Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean, "Twas a brave race, before the namo Of hated Bothwell stained their fame. XIII. And here two days did Marmion rest, Such the command of royal James; And, in his turn, he knew to prize Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wiseTrained in the lore of Rome and Greece, And policies of war and peace, XIV. It chanced, as fell the second night, That on the battlements they walked, And, by the slowly fading light, Of varying topics talked; And, unaware, the Herald-bard Said Marmion might his toil have spared, In travelling so far; For that a messenger from heaven Against the English war: And, closer questioned, thus he told In Scottish story have enrolled: XV. SIR DAVID LINDESAY'S TALE. "Of all the palaces so fair, And in its park, in jovial June, |