O'er Horncliff-hill a plump of spears Beneath a pennon gay; A horseman, darting from the crowd, Before the dark array. His bugle horn he blew; IV. 'Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, Bring pasties of the doe, And quickly make the entrance free, And all our trumpets blow; Lord MARMION waits below!' Then to the Castle's lower ward Sped forty yeomen tall, The iron-studded gates unbarr'd, Rais'd the portcullis' ponderous guard, The lofty palisade unsparr'd And let the drawbridge fall. V. Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, ire; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek Did deep design and counsel speak. His forehead, by his casque worn bare, His thick mustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turn'd joints, and strength of limb, Show'd him no carpet knight so trim, But in close fight a champion grim, In camps a leader sage. VI. Well was he arm'd from head to heel, E'en such a falcon, on his shield, VII. Behind him rode two gallant squires, Of noble name, and knightly sires; They burn'd 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; Nor less with courteous precepts stor'd, 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 at their belts their quivers rung. IX. 'Tis meet that I should tell you now, Stood in the Castle-yard: X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanc'd, The trumpets flourish'd brave, The cannon from the ramparts glanc'd, And thundering welcome gave. A blithe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court, He scatter'd angels round. 'Welcome to Norham, Marmion ! Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land!' XI. Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, With silver scutcheon round their neck, Stood on the steps of stone By which you reach the donjon gate, And there, with herald pomp and state, They hail'd Lord Marmion: They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; And he, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, All as he lighted down. 'Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Knight of the crest of gold! XII. They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, Where the guests stood all aside, And loudly flourish'd the trumpet-call, And the heralds loudly cried, '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. Ourselves beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, And saw his saddle bare; We saw the victor win the crest He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, revers'd, His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquer'd in the right, Marmion of Fontenaye!' XIII. Then stepp'd to meet that noble Lord, And Captain of the Hold. He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Rais'd o'er the pavement high, And plac'd him in the upper place: They feasted full and high: The whiles a Northern harper rude Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, 'How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all, Stout Willimondswick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, And taken his life at the Deadman'sshaw.' Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook The harper's barbarous lay; Yet much he prais'd the pains he took, And well those pains did pay: For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. XIV. 'Now, good Lord Marmion,' Heron says, 'Of your fair courtesy, I pray you bide some little space Here you may keep your arms from rust, May breathe your war-horse well; Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust Or feat of arms befell: The Scots can rein a mettled steed, I pray you, for your lady's grace !' XV. The Captain mark'd his alter'd look, And crown'd it high with wine. 'Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: But first I pray thee fair, Where hast thou left that page of thine, That us'd to serve thy cup of wine, Whose beauty was so rare ? When last in Raby towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, With tears he fain would hide : But meeter seem'd for lady fair, His bosom-when he sigh'd, Could scarce repel its pride! Or was the gentle page, in sooth, XVI. Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; He roll'd his kindling eye, With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, Yet made a calm reply: 'That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, He might not brook the northern air. XVII. Unmark'd, a least unreck'd, the taunt, In fair Queen Margaret's bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove; But where shall we find leash or band For dame that loves to rove? Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She'll stoop when she has tir'd her wing.' XVIII. 'Nay, if with Royal James's bride prince, Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. Then did I march with Surrey's power, What time we raz'd old Ayton tower.' XIX. 'For such-like need, my lord, I trow, Norham can find you guides enow; For here be some have prick'd as far, On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar; Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale; Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, And given them light to set their hoods.' XX. Now, in good sooth,' Lord Marmion cried, 'Were I in warlike wise to ride, A better guard I would not lack, Than your stout forayers at my back; But, as in form of peace I go, A friendly messenger, to know Why through all Scotland, near and far, Their King is mustering troops for war, The sight of plundering Border spears XXI. The Captain mus'd a little space, | But ill may spare a pursuivant, E The mass he might not sing or say The wildest war-horse in your train; He shall shrieve penitent no more. XXII. Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, Nephew,' quoth Heron, 'by my fay, Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say.' XXIII. 'Here is a holy Palmer come, On hills of Armenie hath been, The Mount, where Israel heard the law, 'Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin, And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. He shows Saint James's cockle-shell; Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ; And of that Grot where olives nod, Where, darling of each heart and eye, From all the youth of Sicily Saint Rosalie retired to God. XXIV. To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. He knows the passes of the North, And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth; Little he eats, and long will wake, And drinks but of the stream or lake. This were a guide o'er moor and dale; But, when our John hath quaff'd his ale, |