BEHIND him rode two gallant squires, vii Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, 5 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. 10 FOUR men-at-arms came at their backs, viii Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, The soldiers of the guard, Minstrels and trumpeters were there, THE guards their morrice-pikes advanced, 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. "Welcome to Norham, Marmion! 5 10 X 5 Stout heart, and open hand! 10 Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; "Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold: There, vainly, Ralph de Wilton strove 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; To him he lost his lady-love, And to the King his land. 5 10 He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! For him who conquered in the right, 20 THEN stepped to meet that noble lord xiii Sir Hugh the Heron bold, Baron of Twisell and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold. He led Lord Marmion to the deas, 5 10 "How the fierce Thirlwalls, and Ridleys all, Stout Willimondswick, And Hard-riding Dick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, The harper's barbarous lay; Yet much he praised the pains he took, For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 15 20 "Now, good Lord Marmion,” Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy, xiv Or feat of arms befell: The Scots can rein a mettled steed, Saint George! a stirring life they lead, Then stay with us a little space, I pray you for your lady's grace.' And crowned it high with wine. "Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: But first I pray thee fair, Where hast thou left that page of thine, 10 15 XV 5 Whose beauty was so rare? When last in Raby towers we met, 10 The boy I closely eyed, And often marked his cheeks were wet Or through embroidery, rich and rare, His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, His bosom-when he sighed, Say, hast thou given that lovely youth Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paramour ? LORD MARMION ill could brook such jest ; He rolled his kindling eye, With pain his rising wrath suppressed, Yet made a calm reply: "That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, He might not brook the northern air. More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, I left him sick in Lindisfarne : Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, |