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Tunstall lies dead upon the field,
His life-blood stains the spotless shield:
Edmund is down:-my life is reft;-
The Admiral alone is left.

Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,
With Chester charge, and Lancashire,
Full
upon Scotland's central host,

Or victory and England's lost.

Must I bid twice ?-hence, varlets, fly!
Leave Marmion here alone-to die.»>-
They parted, and alone he lay;
Clare drew her from the sight away,
Fill pain wrung forth a lowly moan.
And half he murmur'd,« Is there none,

Of all my halls have nurst,

Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring
Of blessed water from the spring,
To slake my dying thirst!»—.

XXX.

O, Woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade

By the light quivering aspen made,-
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!-

Scarce were the piteous accents said,
casque, the maid

When, with the baron's

To the nigh streamlet ran:

Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears,
The plaintive voice alone she hears,

Sees but the dying man.

She stoop'd her by the runnel's side,

But in abhorrence backward drew; For, oozing from the mountain's side, Where raged the war, a dark-red tide

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. Where shall she turn?-behold her mark A little fountain cell,

Where water, clear as diamond-spark,
In a stone basin fell.

Above some half-worn letters say,
DRINK. WEARY. PILGRIM. DRINK. AND. PRAY.
FOR. THE. KIND. SOUL. OF. SYBIL. GREY.

WHO. BUILT. THIS. CROSS. AND. WELL.
She fill'd the helm, and back she hied,
And with surprise and joy espied

A monk supporting Marmion's head;
A pious man, whom duty brought
To dubious verge of battle fought,

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead.

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Lord Marmion started from the ground,
As light as if he felt no wound;
Though in the action burst the tide,
In torrents from his wounded side.

« Then it was truth!»-he said-«-I knew
That the dark presage must be true.-
I would the fiend, to whom belongs
The vengeance due to all her wrongs,
Would spare me but a day!
For wasting fire, and dying groan,
And priests slain on the altar stone,

Might bribe him for delay.

It may not be!-this dizzy trance-
Curse on yon base marauder's lance,
And doubly cursed my failing brand!
A sinful heart makes feeble hand.»-
Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk,
Supported by the trembling monk.

XXXII.

With fruitless labour, Clara bound,

And strove to staunch, the gushing wound:
The monk, with unavailing cares,
Exhausted all the church's prayers.

Ever, he said, that, close and near,

A lady's voice was on his ear,

And that the priest he could not hear,

For that she ever sung,

« In the lost battle, borne down by the flying,

Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!»

So the notes rung;-

«Avoid thee, fiend!--with cruel hand,
Shake not the dying sinner's sand!-

O look, my son, upon yon sign
Of the Redeemer's grace divine;
O think on faith and bliss!--
By many a death-bed I have been,
And many a sinner's parting seen,
But never aught like this.»>
The war, that for a space did fail,
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale,
And-STANLEY! was the cry ;-
light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye:
With dying hand, above his licad,
He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted « Victory!—
Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!»>
Were the last words of Marmion.

XXXIII.

By this, though deep the evening fell,
Still rose the battle's deadly swell,
For still the Scots, around their king,
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring.
Where's now their victor va'ward wing,
Where Huntley, and where Home?
O for a blast of that dread horn,
On Fontarabian echoes borne,

That to King Charles did come,
When Rowland brave, and Olivier,
And every paladin and peer,

On Roncesvalles died!

Such blast might warn them, not in vain,

To quit the plunder of the slain,

And turn the doubtful day again,
While yet on Flodden side,
Afar the royal standard flies,

And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies,
Our Caledonian pride!
In vain the wish-for, far away,
While spoil and havoc mark their way,
Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray.—
«O, lady,» cried the monk, « away!»-
And placed her on her steed,
And led her to the chapel fair

Of Tilmouth upon Tweed.

There all the night they spent in prayer,
And, at the dawn of morning, there
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.
XXXIV.

But as they left the darkening heath,
More desperate grew the strife of death.
The English shafts in vollies hail'd,
In headlong charge their horse assail'd;
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep,
To break the Scottish circle deep,

That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow,

Unbroken was the ring:

The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,

Each stepping where his comrade stood,

The instaut that he fell.

No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight,

Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;

Till utter darkness elosed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shatter'd bands;
And from the charge they drew,

As mountain-waves, from wasted lands,
Sweep back to ocean blue.

Then did their loss his foeman know;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest, low,
They melted from the field as snow,

When streams are swoln and south winds blow,
Dissolves in silent dew.

Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,

While many a broken band, Disorder'd, through her currents dash,

To gain the Scottish land;

To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, tune, and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong;
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife and carnage drear
Of Flodden's fatal field,

Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear,
And broken was her shield!

XXXV.

Day dawns upon the mountain's side:There, Scotland! lay thy bravest pride,

Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one,
The sad survivors, all are gone.-
View not that corpse mistrustfully,
Defaced and mangled though it be;
Nor to yon Border castle high
Look northward with upbraiding eye; (17)
Nor cherish hope in vain,

That, journeying far on foreign strand,
The royal pilgrim to his land

May yet return again.

He saw the wreck his rashness wrought; Reckless of life, he desperate fought,

And fell on Flodden plain :

And well in death his trusty brand,
Firm clencli'd within his manly hand,

Beseem'd the monarch slain.

But, O! how changed since yon blithe night!-
Gladly I turn me from the sight,
Unto my tale again.

XXXVI.

Short is my tale :-Fitz-Eustace' care
A pierced and mangled body bare
To moated Lichfield's lofty pile;
And there, beneath the southern aisle,
A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair,
Did long Lord Marmion's image bear.
(Now vainly for its site you look;
"T was levell'd, when fanatic Brook
The fair cathedral storm'd and took ; (18)
But, thanks to Heaven, and good Saint Chad,

A guerdon meet the spoiler had!)
There erst was martial Marmion found,
Ilis feet upon a couchant hound,

His hands to heaven upraised;
And all around, on scutcheon rich,
And tablet carved, and fretted nichie,
His arms and feats were blazed.
And yet, though all was carved so fair,
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer,
The last Lord Marmion lay not there.
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain
Follow'd his lord to Flodden plain,-
One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay
In Scotland mourns as «<wede away.»
Sore wounded, Sybil's cross he spied,
And dragg'd him to its foot and died,
Close by the noble Marmion's side.
The spoilers stripp'd and gash'd the slain,
And thus their corpses were mista'en;
And thus, in the proud baron's tomb,
The lowly woodsman took the room,
XXXVII.

Less easy task it were, to show
Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low.
They dug his grave e'en where he lay,
But every mark is gone;
Time's wasting hand has done away
The simple Cross of Sybil Grey,
And broke her font of stone:
But yet from out the little hill
Oozes the slender springlet still.
Oft halts the stranger there,
For thence may best his curious eye
The memorable field descry;

And shepherd boys repair

To seek the water-flag and rush,
And rest them by the hazel-bush,
And plait their garlands fair;
Nor dream they sit upon
the grave

That holds the bones of Marmion brave.-
When thou shalt find the little hill,
With thy heart commune, and be still.
If ever, in temptation strong,

Thou left'st the right path for the wrong:
If every devious step, thus trod,
Still lead thee further from the road;
Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom
On noble Marmion's lowly tomb;
But say, « He died a gallant knight,
With sword in hand, for England's right.»

XXXVIII.

I do not rhyme to that dull elf,
Who cannot image to himself,
That all through Flodden's dismal night,
Wilton was foremost in the fight;
That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain,
'T was Wilton mounted him again;
"T was Wilton's brand that deepest hew'd,
Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood,-
Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall,
He was the living soul of all;

That, after fight, his faith made plain,
He won his rank and lands again,
And charged his old paternal shield
With bearings won on Flodden field.—
Nor sing I to that simple maid,

To whom it must in terms be said,
That king and kinsmen did agree
To bless fair Clara's constancy;
Who cannot, unless I relate,
Paint to her mind the bridal's state;
That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke,
More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke;
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew,
And Catherine's hand the stocking threw :
And afterwards, for many a day,
That it was held enough to say,
In blessing to a wedded pair,

"Love they like Wilton and like Clare!»>

L'ENVOY.

TO THE READER.

Why, then, a final note prolong,
Or lengthen out a closing song,
Unless to bid the gentles speed,
Who long have listed to my rede?' —
To statesmen grave, if such may deign
To read the minstrel's idle strain,
Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit,
And patriotic heart-as PITT!
A garland for the hero's crest,

And twined by her he loves the best;
To every lovely lady bright,
What can I wish but faithful knight?
To every faithful lover too,
What can I wish but lady true?

Used generally for tale, or discourse.

And knowledge to the studious sage,
And pillow to the head of age.
To thee, dear schoolboy, whom my lay
Has cheated of thy hour of play,
Light task and merry holiday!
To all, to each, a fair good night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!

NOTES.

CANTO I.

Note 1. Introduction.

As when the Champion of the Lake
Enters Morgana's fated house,

Or in the Chapel Perilous,

Despising spells and demons' force,

Holds converse with the unburied corse.

The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridgement of the most celebrated adventures of the Round Table; and, being written in comparatively modern language, gives the general reader an excellent idea of what romances of chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of being written in pure old English; and many of the wild adventures which it contains are told with a simplicity bordering upon the sublime. Several of these are referred to in the text; and I would have illustrated them by more full extracts, but as this curious work is about to be published, I confine myself to the tale of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after the Sangreal.

Right so Sir Launcelot departed; and when he came to the Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as soon as he was within the church-yard, he saw, on the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields turned upside downe, and many of the shields Sir Launcelot had seene knights have before; with that he saw stand by him thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever he had seene, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot ; and when he saw their countenance, hee dread them sore, and so put his shield afore him, and tooke his sword in his hand, ready to doe battaile; and they were all armed in black harneis, ready, with their shields and swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone through them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way; and therewith he waxed all bold, and entered into the chapell, and then hee saw no light but a dimme lampe burning, and then was hee ware of a corps covered with a cloath of silke; then Sir Launcelot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloath away, and then it fared under him as if the earth had quaked a little, whereof he was afeared, and then he saw a faire sword lye by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied him out of the chapell. As soon as he was in the chappell-yerd, all the knights spoke to him with a grimly voice, and said, Knight Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die.' Whether I live or die,' said Sir Launcelot, with no great words get yee it againe, therefore fight for it, and yee list. Therewith he passed through them; and, beyond the chappell-yerd, there met him a fair damosel, and said, Sir Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it.'

'I will not leave it,' said Sir

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Launcelot, for no threats.' "No! said she; and ye did leave that sword, Queene Guenever should ye never 'Then were I foole and I would leave this sword,' said Sir Launcelot. Now, gentle knight,' said the damosel, I require thee to kisse me once.' Nay,' said Sir Launcelot, that God forbid! Well, sir,' said she, and thou haddest kissed me, thy life dayes had been done; but now, alas! said she, I have lost all my labour; for I ordained this chappell for thy sake, and for Sir Gawaine: and once I had Sir Gawaine within it; and at that time he fought with that knight which thare lieth dead in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert the bastard, and at that time hee smote off Sir Gilbert the bastard's left hand. And so, Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seaven yeare; but there may no woman have thy love but Queen Guenever; but sithen I may not rejoice to have thy body alive, I had kept no more joy in this world but to have had thy dead body; and I would have balmed it and served, and so have kept it my life daies, and daily I should have clipped thee, and kissed thee, in the despite of Queene Guenever. Yee say well,' said Sir Launcelot; Jesus preserve me from your subtill craft! And therewith he took his horse, and departed from her.»

Note 2. Introduction.

A sinful man, and unconfess'd,
He took the Sangreal's holy quest,
And, slumbering, saw the vision high,
He might not view with waking eye.

laced his helme, and ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his shield before the crosse.

<< And so he fell on sleepe, and halfe waking and halfe sleeping, hee saw come by him two palfreys, both faire and white, the which beare a litter, therein lying a sicke knight. And when he was nigh the crosse, he there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for hee slept not verily, and hee heard him say, Oh sweete Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessell come by me, where through I shall be blessed, for I have endured thus long for little trespasse.' And thus a great while complained the knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. With that, Sir Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire tapers, come before the crosse; but he could see no body that brought it. Also, there came a table of silver, and the holy vessell of the Sancgreall, the which Sir Launcelot had seen before that time in King Petchour's house. And therewithall the sicke knight set him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, 'Faire sweete Lord, which is here within the holy vessell, take heede to mee, that I may bee hole of this great malady.' And therewith upon his hands, and upon his knees, he went so nigh, that he touched the holy vessell, and kissed it: And anon he was hole, and then he said, 'Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this malady.' So when the holy vessell had been there a great while, it went into the chappell againe with the candlesticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not where it became, for he was overtaken with sinne, that hee had no power to arise against the holy vessell, wherefore afterward many men said of him shame, But he tooke repentance afterward. Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire brought him his armes, and asked his lord how he did.

One day, when Arthur was holding a high feast with his Knights of the Round Table, the Sangreal, or vessel out of which the last passover was eaten, a precious relic, which had long remained concealed from human eyes, because of the sins of the land, suddenly appeared to him and all his chivalry. The consequence of this vision was, that all the knights took on them a solemn vow to seek the Sangreal. But, alas! it could only be revealed to a knight at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure and guiltless of evil conversation. All Sir Launcelot's noble accomplishments were therefore rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guenever, or Ganore; and in this holy quest he encountered only such disgraceful disasters, as that which fol-whatsoever he be, he is unhappie; for, as I deeme, he lows:

« But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him; and at the last, he came unto a stone crosse, which departed two wayes, in wast land; and by the crosse, was a stone that was of marble; but it was so darke, that Sir Launcelot might not well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old chappell, and there he wend to have found people. And so Sir Launcelot tied his horse to a tree, and there hee put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree, and then hee went unto the chappell door, and found it wasted and broken. And within he found a faire altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candlesticke, which beare six great candles, and the candlesticke was of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great will for to enter into the chappell, but he could find no place where he might enter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then he returned, and came againe to his horse, and tooke off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture, and un

Certainly,' said hee, 'I thanke God, right heartily, for through the holy vessell I am healed: But I have right great mervaile of this sleeping knight which hath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that this holy vessell hath beene here present.' 'I dare it right well say,' said the squire, that this same knight is defouled with some manner of deadly sinne, whereof he has never confessed. By my faith,' said the knight,

is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of the Sancgreall.' 'Sir,' said the squire, here I have brought you all your armes, save your helme and your sword; and therefore, by mine assent, now may ye take this knight's helme and his sword,' and so he did. And when he was cleane armed, he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his owne, and so they departed from the crosse.

<< Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe upright, and he thought him what hee had there scene, and whether it were dreames or not; right so he heard a voice that said, Sir Launcelot, more harde than is the stone, and more bitter than is the wood, and more naked and bare than is the liefe of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place; and when Sir Launcelot heard this, hee was passing heavy, and wit not what to doe. And so he departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was borne; for then he deemed never to have had more worship; for the words went unto his heart, till that he knew wherefore that hee was so called.>>

Note 3. Introduction.

And Dryden, In immortal strain,
Had raised the Table Round again,

But that a ribald king and court
Bade him toil on to make them sport;
Demanded for their niggard pay,

Fit for their souls, a looser lay,
Licentious satire, song, and play.
Dryden's melancholy account of his projected Epic
Poem, blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of
his patrons, is contained in an « Essay on Satire,» ad-
dressed to the Earl of Dorset, and prefixed to the Trans-
lation of Juvenal. After mentioning a plan of supply-

ing machinery from the guardian angels of kingdoms,

mentioned in the book of Daniel, he adds:

Lothly he was to look on than,
And liker a devil than a man.
His staff was a young oak,

Hard and heavy was his stroke.

Specimens of Metrical Romances, vol. H, p. 136.

I am happy to say, that the memory of Sir Bevis is still fragrant in his town of Southampton; the gate of which is centinelled by the effigies of that doughty knight-errant, and his gigantic associate.

Note 5, Stanza i.

Day set on Norham's castled steep,

And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, etc.

Edward I. resided there

bandford), is situated on the southern bank of the The ruinous castle of Norham (anciently called Ub« Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given Tweed, about six miles above Berwick, and where that your lordship, and by you the world, a rude draft of river is still the boundary between England and Scotwhat I have been long labouring in my imagination, and land. The extent of its ruins, as well as its historical what I had intended to have put in practice (though importance, shows it to have been a place of magnififar unable for the attempt of such a poem), and to have cence, as well as strength. left the stage, to which my genius never much inclined when he was created umpire of the dispute concerning the Scottish succession. It was repeatedly taken and me, for a work which would have taken up my life in the performance of it. This, too, I had intended chiefly retaken during the wars between England and Scotland, for the honour of my native country, to which a poet and, indeed, scarce any happened, in which it had not is particularly obliged. Of two subjects, both relating a principal share. Norham Castle is situated on a to it, I was doubtful whether I should chuse that of steep bank, which overhangs the river. The repeated King Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, being far-sieges which the castle had sustained rendered frequent ther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my in-repairs necessary. In 1164 it was almost rebuilt by vention; or that of Edward the Black Prince, in subduing Spain, and restoring it to the lawful prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the Gruel; which, for the compass of time, including only the expedition of one year, for the greatness of the action, and its answerable event, for the magnanimity of the English hero, opposed to the ingratitude of the person whom he restored, and for the many beautifu! episodes which I had interwoven with the principal design, together with the characters of the chiefest English persons (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken occasion to represent my living friends and patrons of the noblest families, and also shadowed the events of future ages in the succession of our imperial line),-with these helps, and those of the machines which I have mentioned, I might perhaps have done as well as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked out a way for others to amend my errors in a like design; but being encouraged only with According to Mr Pinkerton, there is, in the British fair words by King Charles II., my little salary ill paid, Museum, Cal. B. VI. 216, a curious memoir of the Daand no prospect of a future subsistence, I was then dis-cres on the state of Norham Castle in 1522, not long couraged in the beginning of my attempt; and now age has overtaken me, and want, a more insufferable evil, through the change of the times, has wholly dis

abled me.»

Note 4. Introduction.
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold.

The History of Bevis of Hampton» is abridged by my friend Mr George Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts amusement even out of the most rude and unpromising of our old tales of chivalry. Ascapart, a most important personage in the romance, is thus de

scribed in an extract:

This geaunt was mighty and strong,
And full thirty foot was long.

He was bristled like a sow;

A foot he had between each brow;

His lips were great, and hung aside;

His eyen were hollow; his mouth was wide.

ugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, who added a huge keep, or donjon; notwithstanding which, King Henry II. in 1174, took the castle from the Bishop, and committed the keeping of it to William de Neville. After this period it seems to have been chiefly garrisoned by the king, and considered as a royal fortress. The Greys of Chillinghame Castle were frequently the castellans, or captains of the garrison: yet, as the castle was situated in the patrimony of St Cuthbert, the property was in the see of Durham till the Reformation. After that period it passed through various hands. At the union of the crowns, it was in the possession of Sir Robert Carey (afterwards Earl of Monmouth), for his own life, and that of two of his sons. After King James's accession, Carey sold Norham Castle to George Home, Earl of Dunbar, for 6000l. See his curious Memoirs, published by Mr Constable of Edinburgh.

after the battle of Flodden. The inner ward, or keep, is represented as impregnable: « The provisions are three great vats of salt eels, forty-four kine, three hogsheads of salted salmon, forty quarters of grain, besides many cows, and four hundred sheep lying under the castle-wall nightly; but a number of the arrows wanted feathers, and a good fletcher (i. e. maker of arrows) was required.»-History of Scotland, vol. II, p. 201. Note.

The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well as picturesque. They consist of a large shattered tower, with many vaults and fragments of other edifices, inclosed within an outward wall of great circuit.

Note 6. Stanza i.

-the doujon keep.

It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the donjon, in its proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal castle; a high square tower,

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