On milk-white palfrey forth he paced; With the proud heron-plume. From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, 15 With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, Embroidered round and round. The double tressure might you see, First by Achaius borne, The thistle and the fleur-de-lis, And gallant unicorn. 20 So bright the king's armorial coat, That scarce the dazzled eye could note, In living colours blazoned brave, The Lion, which his title gave. 25 A train, which well beseemed his state, Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name, And, by his order, I, your guide, Must lodging fit and fair provide, Till finds King James meet time to see Strict was the Lion-King's command, That none who rode in Marmion's band, 66 England has here enow of spies 20 ix 5 10 X Where Crichtoun Castle crowns the bank; A mighty mass, that could oppose, Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, Remains of rude magnificence: Nor wholly yet hath time defaced Thy lordly gallery fair; Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, Adorn thy ruined stair. Still rises unimpaired, below, The courtyard's graceful portico; go, Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, May trace, in undulating line, 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, 10 15 She ne'er shall see his gallant train Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. "Twas a brave race, before the name Of hated Bothwell stained their fame. AND here two days did Marmion rest, Such the command of Royal James, xiii 5 10 Of varying topics talked; And, unaware, the Herald-bard 5 Said, Marmion might his toil have spared, For that a messenger from heaven 10 SIR DAVID LINDESAY'S TALE. Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwelling, How blithe the blackbird's lay! To see all nature gay. The saddest heart might pleasure take 10 But June is, to our Sovereign dear, The heaviest month in all the year: Too well his cause of grief you know,— June saw his father's overthrow. 15 Woe to the traitors, who could bring The princely boy against his King! Still in his conscience burns the sting. In offices as strict as Lent, King Jame's June is ever spent. 20 WHEN last this ruthful month was come, Ivi And in Linlithgow's holy dome The King, as wont, was praying; While, for his royal father's soul, The Bishop mass was saying, པ་ IV 5 |