Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there

Give Marmion entertainment fair,

And lodging for his train, and Clare. Next morn the Baron climbed the tower,

To view afar the Scottish power,

Encamped on Flodden edge:

The white pavilions made a show,
Like remnants of the winter snow,
Along the dusky ridge.

Long Marmion looked :—at length his eye
Unusual movement might descry,

Amid the shifting lines:

The Scottish host drawn out appears,
For, flashing on the hedge of spears

The eastern sun-beam shines.

Their front now deepening, now extending; Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, Now drawing back, and now descending, The skilful Marmion well could know, They watched the motions of some foe, Who traversed on the plain below.

XIX.

Even so it was;-from Flodden ridge
The Scots beheld the English host

Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, And heedful watched them as they crossed The Till by Twisel Bridge.

High sight it is, and haughty, while

They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,
Beneath the castle's airy wall.

By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree,
Troop after troop is disappearing;
Troop after troop their banners rearing,
Upon the eastern bank you see.
Still pouring down the rocky den,
Where flows the sullen Till,

And rising from the dim-wood glen,
Standards on standards, men on men,
In slow succession still,

And bending o'er the Gothic arch,

And pressing on, in ceaseless march,

To gain the opposing hill.

That morn, to many a trumpet-clang,
Twisel! thy rock's deep echo rang;

And many a chief of birth and rank,
Saint Helen! at thy fountain drank.
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,
Had then from many an axe its doom,
To give the marching columns room.

XX.

And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile?
What checks the fiery soul of James?
Why sits that champion of the dames
Inactive on his steed,

And sees, between him and his land,

Between him and Tweed's southern strand,

His host Lord Surrey lead?

What vails the vain knight-errant's brand?-
O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!
O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight,
And cry--" Saint Andrew and our right!"
Another sight had seen that morn,

From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn,
And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne !-
The precious hour has passed in vain,
And England's host has gained the plain;
Wheeling their march, and circling still,
Around the base of Flodden-hill.

XXI.

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye,
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,-

“Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum! And see ascending squadrons come

Between Tweed's river and the hill,

Foot, horse, and cannon:-hap what hap,
My basnet to a prentice cap,

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till!-

Yet more! yet more!-how fair arrayed
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And sweep so gallant by!

With all their banners bravely spread,
And all their armour flashing high,

Saint George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England's banners fly.”—
"Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount; "thou'dst
best,

And listen to our lord's behest."

With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,— "This instant be our band arrayed;

The river must be quickly crossed,

That we may join Lord Surrey's host.
If fight King James,—as well I trust,
That fight he will, and fight he must,-
The Lady Clare behind our lines
Shall tarry, while the battle joins."-