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MARMION.
3. 1Romante;
IN SIX CANTOS.


---- ----


MARMION:
A TALE
OF FLO DDEN FIELD.
BY
WALTER SCOTT, Esq.
THE SECOND EDITION.
Alas ! that Scottish Maid should sing
The combat where her lover fell /
That Scottish Bard should wake the string,
The triumph of our foes to tell /—LEYDEN. **
-
FIDIN BURGH .
PRI NTED BY J. BALLANTYNE AND Co.
FOR ARCHIBALD constABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH ;
AND WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE-STREET,
AND John MURRAY, LONDON.
1808.


General Library System
University of Wisconsin - Madison
728 State Street
Madison, WI 53706-1494
U.S.A.


tºº
53 ||
H
20%p
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY,
LORD MONTAGU,
&c. &c. &c.
THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED
BY
THE AUTHOR.





s
ADVERTISEMENT.
IT is hardly to be expected, that an Author, whom the
Public has honoured with some degree of applause, should
not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author
of MARMion must be supposed to feel some anxiety concern-
ing its success, since he is sensible that he hazards, by this se-
cond intrusion, any repulation which his first Poem may have
procured him. The present Story turns upon the private ad-
ventures of a fictitious character ; but is called a Tale of
Flodden Field, because the hero’s fate is connected with that
memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The de-
sign of the Author was, if possible, to apprize his readers, at
the outset, of the date of his Story, and to prepare them for
the manners of the Age in which it is laid. Any Historical
narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition, exceeded
his plan of a Romantic Tale; yet he may be permitted to
hope, from the popularity of The LAY of the LAST MIN-
STREL, that an attempt to paint the manners of the feudal
times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of a more in-
teresting story, will not be unacceptable to the Public.
The Poem opens about the commencement of August, and
concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 4th September, 1513.


----
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----- → ！ ！！ ！！
----
*
№º！！！ -


CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Introduction to Canto I... To WILLIAM STEwART Rosic, Esq. 1
CANTO I. THE CASTLE, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Introduction to Canto II.. To the Rev. JoHN MARRIot, M.A. 57
II. THE ConVENT, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
Introduction to Canto III. To WILLIAM Enski NE, Esq. ... 115
III. THE HosTEL, or INN, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Introduction to Canto IV. To JAMEs SKENE, Esq. . . . . . . 169
IV. THE CAMP, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
Introduction to Canto V. . To GeoRGE ELL1s, Esq. . . . . . . 225
V. THE Court, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
Introduction to Canto WI.. To Rich ARD HEBER, Esq. . . . .297
VI. THE BATTLE, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313
º
Motes to Canto First . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i
Canto Second . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxxiii
Canto Third . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iv
Canto Fourth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . lxy
- Canto Fifth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . lxxix
". Canto Sixth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xcix
-





To
WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esq.
... .
Ashestiel, Euricke Forest.
November's sky is chill and drear, ... .
November's leaf is red and sear:
Late, gazing down the steepy linn,
That hems our little garden in,
Low in its dark and narrow glen,
You scarce the rivulet might ken,
So thick the tangled green-wood grew,
So feeble trilled the streamlet through:
Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen
Through bush and brier, no longer green,
*


4 INTRODUCTION
An angry brook, it sweeps the glade,
Brawls over rock and wild cascade,
And, foaming brown with doubled speed,
Hurries its waters to the Tweed.
No longer Autumn's glowing red
Upon our Forest hills is shed;
No more, beneath the evening beam,
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam;
Away hath passed the heather-bell,
That bloomed so rich on Needpath-fell;
Sallow his brow, and russet bare
Are now the sister-heights of Yare.
The sheep, before the pinching heaven,
To sheltered dale and down are driven,
Where yet some faded herbage pines,
And yet a watery sun-beam shines :
In meek despondency they eye
The withered sward and wintry sky,
:


TO CANTO FIRST. 5
*
And far beneath their summer hill,
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill:
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold,
And wraps him closer from the cold;
His dogs no merry circles wheel,
But, shivering, follow at his heel;
A cowering glance they often cast,
As deeper moans the gathering blast.
My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild,
As best befits the mountain child,
Feel the sad influence of the hour, , ,
And wail the daisy's vanished flower;
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn,
And anxious ask, Will spring return,
And birds and lambs again be gay,
And blºom, clothe the hawthorn spray? .
Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower
Again shall paint your summer bower;


6 1NTRODUCTION
Again the hawthom shall supply
The garlands you delight to tie;
The lambs upon the lea shall bound,
The wild birds carol to the round,
And while you frolic light as they,
Too short shall seem the summer day.
To mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings;
The genial call dead Nature hears,
And in her glory re-appears.
But Oh! my country's wintry state
What second spring shall renovate *
What powerful call shall bid arise
The buried warlike, and the wise;
The mind, that thought for Britain's weal,
The hand, that grasped the victor steel?
The vernal sun new life bestows
Even on the meanest flower that blows;
f -
i.
|§-


TO. CANTO FIRST.
But vainly, vainly, may he shine,
Where Glory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine;
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom,
That shrouds, O PITT, thy hallowed tomb!
Deep graved in every British heart,
O never let those names depart!
Say to your sons,—Lo, here his grave,
Who victor died on Gadite wave;
To him, as to the burning levin,
Short, bright, resistless course was given;
Where'er his country's foes were found,
Was heard the fated thunder's sound,
Till burst the bolt on yonder shore,
Rolled, blazed, destroyed,—and was no more.
, Nor mourn ye less his perished worth,
Who bade the conqueror go forth,
And launched that thunderbolt of war
On Egypt, Hamia,” Trafalgar;
* Copenhagen.


8 INTRODUCTION
Who, born to guide such high emprize,
For Britain's weal was early wise;
Alas! to whom the Almighty gave,
For Britain's sins, an early grave;
His worth, who, in his mightiest hour,
A bauble held the pride of power,
Spurned at the sordid lust of pelf,
And served his Albion for herself;
Who, when the frantic crowd amain
Strained at subjection's bursting rein,
O'er their wild mood full conquest gained,
The pride, he would not crush, restrained,
Shewed their fierce zeal a worthier cause,
And brought the freeman's arm to aid the free-
man's laws.
Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd of power,
A watchman on the lonely tower,
Thy thrilling trump had roused the land,
When fraud or danger were at hand;
-


TO CANTO FIRST. 9
By thee, as by the beacon-light,
Our pilots had kept course aright;
As some proud column, though alone,
Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne.
Now is the stately column broke,
The beacon-light is quenched in smoke,
The trumpet's silver sound is still,
The warder silent on the hill!
Oh, think, how to his latest day,
When Death, just hovering, claimed his prey,
With Palinure's unaltered mood,
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repelled,
With dying hand the rudder held,
Till, in his fall, with fateful sway,
The steerage of the realm gave way!
Then, while on Britain's thousand plains,
One mºlluted church remains,
Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound,


1() INTRODUCTION
But still, upon the hallowed day,
Convoke the swains to praise and pray;
While faith and civil peace are dear,
Grace this cold marble with a tear,
He, who preserved them, PITT, lies here !
Nor yet suppress the generous sigh,
Because his Rival slumbers nigh;
Nor be thy requiescat dumb,
Leslit be said o'er Fox's tomb.
For talents mourn, untimely lost,
When best employed, and wanted most;
Mourn genius high, and lore profound,
And wit that loved to play, not wound;
And all the reasoning powers divine,
To penetrate, resolve, combine;
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow,
They sleep with him who sleeps below:
And, if thou mourn'st they could not save
From error him who owns this grave,
Be every harsher thought suppressed,
And sacred be the last long rest.


TO CANTO FIRST. 11
Here, where the end of earthly things
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings;
where stiff the hand, and still the tongue,
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung;
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong
The distant notes of holy song,
As if some angel spoke agen,
All peace on earth, good-will to men;
If ever from an English heart,
O here let prejudice depart,
And, partial feeling cast aside,
Record, that Fox a Briton died
When Europe crouched to France's yoke,
And Austria bent, and Prussia broke,
And the firm Russian's purpose brave
Was bartered by a timorous slave,
Even then dishonour's peace he spurned,
The sullied olive-branch returned,
Stood for his country's glory fast,
And nailed her colours to the mast.


12 INTRODUCTION
Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave
A portion in this honoured grave;
And ne'er held marble in its trust
Of two such wonderous men the dust.
With more than mortal powers endowed,
How high they soared above the crowd
Theirs was no common party race,
Jostling by dark intrigue for place;
Like fabled Gods, their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Looked up the noblest of the land,
Till through the British world were known
The names of PITT and Fox alone.
Spells of such force no wizard grave
E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave,
Though his could drain the ocean dry,
And force the planets from the sky.
These spells are spent, and, spent with these,
The wine of life is on the lees.


TO CANTO FIRST. 13
Genius, and taste, and talent gone,
For ever tombed beneath the stone,
Where, taming thought to human pride!—
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
"Twill trickle to his rival's bier;
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry,
“Here let their discord with them die;
“Speak not for those a separate doom,
“Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb,
* But search the land of living men,
“Where wilt thou find their like agen?”
Rest, ardent Spirits! till the cries
Of dying Nature bid you rise;
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce
The leaden silence of your hearse:
Then, O how impotent and vain
This grateful tributary strain!


14 INTRODUCTION .
Though not unmarked from northern clime,
Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme:
His Gothic harp has o'er you rung;
The bard you deigned to praise, your deathless
names has sung.
Stay yet, illusion, stay a while,
My wildered fancy still beguile!
From this high theme how can I part,
Ere half unloaded is my heart!.
For all the tears e'er sorrow drew,
And all the raptures fancy knew,
And all the keener rush of blood,
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood,
Were here a tribute mean and low,
Though all their mingled streams could flow—
Woe, wonder, and sensation high,
In one spring-tide of ecstacy-
It will not be—it may not last—
The vision of enchantment's past:


TO CANTO FIRST. 15
Like frost-work in the morning ray,
The fancied fabric melts away;
Each Gothic arch, memorial stone,
And long, dim, lofty aisle are gone,
And, lingering last, deception dear,
The choir's high sounds die on my ear.
Now slow return the lonely down,
The silent pastures bleak and brown,
The farm begirt with copse-wood wild,
The gambols of each frolic child,
Mixing their shrill cries with the tone
. Of Tweed's dark waters rushing on.
Prompt on unequal tasks to run,
Thus Nature disciplines her son:
Meeter, she says, for me to stray,
And waste the solitary day,
In plucking from yon fen the reed,
And watching it float down the Tweed;
Or idly list the shrilling lay
With which the milk-maid cheers her way,
8


16 INTRODUCTION
Marking its cadence rise and fail,
As from the field, beneath her pail,
She trips it down the uneven dale:
Meeter for me, by yonder cairn,
The ancient shepherd's tale to learn,
Though oft he stop in rustic fear,
Lest his old legends tire the ear
Of one, who, in his simple mind,
May boast of book-learned taste refined.
But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell,
(For few have read romance so well)
How still the legendary lay
O'er poet's bosom holds its sway;
How on the ancient minstrel strain
Time lays his palsied hand in vain;
And how our hearts at doughty deeds,
By warriors wrought in steely weeds,
Still throb for fear and pity's sake;
As when the Champion of the Lake
2


To CANTO FIRST. 17
Enters Morgana's fated house, .
Or in the Chapel Perilous,
Despising spells and demons' force,
Holds converse with the unburied corse;
Or when, Dame Ganore's grace to move,
(Alas! that lawless was their love)
He sought proud Tarquin in his den,
And freed full sixty knights; or when,
A sinful man, and unconfessed,
He took the Sangreal's holy quest,
And, slumbering, saw the vision high,
He might not view with waking eye.
The mightiest chiefs of British song
Scorned not such legends to prolong:
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream,
And mix in Milton's heavenly theme;
And Dryden, in immortal strain,
Had raised the Table Round again,
B


18 INTRODUCTION
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;
The world defrauded of the high design,
Prophaned the God-given strength, and marred
the lofty line.
Warmed by such names, well may we then,
Though dwindled sons of little men,
Essay to break a feeble lance
In the fair fields of old romance;
Or seek the moated castle's cell,
Where long through talisman and spell,
While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept,
Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept:
There sound the harpings of the North,
Till he awake and sally forth,
11


20 INTRODUCTION, &c.
Ytene's* oaks—beneath whose shade
Their theme the merry minstrels made,
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold,
And that Red King,t who, while of old
Through Boldewood the chase he led,
By his loved huntsman's arrow bled—
Ytene's oaks have heard again
Renewed such legendary strain;
For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul,
That Amadis so famed in hall,
For Oriana, foiled in fight
The Necromancer's felon might;
And well in modern verse hast wove
Partenopex's mystic love:
Hear then, attentive to my lay,
A knightly tale of Albion's elder day.
* The new forest in Hampshire, anciently so called.
t William Rufus.


MARMION.
CANTO FIRST.
Çfie Cagtie,


4


MARMION.
CAN TO FIRST.
Øe Cagtic,
I.
Dax set on Norham's castled steep,
And Tweed’s fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone:
The battled towers, the Donjon Keep,
The loop-hole grates where captive weep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow lustre shone.


24 MARMION. CANTo i.
The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,
Seemed forms of giant height:
Their amon, as it caught the rays,
Flashed back again the western blaze,
In lines of dazzling light.
II.
St George's banner, broad and gay,
Now faded, as the fading ray
Less bright, and less, was flung;
The evening gale had scarce the power
To wave it on the Donjon tower,
So heavily it hung.
The scouts had parted on their search,
The castle gates were barr'd;
Above the gloomy portal arch,
Timing his footsteps to a march,
The warder kept his guard,
Low humming, as he paced along,
Some ancient Border gathering song.


canto Ie THE CASTLE, 25
III.
A distant trampling sound he hears;
He looks abroad, and soon appears,
O'er Horncliff-hill, a plump" of spears,
Beneath a pennon gay;
A horseman, darting from the crowd,
Like lightning from a summer cloud,
Spurs on his mettled courser proud,
Before the dark array.
Beneath the sable palisade,
That closed the castle barricade,
His bugle-horn he blew;
The warder hasted from the wall,
And warned the Captain in the hall,
For well the blast he knew ;
And joyfully that Knight did call,
To sewer, squire, and seneschal.
* This word properly applies to a flight of water-
fowl; but is applied, by analogy, to a body of horse.
There is a Knight of the North Country,
Which leads a lusty plump of spears.
Flodden Field.


26 MARMION. CANTO is
-
IV.
“Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie,
Bring pasties of the doe,
And quickly make the entrance free,
And bid my heralds ready be,
And every minstrel sound his glee,
And all our trumpets blow;
And, from the platform, spare ye not
To fire a noble salvo-shot:
Lord Marmion waits below.”—
Then to the Castle's lower ward
Sped forty yeomen tall,
The iron-studded gates unbarred,
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard,
The lofty palisade unsparred,
And let the draw-bridge fall.
W.
Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode,
Proudly his red-roan charger trod,


canto I. THE CASTLE. 37
His helm hung at the saddle-bow;
Well, by his visage, you might know
He was a stalworth knight, and keen,
And had in many a battle been;
The scar on his brown cheek revealed
A token true of Bosworth field;
His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire,
Shewed spirit proud, and prompt to ire;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek,
Did deep design and counsel speak.
His forehead, by his casque worn bare,
His thick moustache, and curly hair,
Coal-black, and grizzled here and there,
But more through toil than age;
His square-turned joints, and strength of limb,
Shewed him no carpet knight so trim,
But, in close fight, a champion grim,
In camps, a leader sage.


28 MARMION. CAN to I.
VI.
Well was he armed from head to heel,
In mail, and plate, of Milan steel;
But his strong helm, of mighty cost,
Was all with burnish’d gold emboss'd;
Amid the plumage of the crest,
A falcon hovered on her nest,
With wings outspread, and forward breast;
E’en such a falcon, on his shield,
Soared sable in an azure field:
The golden legend bore aright,
“Who chEcks AT ME, To DEATH is Dight.”
Blue was the charger's broidered rein;
Blue ribbons decked his arching mane;
The knightly housing's ample fold
Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold.
VII.
Behind him rode two gallant squires,
Of noble name, and knightly sires;


CANTO I. THE CASTLE, 29
They burned 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 stored,
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 halbard, bill, and battle-axe:
They bore Lord Marmion’s lance so strong,
And led his sumpter mules along,
And ambling palfrey, when at need
Him listed ease his battle-steed.
The last, and trustiest of the four,
on high his forky pennon bore;
Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue,
Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue,


s0 MARMION. Canto I.
Where, blazoned sable, as before,
The towering falcon seemed to soar.
Last, twenty yeomen, two and two,
In hosen black, and jerkins blue,
With falcons broider'd on each breast,
Attended on their lord’s behest.
Each, chosen for an archer good,
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood;
Each one a six-foot bow could bend,
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send;
Each held a boarpen: tough and strong,
And at their belts their quivers rung.
Their dusty palfreys, and array,
Shewed they had marched a weary way.
IX.
'Tis meet that I should tell you now,
How fairly armed, and ordered how,
The soldiers of the guard,


CANTO I. THE CASTLE. 31
With musquet, pike, and morion,
To welcome noble Marmion,
Stood in the Castle-yard;
Minstrels and trumpeters were there,
The gunner held his linstock yare,
For welcome-shot prepared:—
Entered the train, and such a clang,
As then through all his turrets rang,
Old Norham never heard.
X.
The guards their morrice-pikes advanced,
The trumpets flourished brave,
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.


32 MARMION. CANTo I.
º
lº
“Welcome to Norham, Marmion!
Stout heart, and open hand 1
Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan,
Thou flower of English land!”—
XI.
Two pursuivants, whom tabards 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 hailed Lord Marmion:
They hailed 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.
10


can To I. THE CASTLE. 33
“Now largesse, largesse,” Lord Marmion,
Knight of the crest of gold
A blazon'd shield, in battle won,
Ne'er guarded heart so bold.”—
XII.
They marshall'd him to the castle-hall,
Where the guests stood all aside,
And loudly flourished 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 ladye-love,
And to the king his land. *::
* The cry by which the heralds expressed their thanks
for the bounty of the nobles.
C


34 MARMION. CANTO I.
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;
Aud on the gibbet-tree, reversed,
His foeman's scutcheon tied.
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight!
Room, room, ye gentles gay,
For him who conquered in the right,
Marmion of Fontenaye"—
XIII.
Then stepped to meet that noble lord,
Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford,
And Captain of the Hold.
He led Lord Marmion to the deas,
Raised o'er the pavement high,
11


36 MARMION. sawro 1.
I pray you bide some little space,
In this poor tower with me.
Here may you 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,
And love to couch a spear;--
St George! a stirring life they lead,
That have ach neighbours near.
Then stay with us a little space,
Our northern wars to learn;
I pray you for your lady's grace.”— .
Lord Marmion’s brow grew stern.
XV.
The Captain mark'd his altered look, -
And gave a squire the sign;
A mighty wassell bowl he took,
And crown'd it high with wine. -


c.Anto I. THE CASTLE. 37
“Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion:
But first I pray thee fair,
Where hast thou left that page of thine,
That used 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 marked his cheeks were wet
With tears he fain would hide:
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand,
To burnish shield, or sharpen brand,
Or saddle battle-steed;
But meeter seemed for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare, .
The slender silk to lead :
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,
His bosom—when he sigh'd,
The russet doublet's rugged fold
Could scarce repel its pride!


38 MARMION. CANTo r.
Say, hast thou given that lovely youth
To serve in lady's bower?
Or was the gentle page, in sooth,
A gentle paramour?”—
XVI.
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 would'st learn,
I left him sick in Lindisfarn:
Enough of him.—But, Heron, say,
Why does thy lovely lady gay
Disdain to grace the hall to-day
Or has that dame, so fair and sage,
Gone on some pious pilgrimage?”—
*


CANTo I. THE CASTLE. 39
i
!
He spoke in covert scorn, for fame
Whispered light tales of Heron's dame.
XVII.
Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt,
Careless the Knight replied,
“No bird, whose feathers gayly flaunt,
Delights in cage to bide:
Norham is grim, and grated close,
Hemmed in by battlement and fosse,
And many a darksome tower;
And better loves my lady bright,
To sit in liberty and light,
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 tired her wing”—


40 MARMION CAN to I.
XVIII.
“Nay, if with Royal James's bride
The lovely Lady Heron bide,
Behold me here a messenger,
Your tender greetings prompt to bear;
For, to the Scottish court addressed,
I journey at our king's behest,
And pray you, of your grace, provide
For me, and mine, a trusty guide.
*
I have not ridden in Scotland since
James backed the cause of that mock prince,
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat.
Then did I march with Surrey's power,
What time we razed old Ayton tower.”—
XIX.
“For such like need, my lord, I trow,
Norham can find you guides enow;


CANTO I. THE CASTLE. 41
For here be some have pricked 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
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil,
Break out in some unseemly broil:


42 MARMION. CANºro I.
A herald were my fitting guide;
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;
Or pardoner, or travelling priest,
Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.”-
XXI.
The Captain mused a little space,
And passed his hand across his face.
—“Fain would I find the guide you want,
But ill may spare a pursuivant,
The only men that safe can ride
Mine errands on the Scottish side.
Then, though a bishop built this fort,
Few holy brethren here resort;
Even our good chaplain, as I ween,
Since our last siege, we have not seen:
The mass he might not sing or say,
Upon one stinted meal a day;
So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,
And prayed for our success the while.


gANTO I, THE CASTLE. 43
Our Norham vicar, woe betide,
Is all too well in case to ride.
The priest of Shoreswood—he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train;
But then, no spearman in the hall
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man;
A blithesome brother at the can,
A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,
In which the wine and ale is good,
"Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.
But that good man, as ill befalls,
Hath seldom left our castle walls,
Since on the vigil of St Bede,
In evil hour, he crossed the Tweed,
To teach Dame Alison her creed.
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife;
And John, an enemy to strife,
Sans frock and hood, fled for his life,


44 MARMION. c.Anto i.
The jealous churl hath deeply swore,
That, if again he ventures o'er,
He shall shrieve penitent no more.
Little he loves such risques, I know;
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go.”—
XXII.
Young Selby, at the fair hall-board,
Carved to his uncle, and that lord,
And reverently took up the word.
“ Kind uncle, woe were we each one,
If harm should hap to Brother John.
He is a man of mirthful speech,
Can many a game and gambol teach;
Full well at tables can he play,
And sweep at bowls the stake away.
None can a lustier carol bawl,
The needfullest among us all,
When time hangs heavy in the hall,


CANTO I, THE CASTLE. 45
--
/
And snow comes thick at Christmas tide,
And we can neither hunt, nor ride
A foray on the Scottish side.
The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude,
May end in worse than lon of hood.
Let Friar John, in safety, still
In chimney-corner snore his fill,
Roast hissing crabs, or flaggons swill:
Last night, to Norham there came one,
Will better guide Lord Marmion.”—
* Nephew,” quoth Heron, “by my fay,
Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say.”—
XXIII,
* Here is a holy Palmer come,
From Salem first, and last from Rome;
One, that hath kissed the blessed tomb,
And visited each holy shrine,
In Araby and Palestine;


46 MARMION. CANTo I,
On hills of Armenie hath been,
Where Noah's ark may yet be seen;
By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod,
Which parted at the prophet's rod;
In Sinai's wilderness he saw
The Mount, where Israel heard the law,
Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin,
And shadows, mists, and darkness, given.
He shews 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 played.


48 MARMION. CANTO I,
I love such holy ramblers; still
They know to charm a weary hill,
With song, romance, or lay:
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,
Some lying legend at the lest,
They bring to cheer the way.”—
XXVI,
“Ah! noble sir,” young Selby said,
And finger on his lip he laid,
“This man knows much, perchance e'en more
Than he could learn by holy lore.
Still to himself he's muttering,
And shrinks as at some unseen thing.
Last night we listened at his cell;
Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell,
He murmured on till morn, howe'er
No living mortal could be near.
Sometimes I thought I heard it plain,
As other voices spoke again.
2


canto Ie THE CASTLE, - 49
I cannot tell—I like it not—
Friar John hath told us it is wrote,
* No conscience clear, and void of wrong,
Can rest awake, and pray so long.
Himself still sleeps before his beads
Have marked ten aves, and two creeds.”—
XXVII.
“—Let pass,” quoth Marmion; “by my fay,
This man shall guide me on my way,
Although the great arch-fiend and he
Had sworn themselves of company;
So please you, gentle youth, to call
This Palmer to the castle-hall"—
The summoned Palmer came in place;
His sable cowl o'erhung his face;
In his black mantle was he clad,
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red,
On his broad shoulders wrought;
D


50 MARMION. - CANTO I.
The scallop shell his cap did deck;
The crucifix around his neck
Was from Loretto brought;
His sandals were with travel tore,
Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore;
The faded palm-branch in his hand,
Shewed pilgrim from the Holy Land.
XXVIII.
Whenas the Palmer came in hall,
Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall,
Or had a statelier step withal, . -
Or looked more high and keen;
For no saluting did he wait,
But strode across the hall of state,
And fronted Marmion where he sate,
As he his peer had been.
But his gaunt frame wn. worn with toil;
His cheek was sunk, alas the while!
8


CANTO I. THE CASTLE's 51
And when he struggled at a smile,
His eye looked haggard wild.
Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,
If she had been in presence there,
In his wan face, and sun-burned hair,
She had not known her child.
Danger, long travel, want, or woe,
Soon change the form that best we know—
For deadly fear can time outgo,
And blaunch at once the hair;
Hard toil can roughen form and face,
And want can quench the eye's bright grace,
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace,
More deeply than despair.
Happy whom none of these befall,
But this poor Palmer knew them all.
XXIX.
Lord Marmion then his boon did ask;
The Palmer took on him the task,


52 MARMION. CANTo I.
So he would march with morning tide,
To Scottish court to be his guide.
—“But I have solemn vows to pay,
And may not linger by the way,
To fair Saint Andrew's bound,
Within the ocean-cave to pray,
Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,
From midnight to the dawn of day,
Sung to the billows’ sound;
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore:—
Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring
Could back to peace my bosom bring,
Or bid it throb no more "—
XXX.
And now the midnight draught of sleep,
Where wine and spices richly steep,


cANTo I. THE CASTLE. 53
In massive bowl of silver deep,
The page presents on knee.
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest,
The Captain pledged his noble guest,
The cup went through among the rest,
Who drained it merrily;
Alone the Palmer passed it by,
Though Selby pressed him courteously.
This was the sign the feast was o'er;
It hushed the merry wassel roar,
The minstrels ceased to sound.
Soon in the castle nought was heard,
But the slow footstep of the guard, -
-
Pacing his sober round.
XXXI.
With early dawn Lord Marmion rose:
And first the chapel doors unclose;


54 MARMION. CAN to i.
Then, after morning rites were done,
(A hasty mass from Friar John)
And knight and squire had broke their fast,
On rich substantial repast,
Lord Marmion’s bugles blew to horse.
Then came the stirrup-cup in course;
Between the Baron and his host,
No point of courtesy was lost:
High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid,
Solemn excuse the Captain made,
Till, filing from the gate, had past
That noble train, their Lord the last.
Then loudly rung the trumpet-call;
Thundered the cannon from the wall,
And shook the Scottish shore;
Around the castle eddied, slow,
Volumes of smoke as white as snow,
And hid its turrets hoar;


cANTo I. THE CASTLE. 55
:
Till they rolled forth upon the air,
And met the river breezes there,
Which gave again the prospect fair.
EN ID OF CAN TO FIRST.


* • • • • • • •æ√≠ a√± ----
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•••• •------•


-
MARMION.
3titrobuſtion to Canto ºttotti,


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I 59 j
TO
THE REV, JOHN MARRIOT, M.A.
Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest.
The scenes are desart now and bare,
Where flourished once a forest fair,
When these waste glens with copse were lined,
And peopled with the hart and hind.
Yon thorn—perchance whose prickly spears
Have fenced him for three hundred years,
While fell around his green compeers—
Yon lonely thorn, would he could tell
The changes of his parent dell,


60 INTRODUCTION
Since he, so grey and stubborn now,
Waved in each breeze a sapling bough;
Would he could tell how deep the shade,
A thousand mingled branches made;
How broad the shadows of the oak,
How clung the rowan * to the rock,
And through the foliage shewed his head,
With harrow leaves, and berries red;
What pines on every mountain sprung,
O'er every dell what birches hung,
In every breeze what aspens shook,
What alders shaded every brook 1
“Here, in my shade,” methinks he'd say,
“The mighty stag at noontide lay:
The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game,
(The neighbouring dingle bears his name,)
With lurching step around me prowl,
And stop against the moon to howl;
* Mountain-ash.


TO CANTO SECOND. 6i
The mountain boar, on battle set,
His tusks upon my stem would whet;
While doe and roe, and red-deer good,
Have bounded by through gay green-wood.
Then oft, from Newark's riven tower,
Sallied a Scottish monarch's power:
A thousand vassāls mustered round,
With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound;
And I might see the youth intent,
Guard every pass with cross-bow bent;
And through the brake the rangers stalk,
And falcºners hold the ready hawk;
And foresters, in green-wood trim,
Lead in the leash the gaze-hounds grim,
Attentive, as the bratchet's* bay
From the dark covert drove the prey,
To slip them as he broke away.
The startled quarry bounds amain,
As fast the gallant grey-hounds strain;
* Slow-hound.


62 - INTRODUCTION
Whistles the arrow from the bow,
Answers the harquebuss below;
While all the rocking hills reply,
To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters' cry,
And bugles ringing lightsomely.”—
Of such proud huntings, many tales
Yet linger in our lonely dales,
Up pathless Ettricke, and on Yarrow,
Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow.
But not more blythe that sylvan court,
Than we have been at humbler sport;
Though small our pomp, and mean our game,
Our mirth, dea, Mario, was the same.
Remember'st thou my grey-hounds true
O'er holt, or hill, there never flew,
From slip, or leash, there never sprang,
More fleet of foot, or sure of fang.
Nor dull, between each merry chase,
Passed by the intermitted space;


TO CANTO SECOND.
For we had fair resource in store,
In Classic, and in Gothic lore:
We marked each memorable scene,
And held poetic talk between;
Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along,
But had its legend, or its song.
All silent now—for now are still
Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill!
No longer, from thy mountains dun,
The yeoman hears the well-known gun,
And, while his honest heart glows warm,
At thought of his paternal farm,
Round to his mates a brimmer fills,
And drinks, “ The Chieftain of the Hills!”
No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers,
Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flowers,
Fair as the elves whom Janet saw,
By moonlight, dance on Carterhaugh;
No youthful baron's left to grace
The Forest-Sheriff's lonely chace,


64 1NTRODUCTION
And ape, in manly step and tone,
The majesty of Oberon:
And she is gone, whose lovely face
Is but her least and lówest grace;
Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given,
To shew our earth the charms of heaven,
She could not glide along the air,
With form more light, or face more fair.
No more the widow's deafened ear
Grows quick, that lady's step to hear:
At noontide she expects her not,
Nor busies her to trim the cot;
Pensive she turns her humming wheel,
Or pensive cooks her orphan's meal;
Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread,
The gentle hand by which they're fed.
From Yair, which hills so closely bind,
Scarce can the Tweed his passage find,
11


TO CANTO SECOND. - 65
Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil,
Till all his eddying currents boil,
Her long-descended lord is gone,
And left us by the stream alone.
And much I miss those sportive boys,
Companions of my mountain joys,
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
Close to my side, with what delight,
They pressed to hear of Wallace wight,
When, pointing to his airy mound,
I called his ramparts holy ground !“
Kindled their brows to hear me speak;
And I have smiled, to feel my cheek,
Despite the difference of our years,
Return again the glow of theirs.
Ah, happy boys! such feelings pure,
They will not, cannot long endure;
* There is, on a high mountainous ridge above the farm
of Ashestiel, a fosse called Wallace's Trench.


66 INTRODUCTION
-
Condemned to stem the world's rude tide,
You may not linger by the side;
For Fate shall thrust you from the shore,
And Passion ply the sail and oar.
Yet cherish the remembrance still,
Of the lone mountain, and the rill;
For trust, dear boys, the time will come,
When fiercer transport shall be dumb,
And you will think right frequently,
But, well I hope, without a sigh,
On the free hours that we have spent,
Together, on the brown hill's bent.
When, musing on companions gone,
We doubly feel ourselves alone,
Something, my friend, we yet may gain,
There is a pleasure in this pain:
It soothes the love of lonely rest,
Deep in each gentler heart impressed.


TO CANTO SECOND. 67
'Tis silent amid worldly toils,
And stifled soon by mental broils;
But, in a bosom thus prepared, -
Its still small voice is often heard,
Whispering a mingled sentiment,
"Twixt resignation and content.
Oft in my mind such thoughts awake,
By lone St Mary's silent lake;
Thou know'st it well,—nor fen, nor sedge,
Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge;
Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink
At once upon the level brink;
And just a trace of silver sand
Marks where the water meets the land.
Far in the mirror, bright and blue,
Each hill's huge outline you may view;
Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake is there,
save where, of land, yon slender line
Bears thwart the lake the scattered pine.


68 INTRODUCTION
Yet even this nakedness has power,
And aids the feeling of the hour:
Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy,
Where living thing concealed might lie;
Nor point, retiring, hides a dell,
Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell;
There's nothing left to fancy's guess,
You see that all is loneliness:
And silence aids—though these steep hills
Send to the lake a thousand rills;
In summer tide, so soft they weep,
The sound but lulls the ear asleep;
Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude,
So stilly is the solitude.
Nought living meets the eye or ear,
But well I ween the dead are near;
For though, in feudal strife, a foe
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low,


TO CANTO SECOND.
Yet still, beneath the hallowed soil,
The peasant rests him from his toil,
And, dying, bids his bones be laid,
Where erst his simple fathers prayed.
If age had tamed the passions' strife,
And fate had cut my ties to life,
Here, have I thought, 'twere sweet to dwell,
And rear again the chaplain's cell,
Like that same peaceful hermitage,
Where Milton longed to spend his age.
"Twere sweet to mark the setting day,
On Bourhope's lonely top decay; -
And, as it faint and feeble died,
On the broad lake, and mountain's side,
To say, “Thus pleasures fade away;
Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay,
And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey;”—
Then gaze on Dryhope's ruined tower,
And think on Yarrow's faded Flower:


70 INTRODUCTION
And when that mountain-sound I heard,
Which bids us be for storm prepared,
The distant rustling of his wings,
As up his force the Tempest brings,
"Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave,
To sit upon the Wizard's grave;
That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust
From company of holy dust;
On which no sun-beam ever shines—
(So superstition's creed divines,)
Thence view the lake, with sullen roar,
Heave her broad billows to the shore;
And mark the wild swans mount the gale,
Spread wide through mist their snowy sail,
And ever stoop again, to lave
Their bosoms on the surging wave:
Then, when against the driving hail
No longer might my plaid avail,
Back to my lonely home retire,
And light my lamp, and trim my fire:


TO CANTO SECOND. 7 I
There ponder o'er some mystic lay,
Till the wild tale had all its sway,
And, in the bittern's distant shriek,
I heard unearthly voices speak,
And thought the Wizard Priest was come,
To claim again his ancient home !
And bade my busy fancy range,
To frame him fitting shape and strange,
Till from the task my brow I cleared,
And smiled to think that I had feared.
But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life,
(Though but escape from fortune's strife,)
Something most matchless good, and wise,
A great and grateful sacrifice;
And deem each hour, to musing given,
A step upon the road to heaven.
Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease,
Such peaceful solitudes displease:


72 INTRODUCTION
He loves to drown his bosom's jar
Amid the elemental war:
And my black Palmer's choice had been
Some ruder and more savage scene,
Like that which frowns round dark Lochskene.
There eagles scream from isle to shore;
Down all the rocks the torrents roar;
O'er the black waves incessant driven,
Dark mists infect the summer heaven;
Through the rude barriers of the lake,
Away its hurrying waters break,
Faster and whiter dash and curl,
Till down yon dark abyss they hurl.
Rises the fog-smoke white as snow,
Thunders the viewless stream below,
Diving, as if condemned to lave
Some demon's subterranean cave,
Who, prisoned by enchanter's spell,
Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell,


TO CANTO SECOND. 73
And well that Palmer's form and mien
Had suited with the stormy scene,
Just on the edge, straining his ken
To view the bottom of the den,
Where, deep deep down, and far within,
Toils with the rocks the roaring linn;
Then, issuing forth one foamy wave,
And wheeling round the Giant's Grave,
White as the snowy charger's tail,
Drives down the pass of Moffatdale.
Marriot, thy harp, on Isis strung,
To many a Border theme has rung:
Then list to me, and thou shalt know
Of this mysterious Man of Woe.
**


sae ae*
-----
|-
-
-- - ----
* º ***
， ，*
*： *）（.*）


MARMION.
CANTO SECONI),
Çffe Conſent,


• • • • •


78 MARMION. CAN to ii.
Where, from high Whitby's cloistered pile,
Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle,
It bore a bark along. -
Upon the gale she stooped her side,
And bounded o'er the swelling tide,
As she were dancing home;
The merry seamen laughed, to see
Their gallant ship so lustily
Furrow the green sea-foam.
Much joyed they in their honoured freight;
For, on the deck, in chair of state,
The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed,
With five fair muns, the galley graced.
II.
‘Twas sweet to see these holy maids,
Like birds escaped to green-wood shades,
Their first flight from the cage, .
How timid, and how curious too,
*


cANTO II. THE CONVENT. 79
For all to them was strange and new,
And all the common sights they view,
Their wonderment engage.
One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail,
With many a benedicite;
One at the rippling surge grew pale,
And would for terror pray;
Then shrieked, because the sea-dog, nigh,
His round black head, and sparkling eye,
Reared o'er the foaming spray;
And one would still adjust her veil,
Disordered by the summer gale,
Perchance lest some more worldly eye
Her dedicated charms might spy;
Perchance, because such action graced
Her fair-turned arm and slender waist.
Light was each simple bosom there,
Save two, who ill might pleasure share,
The Abbess, and the Novice Clare.


80 MARMION. CAN to it.
w
III.
The Abbess was of noble blood,
But early took the veil and hood,
Ere upon life she cast a look,
Or knew the world that she forsook.
Fair too she was, and kind had been
As she was fair, but ne'er had seen
For her a timid lover sigh,
Nor knew the influence of her eye;
Love, to her ear, was but a name,
Combined with vanity and shame;
Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all
Bounded within the cloister wall:
The deadliest sin her mind could reach,
Was of monastic rule the breach;
And her ambition's highest aim,
To emulate Saint Hilda's fame.
For this she gave her ample dower,
To raise the convent's eastern tower;
10


GANTo II, THE convent. 81
For this, with carving rare and quaint,
She decked the chapel of the saint,
And gave the relique-shrine of cost,
With ivory and gems embost.
The poor her convent's bounty blest,
The pilgrim in its halls found rest.
IV.
Black was her garb, her rigid rule
Reformed on Benedictine school;
Her cheek was pale, her form was were 3.
Vigils, and penitence austere, -
Had early quenched the light of youth,
But gentle was the dame in tooth;
Though vain of her religious sway,
She loved to see her maids obey,
Yet nothing stern was she in cell,
And the nuns loved their Abbess well.
Sad was this voyage to the dame;
Summoned to Lindisfarn, she came,
F


82 MARMION. cANTO II.
There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old,
And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold
A chapter of Saint Benedict,
For inquisition stern and strict,
On two apostates from the faith,
And, if need were, to doom to death.
n
V.
Nought say I here of Sister Clare,
Save this, that she was young and fair;
As yet a novice unprofessed,
Lovely, and gentle, but distressed.
She was betrothed to one now dead,
Or worse, who had dishonoured fled.
Her kinsmen bade her give her hand
To one, who loved her for her land:
Herself, almost heart-broken now,
Was bent to take the vestal vow,
And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom,
Her blasted hopes and withered bloom.

10


CANTO II. THE CONVENT. 83
VI.
She sate upon the galley's prow,
And seemed to mark the waves below;
Nay seemed, so fixed her look and eye,
To count them as they glided by.
She saw them not—'twas seeming all—
Far other scene her thoughts recal,—
A sun-scorched desart, waste and bare,
Nor wave, nor breezes, murmured there;
There saw she, where some careless hand
O'er a dead corpse had heaped the sand,
To hide it till the jackalls come,
To tear it from the scanty tomb.-
See what a woeful look was given,
As she raised up her eyes to heaven!
VII.
Lovely, and gentle, and distressed—
These charms might tame the fiercest breast:
e


84 MARMION. CANto II.
Harpers have sung, and poets told,
That he, in fury uncontrouled,
The shaggy monarch of the wood,
Before a virgin, fair and good,
Hath pacified his savage mood.
But passions in the human frame
Oft put the lion's rage to shame:
Andjealousy, by dark intrigue,
With sordid avarice in league,
Had practised, with their bowl and knife,
Against the mourner's harmless life.
This crime was charged 'gainst those who lay
Prisoned in Cuthbert's islet gray.
VIII.
And now the vessel skirts the strand
Of mountainous Northumberland;
Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise,
And catch the nuns’ delighted eyes.


canto II, THE CONVENT. 85
*
Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay,
And Tynemouth's priory and bay;
They marked, amid her trees, the hall
Of lofty Seaton-Delaval;
They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods
Rush to the sea through sounding woods;
They past the tower of Widderington,
Mother of many a valiant son; -
At Coquet-isle their beads they tell,
To the good Saint who owned the cell;
Then did the Alne attention claim,
And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name;
And next, they crossed themselves, to hear
The whitening breakers sound so near,
Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar
On Dunstanborough's caverned shore;
Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they here,
king Ida's castle, huge and square,
From its tall rock look grimly down,
And on the swelling ocean frown;


86 MARMION.
CANTO II,
Then from the coast they bore away,
And reached the Holy Island's bay.
IX.
The tide did now its flood-mark gain,
And girdled in the Saint's domain :
For, with the flow and ebb, its stile
Varies from continent to isle;
Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day,
The pilgrims to the shrine find way;
Twice every day, the waves efface
Of staves and sandaled feet the trace,
As to the port the galley flew,
Higher and higher rose to view
The Castle, with its battled walls,
The ancient Monastery's halls,
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile,
Placed on the margin of the isle.


CANTO II, THE CONVENT. 87
X. -
In Saxon strength that Abbey frowned,
With massive arches broad and round,
That rose alternate, row and row,
On ponderous columns, short and low,
Built ere the art was known,
By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk,
- The arcades of an alley'd walk
To emulate in stone.
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane
Had poured his impious rage in vain;
And needful was such strength to these,
Exposed to the tempestuous seas,
Scourged by the wind's eternal sway,
Open to rovers fierce as they,
Which could twelve hundred years withstand
Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand.
Not but that portions of the pile,
Rebuilded in a later stile,


88 MARMION. GANTO II.
Shewed where the spoiler's hand had been;
Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen
Had worn the pillar's carving quaint,
And mouldered in his niche the saint,
And rounded, with consuming power,
The pointed angles of each tower:
Yet still entire the Abbey stood,
Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.
XI.
Soon as they neared his turrets strong,
The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song,
And with the sea-wave and the wind,
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined,
And made harmonious close;
Then, answering from the sandy shore,
Half-drowned amid the breakers' roar,
According chorus rose:
Down to the haven of the Isle,
The monks and nuns in order file,


cANTO II. THE CONVENT.
From Cuthbert's cloisters grim;
Banner, and cross, and reliques there,
To meet Saint Hilda's maids, they bare;
And, as they caught the sounds on air,
They echoed back the hymn.
The islanders, in joyous mood,
Rushed emulously through the flood,
To hale the bark to land;
Conspicuous by her veil and hood,
Signing the cross, the Abbess stood,
And blessed them with her hand,
XII.
Suppose we now the welcome said,
Suppose the Convent banquet made:
All through the holy dome,
Through cloister, aisle, and gallery,
Wherever vestal maid might pry,
Nor risk to meet unhallowed eye,
The stranger sisters roam :


90 MARMION, CANTo I i.
--
Till fell the evening damp with dew,
And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew,
For there, even summer night is chill.
Then, having strayed and gazed their fill,
They closed around the fire;
And all, in turn, essayed to paint
The rival merits of their saint,
A theme that ne'er can tire
A holy maid; for, be it known,
That their saint's honour is their own.
XIII.
Then Whitby's nuns exulting told,
How to their house three barons bold
Must menial service do; - -
While horns blow out a note of shame,
And monks cry “Fye upon your name!
In wrath, for low of sylvan game,
Saint Hilda's priest ye slew.”


cANTO II. THE CONVENT. 91
* This, on Ascension-day, each year,
While labouring on our harbour-pier, -
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear.”
They told, how in their convent cell
A Saxon princess once did dwell,
The lovely Edelfled;
And how, of thousand snakes, each one
Was changed into a coil of stone,
When holy Hilda prayed;
Themselves, within their holy bound,
Their stony folds had often found.
They told, how sea-fowls' pinions fail,
As over Whitby's towers they sail,
And, sinking down, with flutterings faint,
They do their homage to the saint.
XIV.
Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail,
To vie with these in holy tale;


92. MARMION. . CANTO als
!
\
His body's resting-place, of old,
How oft their patron changed, they told;
How, when the rude Dane burned their pile,
The monks fled forth from Holy Isle;
O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor,
From sea to sea, from shore to shore,
Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore.
They rested them in fair Melrose;
But though, alive, he loved it well,
Not there his reliques might repose;
For, wondrous tale to tell ?
In his stone-coffin forth he rides,
(A ponderous bark for river tides) -
Yet light as gossamer it glides,
Downward to Tillmouth cell.
Nor long was his abiding there,
For southward did the saint repair;
Chester-le-Street, and Rippon, saw
His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw
Hailed him with joy and fear;


CANT0 II. THE CONVENT. 93
And, after many wanderings past,
He chose his lordly seat at last,
Where his cathedral, huge and vast,
Looks down upon the Wear: -
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade,
His reliques are in secret laid;
But none may know the place,
Save of his holiest servants three,
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy,
Who share that wondrous grace.
* XV.
Who may his miracles declare
Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir,
(Although with them they led
Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale,
And Lodon's knights, all sheathed in mail,
And the bold men of Teviotdale,)
Before his standard fled.


94 MARMION. CANTo ni.
'Twas he, to vindicate his reign,
Edged Alfred's faulchion on the Dane,
And turned the conqueror back again,
When, with his Norman bowyer band,
He came to waste Northumberland.
XVI.
But fain Saint Hilda's nuns would learn,
If, on a rock, by Lindisfarn, -
Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame
The sea-born beads that bear his name:
Such tales had Whitby's fishers told,
And said they might his shape behold,
And hear his anvil sound;
A deadened clang, a huge dim form,
Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm,
And night were closing round.
But this, as tale of idle fame,
The nuns of Lindisfarn disclaim.


cANTO II. THE CONVENT. 95
XVII.
While round the fire such legends go
Far different was the scene of woe, -
Where, in a secret aisle beneath,
Council was held of life and death.
It was more dark and lone that vault,
Than the worst dungeon cell;
Old Colwulf built it, for his fault,
In penitence to dwell,
When he, for cowl and beads, laid down
The Saxon battle-axe and CrOWn.
This den, which, chilling every sense
Of feeling, hearing, sight,
Was called the Vault of Penitence,
Excluding air and light,
Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made
A place of burial, for such dead
As, having died in mortal sin,
Might not be laid the church within.


96 MARMION. CANTo im,
:
-
º
‘Twas now a place of punishment;
Whence if so loud a shriek were sent,
As reached the upper air,
The hearers blessed themselves, and said,
The spirits of the sinful dead
Bemoaned their torments there.
XVIII.
But though, in the monastic pile,
Drd of this penitential aisle
Some vague tradition go,
Few only, save the Abbot, knew
Where the place lay; and still more few
Were those, who had from him the clew
To that dread vault to go.
Victim and executioner
Were blind-fold when transported there.
In low dark rounds the arches hung,
From the rude rock the side-walls sprung;
8


CAN to IIe THE CONVENT. 97
The grave-stones, rudely sculptured o'er,
Half sunk in earth, by time half wore,
Were all the pavement of the floor;
The mildew drops fell one by one,
With tinkling plash, upon the stone.
A cresset,” in an iron chain,
Which served to light this drear domain,
With damp and darkness seemed to strive,
As if it scarce might keep alive;
And yet it dimly served to shew
The awful conclave met below.
XIX.
There, met to doom in secrecy,
Were placed the heads of convents three:
All servants of Saint Benedict,
The statutes of whose order strict
On iron table lay;
* Antique Chandelier.
G


98 MARMION. CANTo in.
In long black dress, on seats of stone,
Behind were these three judges shewn,
By the pale cresset's ray:
The Abbess of Saint Hilda's, there,
Sate for a space with visage bare,
Until, to hide her bosom's swell,
And tear-drops that for pity fell,
She closely drew her veil:
Yon shrouded figure, as I guess,
By her proud mien and flowing dress,
Is Tynemouth's haughty Prioress,
And she with awe looks pale:
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight
Has long been quenched by age's night,
Upon whose wrinkled brow alone,
Nor ruth, nor mercy's trace is shown,
Whose look is hard and stern,--
Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his stile;
For sanctity called, through the isle,
The Saint of Lindisfarn.
8


{}ANTO IIe - THE CONVENT. 99
XX.
Before them stood a guilty pair;
But, though an equal fate they share,
Yet one alone deserves our care. . .
Her sex a page's dress belied;
The cloak and doublet, loosely tied,
Obscured her charms, but could not hide.
Her cap down o'er her face she drew;
And, on her doublet breast,
She tried to hide the badge of blue,
Lord Marmion’s falcon crest.
But, at the Prioress' command,
A Monk undid the silken band,
That tied her tresses fair,
And raised the bonnet from her head,
And down her slender form they spread,
In ringlets rich and rare.
Constance de Beverley they know, s
Sister professed of Fontevraud, ºf
*


100 MARMION. c.A.N.To in.
i
º
Whom the church numbered with the dead,
For broken vows, and convent fled.
XXI.
When thus her face was given to view,
(Although so pallid was her hue,
It did a ghastly contrast bear,
To those bright ringlets glistering fair,)
Her look composed, and steady eye,
T}espoke a matchless constancy;
And there she stood so calm and pale,
That, but her breathing did not fail,
And motion slight of eye and head,
And of her bosom, warranted,
That neither sense nor pulse she lacks,
You might have thought a form of wax,
Wrought to the very life, was there;
So still she was, so pale, so fair.
e


cANTo II. THE CONVENT. 101
XXII.
Her comrade was a sordid soul,
Such as does murder for a meed;
Who, but of fear, knows no controul,
Because his conscience, seared and foul,
Feels not the import of his deed;
One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires
Beyond his own more brute desires.
Such tools the tempter ever needs,
To do the savagest of deeds;
For them no visioned terrors daunt,
Their nights no fancied spectres haunt;
One fear with them, of all most base,
The fear of death, alone finds place.
This wretch was clad in frock and cowl,
And shamed not loud to moan and howl,
His body on the floor to dash,
And crouch, like hound beneath the lash;
While his mute partner, standing near,
Waited her doom without a tear.


IQ2 MARMION. CANTO II.
XXIII.
Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek,
Well might her paleness terror speak!
For there were seen, in that dark wall,
Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall.
Who enters at such griesly door,
Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more.
In each a slender meal was laid,
Of roots, of water, and of bread:
By each, in Benedictine dress,
Two haggard monks stood motionless;
Who, holding high a blazing torch,
Shewed the grim entrance of the porch:
Reflecting back the smoky beam,
The dark-red walls and arches gleam.
Hewn stones and cement were displayed,
And building tools in order laid.
- XXIV. -
These executioners were chose,
As men who were with mankind foes,


GANTO II. THE CONVENT. 103
And, with despite and envy fired,
Into the cloister had retired;
Or who, in desperate doubt of grace,
Strove, by deep penance, to efface
Of some foul crime the stain;
For, as the vassals of her will,
Such men the church selected still,
As either joyed in doing ill,
Or thought more grace to gain,
If, in her cause, they wrestled down
Feelings their nature strove to own.
By strange device were they brought there,
They knew not how, and knew not where.
XXV.
And now that blind old Abbot rose,
To speak the Chapter's doom,
On those the wall was to inclose,
Alive, within the tomb;


104 MARMION. CANTo II.
But stopped, because that woeful maid,
Gathering her powers, to speak essayed.
Twice she essayed, and twice in vain;
Her accents might no utterance gain;
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip
From her convulsed and quivering lip :
"Twixt each attempt all was so still,
You seemed to hear a distant rill—
"Twas ocean's swells and falls;
For though this vault of sin and fear
Was to the sounding surge so near,
A tempest there you scarce could hear,
So massive were the walls.
XXVI.
At length, an effort sent apart
The blood that curdled to her heart,
And light came to her eye,
And colour dawned upon her cheek,
A hectic and a fluttered streak,


cANTO II. THE CONVENT. 105
Like that left on the Cheviot peak,
By Autumn's stormy sky;
And when hel silence broke at length,
Still as she spoke, she gathered strength,
And arm'd herself to bear.
It was a fearful sight to see
Such high resolve and constancy,
In form so soft and fair.
XXVII.
* I speak not to implore your grace;
Well know I, for one minute's space
- Successless might I sue:
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain;
For if a death of lingering pain,
To cleanse my sins, be penance vain,
Wain are your masses too.—
I listened to a traitor's tale,
I left the convent and the veil,


106 MARMION. CAN to it.
For three long years I bowed my pride,
A horse-boy in his train to ride;
And well my folly's meed he gave,
Who forfeited, to be his slave,
All here, and all beyond the grave.—
He saw young Clara's face more fair,
He knew her of broad lands the heir,
Forgot his vows, his faith forswore,
And Constance was beloved no more.—
"Tis an old tale, and often told;
But, did my fate and wish agree,
Ne'er had been read, in story old,
Of maiden true betrayed for gold,
That loved, or was avenged, like me!
XXVIII.
“The king approved his favourite's aim;
In vain a rival barred his claim,
Whose faith with Clare's was plight,


CANTO II. THE CONVENT. 167
For he attaints that rival's fame
With treason's charge—and on they came,
In mortal lists to fight. -
Their oaths are said,
Their prayers are prayed,
Their lances in the rest are laid,
They meet in mortal shock;
And hark! the throng, with thundering cry,
Shout “Marmion, Marmion, to the sky!
De Wilton to the block P’
Sayye, who preach heaven shall decide,
When in the lists two champions ride,
Say, was heaven's justice here
When, loyal in his love and faith,
Wilton found overthrow or death,
Beneath a traitor's spear.
How false the charge, how true he fell,
This guilty packet best can tell.”—
Then drew a packet from her breast,
Paused, gathered voice, and spoke the rest.


108 MARMION. CAN to hi.
XXIX.
“Still was false Marmion’s bridal staid;
To Whitby's convent fled the maid,
The hated match to shun.
* Ho! shifts she thus?' king Henry cried,
* Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride,
If she were sworn a nun.’
One way remained—the king's command
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land:
I lingered here, and rescue plann’d
For Clara and for me:
This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear,
He would to Whitby's shrine repair, ,
And, by his drugs, my rival fair
A saint in heaven should be.
But ill the dastard kept his oath,
Whose cowardice hath undone us both.
XXX.
“And now my tongue the secret tells,
Not that remorse my bosom swells,


cANto II. THE CONVENT. 109
But to assure my soul, that none
Shall ever wed with Marmion.
Had fortune my last hope betrayed,
This packet, to the king conveyed,
Had given him to the headsman's stroke,
Although my heart that instant broke.—
Now, men of death, work forth your will,
For I can suffer, and be still;
And come he slow, or come he fast, .
It is but Death who comes at last.
XXXI.
“Yet dread me, from my living tomb,
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome !
If Marmion’s late remorse should wake,
Full soon such vengeance will he take,
That you shall wish the fiery Dane
Had rather been your guest again.
Behind, a darker hour ascends!
The altars quake, the crosier bends,


110 MARMION. CANTo it.
The ire of a despotic king
Rides forth upon destruction's wing;
Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep,
Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep;
Some traveller then shall find my bones,
Whitening amid disjointed stones,
And, ignorant of priests’ cruelty,
Marvel such relics here should be.”—
XXXII.
Fixed was her look, and stern her air;
Back from her shoulders streamed her hair;
The locks, that wont her brow to shade,
Stared up erectly from her head;
Her figure seemed to rise more high;
Her voice, despair's wild energy
Had given a tone of prophecy.
- Appalled the astonished conclave sate;
With stupid eyes, the men of fate


cANTO II, THE CONVENT. I 11
Gazed on the light inspired form,
And listened for the avenging storm;
The judges felt the victim's dread;
No hand was moved, no word was said,
Till thus the Abbot’s doom was given,
Raising his sightless balls to heaven:-
“Sister, let thy sorrows cease;
Sinful brother, part in peace!”—
From that dire dungeon, place of doom,
Of execution too, and tomb,
Paced forth the judges three;
Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell
The butcher-work that there befell,
when they had glided from the cell
Of sin and misery.
XXXIII.
An hundred winding steps convey
That conclave to the upper day;


i 12 MARMION, -cAnto II.
But, ere they breathed the fresher air,
They heard the shriekings of despair,
And many a stifled groan:
With speed their upward way they take,
(Such speed as age and fear can make)
And crossed themselves for terror's sake,
As hurrying, tottering on.
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone,
They seemed to hear a dying groan,
And bade the passing knell to toll
For welfare of a parting soul.
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung,
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung;
To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled,
His beads the wakeful hermit told;
The Bamborough peasant raised his head,
But slept ere half a prayer he said;
So far was heard the mighty knell,
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell,

11


GANTO II, THE CONVENT. 113
Spread his broad nostril to the wind,
Listed before, aside, behind;
Then couched him down beside the hind,
And quaked among the mountain fern,
To hear that sound so dull and stern.
EN ID OF CAN TO SECON D.





MARMION.
3tttrobuſtion to Canto ºftt,


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---- - - -*-*


[ 117 1
TO
WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esq.
Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest.
Like April morning clouds, that pass,
With varying shadow, o'er the grass,
And imitate, on field and furrow,
Life's chequered scene of joy and sorrow;
Like streamlet of the mountain north,
Now in a torrent racing forth,
Now winding slow its silver train,
And almost slumbering on the plain;
Like breezes of the autumn day,
Whose yoice inconstant dies away,


118 INTRODUCTION
And ever swells again as fast,
When the ear deems its murmur past;
Thus various, my romantic theme
Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream.
Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace
Of Light and Shade's inconstant race;
Pleased, views the rivulet afar,
Weaving its maze irregular;
And pleased, we listen as the breeze
Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees.
Then wild as cloud, or stream, or gale,
Flow on, flow unconfined, my tale.
Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell,
I love the license all too well,
In sound now lowly, and now strong,
To raise the desultory song —
Oft, when mid such capricious chime,
Some transient fit of loftier rhyme,
To thy kind judgment seemed excuse
For many an error of the muse;
w

10


TO CANTO THIRD, 119
Oft hast thou said, “If still mis-spent,
Thine hours to poetry are lent,
Go, and to tame thy wandering course,
Quaff from the fountain at the source;
Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb
Immortal laurels ever bloom:
Instructive of the feebler bard,
Still from the grave their voice is heard;
From them, and from the paths they shew’d,
Chuse honoured guide and practised road;
Nor ramble on through brake and maze,
With harpers rude of barbarous days.
“Or deem'st thou not our later time
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme *
Hast thou no elegiac verse
For Brunswick's venerable hearse
What! not a line, a tear, a sigh,
When valour bleeds for liberty —
Oh, hero of that glorious time,
When, with unrivalled light sublime;-


120 1NTRODUCTION
Though martial Austria, and though all
The might of Russia, and the Gaul,
Though banded Europe stood her foes—
The star of Brandenburgh arose
Thou could'st not live to see her beam
For ever quenched in Jena's stream.
Lamented chief!—it was not given,
To thee to change the doom of heaven,
And crush that dragon in its birth,
Predestined scourge of guilty earth.
Lamented chief!—not thine the power,
To save in that presumptuous hour,
When Prussia hurried to the field,
And snatched the spear, but left the shield;
Valour and skill 'twas thine to try,
And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die.
Ill had it seemed thy silver hair
The last, the bitterest pang to share,
For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven,
And birthrights to usurpers given;


TO CANTO THIRE). |21
Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel,
And witness woes thou could'st not heal!
On thee relenting heaven bestows
For honoured life an honoured close;
And when revolves, in time's sure change,
The hour of Germany's revenge,
When, breathing fury for her sake,
Some new Arminius shall awake,
Her champion, ere he strike, shall come
To whet his sword on BRUNswick’s tomb.
“Or of the Red-Cross hero teach,
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach:
Alike to him the sea, the shore,
The brand, the bridle, or the oar; \
Alike to him the war that calls
It's votaries to the shattered walls,
Which the grim Turk besmeared with blood,
Against the Invincible made good;
Or that, whose thundering voice could wake
The silence of the polar lake,


122 - INTRODUCTION
When stubborn Russ, and metal’d Swede,
On the warped wave their death-game played;
Or that, where vengeance and affright
* Howl'd round the father of the fight,
Who snatched on Alexandria's sand
The conqueror's wreath with dying hand.
“Or, if to touch such chord be thine,
Restore the ancient tragic line,
And emulate the notes that rung
From the wild harp which silent hung,
By silver Avon's holy shore,
Till twice an hundred years rolled o'er;
When she, the bold Enchantress, came,
With fearless hand and heart on flame !
From the rºle willow snatched the treasure,
And swept it with a kindred measure,
Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove
With Monfort's hate and Basil's love,
Awakening at the inspired strain,
Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again.”-
•


To cANTo THIRD. 123
Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging,
With praises not to me belonging,
In task more meet for mightiest powers,
Would'st thou engage my thriftless hours.
But say, my Erskine, hast thou weighed
That secret power by all obeyed,
Which warps not less the passive mind,
Its source concealed or undefined; w
Whether an impulse, that has birth
-
Soon as the infant wakes on earth,
One with our feelings and our powers,
And rather part of us than ours;
Or whether fitlier termed the sway
Of habit, formed in early day
Howe'er derived, its force confessed
Rules with despotic sway the breast,
And drags us on by viewless chain,
While taste and reason plead in vain. -
Look east, and ask the Belgian why,
Beneath Batavia's sultry sky,


124 INTRODUCTION
He seeks not eager to inhale
The freshness of the mountain gale,
Content to rear his whitened wall
Beside the dank and dull canal
He'll say, from youth he loved to see
The white sail gliding by the tree.
Or see yon weather-beaten hind,
Whose sluggish herds before him wind,
Whose tattered plaid and rugged cheek
His northern clime and kindred speak;
Through England's laughing meads he goes,
And England's wealth around him flows;
Ask, if it would content him well, -
At ease in these gay plains to dwell,
Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen,
º
- And spires and forests intervene,
And the neat cottage peeps between
No! not for these will he exchange
His dark Lochaber's boundless range,
º


TO CANTO THIRI). 42;
Nor for fair Devon's meads forsake
Bennevis grey and Garry's lake.
Thus, while I ape the measure wild
Of tales that charmed me yet a child,
Rude though they be, still with the chime
Return the thoughts of early time;
And feelings, roused in life's first day,
Glow in the line, and prompt the lay.
Then rise those crags, that mountain tower,
Which charmed my fancy's wakening hour.
Though no broad river swept along,
To claim, perchance, heroic song;
Though sighed no groves in summer gale,
To prompt of love a softer tale;
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed
Claimed homage from a shepherd's reed;
Yet was poetic impulse given,
By the green hill and clear blue heaven.


126 INTRODUCTION
It was a barren scene, and wild,
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled;
But ever and anon between
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green;
And well the lonely infant knew
Recesses where the wall-flower grew,
And honey-suckle loved to crawl :-
Up the low crag and ruined wall
I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade
The sum in all his round surveyed;
And still I thought that shattered tower
The mightiest work of human power;
And marvelled, as the aged hind
With some strange tale bewitched my mind,
Of forayers, who, with headlong force,
Down from that strength had spurred their horse,
Their southern rapine to renew,
Far in the distant Cheviots blue,
And, home returning, filled the hall
With revel, wassell-route, and brawl.—


TO CANTO THIRD. 121
-
Methought that still with tramp and clang
The gate-way's broken arches rang;
Methought grim features, seamed with scars,
Glared through the window's rusty bars.
And ever, by the winter hearth,
Old tales I heard of woe or mirth,
Of lovers' sleights, of ladies' charms,
Of witches spells, of warriors' arms;
Of patriot battles, won of old
By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold;
Of later fields of feud and fight,
When, pouring from their Highland height,
The Scottish clans, in headlong sway,
Had swept the scarlet ranks away.
While stretched at length upon the floor,
Again I fought each combat o'er,
Pebbles and shells, in order laid,
The mimic ranks of war displayed;
And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,
And still the scattered Southron fled before.


128 INTRODUCTION
Still, with vain fondness, could I trace,
Anew, each kind familiar face,
That brightened at our evening fire;
From the thatched mansion's grey-haired Sire,
Wise without learning, plain and good,
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;
Whose eye in age, quick, clear, and keen,
Shewed what in youth its glance had been;
Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Content with equity unbought;
To him the venerable Priest,
Our frequent and familiar guest,
Whose life and manners well could paint
Alike the student and the saint ;
Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
With gambol rude and timeless joke:
For I was wayward, bold, and wild,
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child;
But half a plague, and half a jest,
Was still endured, beloved, carest.

8


TO CANTO THIRD. 129
From me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask
The classic poet's well-conned task?
Nay, Erskine, nay—on the wild hill
Let the wild heathbell flourish still ;
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine,
But freely let the woodbine twine,
And leave untrimmed the eglantine:
Nay, my friend, nay—since oft thy praise
Hath given fresh vigour to my lays,
Since oft thy judgment could refine
My flattened thought, or cumbrous line,
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend,
And in the minstrel spare the friend.
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale,
Flow forth, flow unrestrained, my tale !





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[ 133 J
MARMION.
CAN TO THIRD.
Çüe lºogtei, or 3tul,
I.
The livelong day Lord Marmion rode:
The mountain path the Palmer shewed;
By glen and streamlet winded still,
Where stunted birches hid the rill.
They might not chuse the lowland road,
For the Merse forayers were abroad,
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey,
Had scarcely failed to bar their way.
ſ
-º


134 MARMION. CANTo Iiji.
Oft on the trampling band, from crown
Of some tall cliff, the deer looked down;
On wing of jet, from his repose
In the deep heath, the black-cock rose;
Sprung from the gorse the timid roe,
Nor waited for the bending bow;
And when the stony path began,
By which the naked peak they wan,
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan.
The noon had long been passed before
They gained the height of Lammermoor;
Thence winding down the northern way,
Before them, at the close of day,
Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay.
II.
No summons calls them to the tower,
To spend the hospitable hour.
To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone;
His cautious dame, in bower alone,


11


GANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 135
Dreaded her castle to unclose,
*
*†:
* *
**
* *
º
º,
So late, to unknown friends or foes. -- t
On through the hamlet as they paced, º º º
Before a porch, whose front was graced | : .
With bush and flaggon trimly placed, | º
Lord Marmion drew his rein: º -
The village inn seemed large, though rude; | º
Its cheerful fire and hearty food i
Might well relieve his train. f -
Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, º *
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung; |
They bind their horses to the stall, - |
For forage, food, and firing call, - :
And various clamour fills the hall; ; :
Weighing the labour with the cost, : --
Toils everywhere the bustling host. * . : -
III. i -
Soon by the chimney's merry blaze, - º :*
Through the rude hostel might you gaze; -
- - |
ºf
.
|
º
*
º
.


136 | MARMION. GANTO III.
t
º
ſ
Might see, where, in dark nook aloof,
The rafters of the sooty roof
Bore wealth of winter cheer;
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store,
And gammons of the tusky boar,
And savoury haunch of deer.
The chimney arch projected wide;
Above, around it, and beside,
Were tools for housewives’ hand:
Nor wanted, in that martial day,
The implements of Scottish fray,
The buckler, lance, and brand.
Beneath its shade, the place of state,
On oaken settle Marmion sate,
And viewed around the blazing hearth.
His followers mix in noisy mirth,
Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide,
From ancient vessels ranged aside,
Full actively their host supplied.


CANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 137
Their's was the glee of martial breast,
And laughter their's at little jest;
And oft Lord Marmion deigned to aid,
And mingle in the mirth they made:
For though, with men of high degree,
The proudest of the proud was he,
Yet, trained in camps, he knew the art
To win the soldier's hardy heart.
They love a captain to obey,
Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May;
With open hand, and brow as free,
Lover of wine, and minstrelsy;
Ever the first to scale a tower,
As venturous in a lady's bower:-
Such buxom chief shall lead his host
From India's fires to Zembla’s frost.
W.
Resting upon his pilgrim staff,
Right opposite the Palmer stood;


138 MARMION. cANTO III.
His thin dark visage wn but half,
Half hidden by his hood.
Still fixed on Marmion was his look,
Which he, who ill such gaze could brook,
Strove by a frown to quell;
But not for that, though more than once -
Full met their stern encountering glance,
The Palmer's visage fell.
VI.
By fits less frequent from the crowd
Was heard the burst of laughter loud;
For still, as squire and archer stared
On that dark face and matted beard,
Their glee and game declined.
All gazed at length in silence drear,
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear
Some yeoman, wondering in his fear,
Thus whispered forth his mind:—
“Saint Mary 1 saw'st thou e'er such sight?


canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 139
How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,
Whene'er the fire-brand's fickle light ,
Glances beneath his cowl |
Full on our Lord he sets his eye;
For his best palfrey, would not I
Endure that sullen scowl.”—
VII.
But Marmion, as to chase the awe
Which thus had quelled their hearts, who saw
The ever-varying fire-light shew
That figure stern and face of woe,
Now called upon a squire:–
“Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay,
To speed the lingering night away?
We slumber by the fire.”—
VIII.
“So please you.” thus the youth rejoined,
“Our choicestminstrel's left behind.
|º
--


140 MARMION. Canto ill.
Ill may we hope to please your ear,
Accustomed Constant's strains to hear.
The harp full deftly can he strike,
And wake the lover's lute alike;
To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush
Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush;
No nightingale her love-lorn tune
More sweetly warbles to the moon.
Woe to the cause, whate'er it be,
Detains from us his melody,
Lavished on rocks, and billows stern,
Or duller monks of Lindisfarn.
Now must I venture as I may,
To sing his favourite roundelay.”—
IX.
A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had,
The air he chose was wild and sad;
Such have I heard, in Scottish land,
Rise from the busy harvest band,


GANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 141
When falls before the mountaineer, .
On lowland plains, the ripened ear.
Now one shrill voice the notes prolong,
Now a wild chorus swells the song:
Oft have I listened, and stood still,
As it came softened up the hill,
And deemed it the lament of men.
Who languished for their native glen;
And thought, how, sad would be such sound,
On Susquehana's swampy ground,
Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake,
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake,
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain,
Recalled fair Scotland's hills again!
X.
§ong,
Where shall the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever ?


142 MARMION. CANTo ini,
Where, through groves deep and high,
Sounds the far billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.
CHORUS.
Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.
There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There, thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,
Never, O never.
CHORUS.
Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never.
XI.
Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,


GANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN.
143
Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin, and leave her ? -
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle,
With groans of the dying.
CHORUS.
Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap,
O'er the false-hearted;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted.
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it,
Never, O never.
chorus.
Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never.
*
-|


144 MARMION. CANTO III.
XII.
It ceased, the melancholy sound;
And silence sunk on all around.
The air was sad; but sadder still
It fell on Marmion’s ear,
And plained as if disgrace and ill,
And shameful death, were near.
He drew his mantle past his face,
Between it and the band,
And rested with his head a space,
Reclining on his hand.
His thoughts I scan not; but I ween,
That, could their import have been seen,
The meanest groom in all the hall,
That e'er tied courser to a stall,
Would scarce have wished to be their prey,
For Lutterward and Fontenaye.
XIII.
High minds, of native pride and force,
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse !

2


GANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 145
Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have,
Thou art the torturer of the brave;
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel;
Even while they writhe beneath the smart
Of civil conflict in the heart.
For soon Lord Marmion raised his head,
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said:—
“Is it not strange, that, as ye sung,
seemed in mine ear a death-peal rung,
Such as in nunneries they toll
For some departing sister's soul?
Say, what may this portend ?”—
Then first the Palmer silence broke,
(The live-long day he had not spoke)
* The death of a dear friend.”
XIV.
Marmion, whose steady heart and eye
Ne'er changed in worst extremity;
R


146 MARMION. CANTO III.
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook,
Even from his king, a haughty look;
Whose accent of command controuled,
In camps, the boldest of the bold—
Thought, look, and utterance, failed him now,
Fallen was his glance, and flushed his brow:
For either in the tone,
Or something in the Palmer's look,
So full upon his conscience strook,
That answer he found none.
Thus oft it haps, that when within
They shrink at sense of secret sin,
A feather daunts the brave;
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise,
And proudest princes wail their eyes
Before their meanest slave.
XV.
Well might he faulter l—by his aid
Was Constance Beverley betrayed;

8


gANTo III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 147
Not that he augur’d of the doom,
Which on the living closed the tomb;
But, tired to hear the desperate maid
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;
And wroth, because, in wild despair,
She practised on the life of Clare;
Its fugitive the church he gave,
Though not a victim, but a slave;
And deemed restraint in convent strange,
Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge.
Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer,
Held Romish thunders idle fear,
Secure his pardon he might hold,
For some slight mulct of penance-gold.
Thus judging, he gave secret way,
When the stern priests surprised their prey :
His train but deemed the favourite page
Was left behind, to spare his age;
Or other if they deemed, none dared
To mutter what he thought and heard:


148 MARMION. CANTO Ill.
Woe to the vassal, who durst pry
Into Lord Marmion's privacy!
- XVI.
His conscience slept—he deemed her well,
And safe secured in distant cell; -
But, wakened by her favourite lay,
And that strange Palmer's boding say,
That fell so ominous and drear,
Full on the object of his fear,
To aid remorse's venomed throes,
Dark tales of convent vengeance rose;
And Constance, late betrayed and scorned,
All lovely on his soul returned :
Lovely as when, at treacherous call,
She left her convent's peaceful wall,
Crimsoned with shame, with tenor mute,
Dreading alike escape, pursuit,
Till love, victorious o'er alarms,
Hid fears and blushes in his arms.


CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 149
XVII.
“Alas!” he thought, “how changed that mien:
How changed these timid looks have been,
Since years of guilt, and of disguise,
Have steeled her brow, and armed her eyes!
No more of virgin terror speaks
The blood that mantles in her cheeks;
Fierce, and unfeminine, are there,
Frenzy for joy, for grief despair;
And I the cause—for whom were given
Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven —
Would,” thought he, as the picture grows,
* I on its stalk had left the rose !
Oh why should man's success remove
The very charms that wake his love —
Her convent's peaceful solitude
Is now a prison harsh and rude;
And, pent within the narrow cell,
How will her spirit chafe and swell !
How brook the stern monastic laws
The penance how—and I the cause !—


150 MARMION, CANTo ill.
Vigil and scourge—perchance even worse P-
And twice he rose to cry “to horse l’
And twice his sovereign's mandate came,
Like damp upon a kindling flame;
And twice he thought, “ Gave I not charge
She should be safe, though not at large
They durst not, for their island, shred
One golden ringlet from her head.”—
XVIII.
While thus in Marmion’s bosom strove
Repentance and reviving love,
Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway
I've seen Loch Vennachar obey,
Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard,
And, talkative, took up the word:—
“Aye, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray
From Scotland's simple land away,
To visit realms afar,
Full often learn the art to know,
Of future weal, or future woe,
By word, or sign, or star;
º


canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 151
Yet might a knight his fortune hear,
If, knight-like, he despises fear,
Not far from hence;—if fathers old
Aright our hamlet legend told.”—
These broken words the menials move,
(For marvels still the vulgar love;)
And, Marmion giving license cold,
His tale the host thus gladly told.
XIX.
Çbe lºogt's Cait,
“A clerk could tell what years have flown
Since Alexander filled our throne,
(Third monarch of that warlike name,)
And eke the time when here he came
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord:
A braver never drew a sword;
A wiser never, at the hour
Of midnight, spoke the word of power;
The same, whom ancient records call
The founder of the Goblin-Hall.


152 MARMION. CAN to iii.
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay
Gave you that cavern to survey.
Of lofty roof, and ample size,
Beneath the castle deep it lies:
To hew the living rock profound,
The floor to pave, the arch to round,
There never toiled a mortal arm,
It all was wrought by word and charm;
- º º
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- - - -
And I have heard my grandsire say,
That the wild clamour and affray
Of those dread artizans of hell,
Who laboured under Hugo's spell,
Sounded as loud as ocean's war,
Among the caverns of Dunbar.
YX. -
“The king Lord Gifford's castle sought,
Deep-labouring with uncertain thought:
Even then he mustered all his host,
To meet upon the western coast;


CAN to III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 153
For Norse and Danish galleys plied
Their oars within the firth of Clyde.
There floated Haco's banner trim,
Above Norweyan warriors grim,
Savage of heart, and large of limb;
Threatening both continent and isle,
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle.
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground,
Heard Alexander's bugle sound,
And tarried not his garb to change,
But, in his wizard habit strange,
Came forth, a quaint and fearful sight!
His mantle lined with fox-skins white;
His high and wrinkled forehead bore
A pointed cap, such as of yore
Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore;
His shoes were marked with cross and spell;
Upon his breast a pentacle;
His zone, of virgin parchment thin,
Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin,


CANTO III, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 155
Vainly from me my liege would know
His kingdom's future weal or woe;
But yet, if strong his arm and heart,
His courage may do more than art.
\
XXII.
“Of middle air the demons proud,
t
Who ride upon the racking cloud,
Can read, in fixed or wandering star,
The issue of events afar;
But still their sullen aid withhold
Save when by mightier force controuled.
Such late I summoned to my hall;
And though so potent was the call,
That scarce the deepest nook of hell
I deemed a refuge from the spell,
Yet, obstinate in silence still,
The haughty demon mocks my skill.
But thou, who little knowest thy might,
As born upon that blessed night,


156 MARMION. cANTO III,
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown,
With untaught valour shalt compel
Response denied to magic spell.”—
* Gramercy,” quoth our monarch free,
* Place him but front to front with me,
And, by this good and honoured brand,
The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand,
Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide,
The demon shall a buffet bide.”—
His bearing bold the wizard viewed,
And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed.—
“There spoke the blood of Malcolm –mark:
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark,
The rampart seek, whose circling crown
Crests the ascent of yonder down :
A southern entrance shalt thou find;
There halt, and there thy bugle wind,
And trust thine elfin foe to see,
In guise of thy worst enemy:


c.Anto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 101
Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed—
Upon him ' and Saint George to speed
If he go down, thou soon shalt know,
Whate'er these airy sprites can shew;--
If thy heart fail ahee in the strife,
I am no warrant for thy life."—
XXIII,
“Soon as the midnight bell did ring,
Alone, and armed, rode forth the king
To that old camp's deserted round:—
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound,
Left hand the town, the Pictish race
The trench, long since, in blood did trace;
The moor around is brown and bare,
The space within is green and fair,
The spot our village children know,
For there the earliest wild flowers grow ;
But woe betide the wandering wight,
That treads its circle in the night!


158 MARMION. CANTo III.
-|-
The breadth across, a bowshot clear,
Gives ample space for full career;
Opposed to the four points of heaven,
By four deep gaps are entrance given.
The southernmost our monarch past,
Halted, and blew a gallant blast;
And on the north, within the ring,
Appeared the form of England's king;
Who then, a thousand leagues afar,
In Palestine waged fioly war:
Yet arms like England's did he wield,
Alike the leopards in the shield,
Alike his Syrian courser's frame,
The rider's length of limb the same:
Long afterwards did Scotland know,
Fell Edward * was her deadliest foe.
XXIV.
“The vision made our monarch start,
But soon he mann'd his noble heart,
* Edward I, surnamed Longshanks.


CANTo IIIs THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 159
And in the first career they ran,
The Elfin Knight fell horse and man;
Yet did a splinter of his lance
Through Alexander's visor glance,
And razed the skin—a puny wound.
The king, light leaping to the ground,
With naked blade his phantom foe
Compelled the future war to show.
Of Largs he saw the glorious plain,
Where still gigantic bones remain,
Memorial of the Danish war;
Himself he saw, amid the field,
On high his brandished war-axe wield,
And strike proud Haco from his car,
While, all around the shadowy kings,
Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their wings.
'Tis said, that, in that awful night,
Remoter visions met his sight,
Fore-shewing future conquests far,
When our sons' sons wage northern war;


160 MARMION. CANTO III.
A royal city, tower and spire,
Reddened the midnight sky with fire;
And shouting crews her navy bore,
- Triumphant, to the victor shore.
Such signs may learned clerks explain,
They pass the wit of simple swain.
XXV.
“ The joyful king turned home again,
, Headed his host, and quelled the Dane;
But yearly, when returned the night
Of his strange combat with the sprite,
His wound must bleed and smart;
Lord Gifford then would gibing say,
“Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay
The penance of your start.”
Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave,
King Alexander fills his grave,
Our Lady give him rest

7


canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 161
Yet still the nightly spear and shield
The elfin warrior doth wield, . . . "
Upon the brown hill's breast;
And many a knight hath proved his chance,
In the charmed ring to break a lance,
But all have foully sped ; , , , ,
Save two, as legends tell, and they
Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay—
Gentles, my tale-is said.”—
XXVI. . . . . ."
The quaighs" were deep, the liquor strong,
And on the tale the yeoman throng
Had made a comment sage and long,
But Marmion gave a sign;
And, with their lord, the squires retire;
The rest, around the hostel fire,
Their drowsy limbs recline;
* A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together.
1,
º
º


162 MARMION. CANTO III.
For pillow, underneath each head,
The quiver and the targe were laid:
Deep slumbering on the hostel floor,
Oppressed with toil and ale, they snore:
The dying flame, in fitful change,
Threw on the groupe it's shadows strange.
XXVII.
Apart, and nestling in the hay
Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay;
Scarce, by the pale moonlight, was seen
The foldings of his mantle green:
Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream,
Of sport by thicket, or by stream,
Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove,
Or, lighter yet, of lady's love.
A cautious tread his slumber broke,
And, close beside him, when he woke,
In moonbeam half, and half in gloom,
Stood a tall form, with nodding plume;

3.


eANro III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 163
But, ere his dagger Eustace drew,
His master Marmion's voice he knew.
XXVIII.
—“ FitzEustace ! rise, I cannot rest;
Yon churl’s wild legend haunts my breast,
And graver thoughts have chafed my mood;
The air must cool my feverish blood;
And fain would I ride forth, to see
The scene of elfin chivalry.
Arise, and saddle me my steed;
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed
Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves;
I would not, that the prating knaves
Had cause for saying, o'er their ale,
That I could credit such a tale.”—
Then softly down the steps they slid,
Eustace the stable door undid,
And, darkling, Marmion's steed arrayed,
While, whispering, thus the Baron said:—


164 MARMION. U.A.R. To inn.
XXIX.
“Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell,
That on the hour when I was born,
St George, who graced my sire's chapelle,
Down from his steed of marble fell,
A weary wight forlorn ?
The flattering chaplains all agree,
The champion left his steed to me.
I would, the omen's truth to show,
That I could meet this Elfin Foel
Blithe would I battle, for the right
To ask one question at the sprite:—
Vain thought ! for elves, if elves there be,
An empty race, by fount or sea, -
To dashing waters dance and sing,
Or round the green oak wheel their ring.”—
Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode,
And from the hostel slowly rode.


e ANto 111. THI, HOSTEL, OR INN. 165
XXX.
Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad,
And marked him pace the village road,
And listened to his horse's tramp,
Till, by the lessening sound,
Hejudged that of the Pictish camp
Lord Marmion sought the round.
Wonder it seemed, in the squire's eyes,
That one, so wary held, and wise,_
Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received
For gospel, what the church believed,—
Should, stirred by idle tale,
Ride forth in silenee of the night,
As hoping half to meet a sprite,
Arrayed in plate and mail.
For little did Fitz-Eustace know,
That passions, in contending flow,
Unfix the strongest mind;
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee,
we welcome fond credulity,
Guide confident, though blind.


166 MARMION, GANTO ini,
º XXXI.
Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared,
But, patient, waited till he heard,
At distance, pricked to utmost speed,
The foot-tramp of a flying steed,
Come town-ward rushing on :
First, dead, as if on turf it trod,
Then, clattering on the village road,
In other pace than forth he yode,”
Returned Lord Marmion.
Down hastily he sprung from selle,
And, in his haste, well nigh he fell;
To the squire's hand the rein he threw,
And spoke no word as he withdrew;
But yet the moonlight did betray,
The falcon crest was soiled with clay;
And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see,
By stains upon the charger's knee,
And his left side, that on the moor
He had not kept his footing sure.
* Used by old poets for went.


GANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 167
Long musing on these wondrous signs,
At length to rest the squire reclines,
Broken and short; for still, between,
Would dreams of terror intervene:
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark
The first notes of the morning lark.
END OF CANTO THIRE).


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[ 171 J
TO
JAMES SKENE, Esq.
Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest.
An ancient minstrel sagely said,
* Where is the life which late we led ”—
That motley clown, in Arden wood,
Whom humorous Jaques with envy viewed,
Not even that clown could amplify,
On this trite text, so long as I.
Eleven years we now may tell,
Since we have known each other well;
Since, riding side by side, our hand
First drew the voluntary brand;


172 INTRODUCTION
And sure, through many a varied scene,
Unkindness never came between.
Away these winged years have flown,
To join the mass of ages gone;
And though deep marked, like all below,
With chequered shades of joy and woe;
Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged,
Marked cities lost, and empires changed,
While here, at home, my narrower ken
Somewhat of manners saw, and men;
Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears,
Fevered the progress of these years,
Yet now, days, weeks, and months, but seem
The recollection of a dream, . .
So still we glide down to the sea
Of fathomless eternity.
Even now, it scarcely seems a day,
Since first I tuned this idle lay;
A task so often thrown aside,
When leisure graver cares denied,


TO CANTO FOURTH. 17.3
That now, November's dreary gale,
Whose voice inspired my opening tale,
That same November gale once more
Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore;
Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky,
Once more our naked birches sigh; .
And Blackhouse heights, and Ettricke Pen,
Have don'd, their wintry shrouds again; ºn
And mountain dark, and flooded mead, ...
Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. . . . . .
Earlier than wont along the sky,
Mixed with the rack, the snow-mists fly: '
The shepherd, who, in summer sun,
Has something of our envy won, ºf
As thou with pencil, I with pen,
The features,traced of hill and glen; , .
He who, outstretched, the livelong day,
At ease among the heath-flowers lay,
Viewed the light clouds with vacant look,
Or slumbered o'er his tattered book,


174 INTRODUCTION
Or idly busied him to guide
His angle o'er the lessened tide;—
At midnight now, the snowy plain
Finds sterner labour for the swain.
When red hath set the beamless sun,
Through heavy vapours dank and dun;
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm,
Hears, half asleep, the rising storm
Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain,
Against the casement's tinkling pane;
The sounds that drive wild deer, and fox,
To shelter in the brake and rocks,
Are waming, which the shepherd ask
To dismal, and to dangerous task.
Oft he looks forth, and hopes, in vain,
The blast may sink in mellowing rain;
Till, dark above, and white below,
Decided drives the flaky snow,
And forth the hardy swain must go.


TO CANTO FOURTH. 115
Long, with dejected look and whine,
To leave the hearth his dogs repine;
Whistling, and cheering them to aid,
Around his back he wreathes the plaid:
His flock he gathers, and he guides
To open downs, and mountain sides,
Where, fiercest though the tempest blow,
Least deeply lies the drift below.
The blast, that whistles o'er the fells,
Stiffens his locks to icicles; ~
Oft he looks back, while, streaming far,
His cottage window seems a star,
Loses its feeble gleam, and then
Turns patient to the blast again,
And, facing to the tempest's sweep,
Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep:
If fails his heart, if his limbs fail,
Benumbing death is in the gale;
His paths, his landmarks, all unknown,
Close to the hut, no more his own,


TO CANTO FOURTH. 177
Our youthful summer oft we see
Dance by on wings of game and glee,
While the dark storm reserves its rage,
Against the winter of our age :
As he, the ancient chief ofTroy,
His manhood spent in peace and joy;
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms,
Called ancient Priam forth to arms.
Then happy those, since each must drain
His share of pleasure, share of pain,_
Then happy those, beloved of heaven,
To whom the mingled cup is given;
Whose lenient sorrows find relief,
Whose joys are chastened by their grief.
‘And such a lot, my Skene, was thine,
When thou of late wert doomed to twine,—
Just when thy bridal hour was by, -
The cypress with the myrtle tie;
Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled,
And blessed the union of his child,
M


178 INTRODUCTION
When love must change its joyous cheer,
And wipe affection's filial tear.
Nor did the actions, next his end,
Speak more the father than the friend :
Scarce had lamented Forbes paid
The tribute to his Minstrel's shade;
The tale of friendship scarce was told,
Ere the narrator's heart was cold. .
Far may we search before we find
A heart so manly and so kind.
But not around his honour'd urn,
Shall friends alone and kindred mourn;
The thousand eyes his care had dried,
Pour at his name a bitter tide 5
And frequent falls the grateful dew,
For benefits the world ne'er knew.
If mortal charity dare claim.
The Almighty's attributed name,
Inscribe above his mouldering clay,
>>
“The widow's shield, the orphan's stay.

3


TO CANTO FOURTH. 179
Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem
My verse intrudes on this sad theme;
For sacred was the pen that wrote,
“Thy father's friend forget thou not:”
And grateful title may I plead,
For many a kindly word and deed,
To bring my tribute to his grave :—
"Tis little—but ’tis all I have.
To thee, perchance, this rambling strain
Recals our summer walks again;
When doing nought, and, to speak true,
Not anxious to find aught to do,
The wild unbounded hills we ranged,
While oft our talk its topic changed,
And desultory, as our way,
Ranged unconfined from grave to gay.
Even when it flagged, as oft will chance,
No effort made to break its trance,
We could right pleasantly pursue
ºur sports in social silence too.


180 - INTRODUCTION
Thou gravely labouring to pourtray --
The blighted oak's fantastic spray; -
I spelling o'er, with much delight, --
The legend of that antique knight, ---
- -
Tirante by name, yeleped the White,
At either's feet a trusty squire,
Pandour and Camp, with eyes of fire, -:
Jealous, each others motions viewed, -º
And scarce suppressed their ancient feud.
The laverock whistled from the cloud;
The stream was lively, but not loud; sº
From the white-thorn the May-flower shed ºf
Its dewy fragrance round our head: a tº
Not Ariel lived more merrily ºr adº'
Under the blossom'd bough, than we.º.o. ºliº
ºn tº bº.
And blithesome nights, too, have been ours,
When Winter stript the summer's bowers; º;
Careless we heard, what now I hear, nº ºf
The wild blast sighing deep and drear,


TO CANTO FOURTH, 481,
When fires were bright, and lamps beamed gay,
And ladies tuned the lovely lay;
And he was held a laggard soul,
Who shun'd to quaff the sparkling bowl.
Then he, whose absence we deplore,
Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore,
The longer missed, bewailed the more;
And thou, and I, and dear-loved R—,
And one whose name I may not say,+ .
For not Mimosa's tender tree
Shrinks sooner from the touch than he,
In merry chorus well combined,
With laughter drowned the whistling wind.
Mirth was within; and Care without
Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout.
Not but amid the buxom scene
Some grave discourse might intervene—
Of the good horse that bore him best,
His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest:


182 INTRODUCTION, &e.
For, like mad Tom's,” our chiefest care,
Was horse to ride, and weapon wear.
Such nights we've had; and, though the game
Of manhood be more sober tame,
And though the field-day, or the drill,
Seem less important now—yet still
Such may we hope to share again.
The sprightly thought inspires my strain ;
And mark, how like a horseman true,
Lord Marmion’s march I thus renew.
* See King Lear.


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‘ſ 185 )
w
MARMION.
CANTO FOURTH,
'Cie Camp,
I.
EustAce, I said, did blithely mark
The first notes of the merry lark.
The lark sung shrill, the cock he crew, -
And loudly Marmion’s bugles blew,
And, with their light and lively call,
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall.
Whistling they came, and free of heart;
But soon their mood was changed:
Complaint was heard on every part,
Of something disarranged.


186 MARMION, CANTo IV.
Some clamoured loud for armour lost;
Some brawled and wrangled with the host;
“By Becket's bones,” cried one, “I fear,
That some false Scot has stolen my spear!”—
Young Blount, Lord Marmion’s second squire,
Found his steed wet with sweat and mire;
Although the rated horse-boy sware,
Last night he dressed him sleek and fair.
While chafed the impatient squire like thunder,
Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder,
“Help, gentle Blountſ help, comrades all!
Bevis lies dying in his stall:
To Marmion who the plight dare tell,
Of the good steed he loves so well ?”—
Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw
The charger panting on his straw;
Till one, who would seem wisest, cried,
* What else but evil could betide,
With that cursed Palmer for our guide?


ganto live THE CAMP. 187
Better we had through mire and bush
Been lanthorn-led by Friar Rush.”
II.
Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guessed,
Nor wholly understood,
His comrades' clamourous plaints suppressed;
He knew Lord Marmion’s mood.
Him, ere he issued forth, he sought,
And found deep plunged in gloomy thought,
And did his tale display
Simply, as if he knew of nought
To cause such disarray.
Lord Marmion gave attention cold,
Nor marvelled at the wonders told,—
Passed them as accidents of course,
And bade his clarions sound to horse.
* Alias Will o'the Wisp. See Note.


188 MARMION. GANTO IV.,
, III.
Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost
Had reckoned with their Scottish host;
And, as the charge he cast and paid,
".. Ill thou deserv'st thy hire,” he said;
“ Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight?
Fairies have ridden him all the night,
And left him in a foam |
I trust, that soon a conjuring band,
With English cross and blazing brand,
Shall drive the devils from this land,
To their infernal home :
For in this haunted den, I trow,
All night they trampled to and fro”—
The laughing host looked on the hire,
“Gramercy, gentle southern squire,
And if thou com’st among the rest,
With Scottish broad sword to be blest,
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow,
And short the pang to undergo.”—


c into Iw. THE CAMP. 189
Here stayed their talk, for Marmion
Gave now the signal to set on.
The Palmer shewing forth the way,
They journeyed all the morning day.
IV. -
The green-sward way was smooth and good,
Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood;
A forest glade, which, varying still,
Here gave a view of dale and hill;
There narrower closed, till over head
A vaulted screen the branches made.
“A pleasant path,” Fitz-Eustace said;
“Such as where errant knights might see
Adventures of high chivalry;
Might meet some damsel flying fast,
With hair unbound, and looks aghast;
And smooth and level course were here,
In her defence to break a spear.
Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells;
And oft, in such, the story tells,


100 MARMION. canto twº-
The damsel kind, from danger freed,
Did grateful pay her champion's meed.”—
He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion’s mind;
Perchance to shew his lore designed;
For Eustace much had pored
Upon a huge romantic tome,
In the hall-window of his home,
Imprinted at the antique dome
Of Caxton or De Worde.
Therefore he spoke, -but spoke in vain;
For Marmion answered nought again.
W.
Now sudden distant trumpets shrill,
In notes prolonged by wood and hill,
Were heard to echo far;
Each ready archer grasped his bow,
But by the flourish soon they know,
They breathed no point of war.
Yet cautious, as in foeman's land,
Lord Marmion’s order speeds the band,


c.Anto Iw. THE CAMP. I91
Some opener ground to gain;
And scarce a furlong had they rode,
When thinner trees, receding, shewed
A little woodland plain.
Just in that advantageous glade,
The halting troop a line had made,
As forth from the opposing shade
Issued a gallant train.
WI.
First came the trumpets, at whose clang
So late the forest echoes rang;
On prancing steeds they forward pressed,
With scarlet mantle, azure vest;
Each at his trump a banner wore,
Which Scotland's royal scutcheon bore:
Heralds and pursuivants, by name
Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came,
In painted tabards, proudly showing
Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing,


192 MARMION. CANTo iv.
Attendant on a King-at-arms,
Whose hand the armorial truncheon held,
That feudal strife had often quelled,
When wildest its alarms.
VII.
He was a man of middle age;
In aspect manly, grave, and sage,
As on king's errand come ;
But in the glances of his eye,
A penetrating, keen, and sly
Expression found its home;
The flash of that satiric rage,
Which, bursting on the early stage,
Branded the vices of the age,
And broke the keys of Rome.
On milk-white palfrey forth he paced;
His cap of maintenance was graced
With the proud heron-plume.
11.


CANTO Iw, THE CAMP.
193
From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast,
Silk housings swept the ground,
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.
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.
A train, which well beseemed his state,
But all unarmed, around him wait.
Still is thy name in high account,
And still thy verse has charms,
Sir David Lindesay of the Mount,
Lord Lion King-at-arms


194 MARMION. CANTO Iv.
VIII.
Down from his horse did Marmion spring,
Soon as he saw the Lion-King;
For well the stately Baron knew,
To him such courtesy was due,
Whom royal James himself had crowned,
And on his temples placed the round
Of Scotland's ancient diadem;
And wet his brow with hallowed wine,
And on his finger given to shine
The emblematic gem.
Their mutual greetings duly made,
The Lion thus his message said:—
“Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore,
Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more,
And strictly hath forbid resort
From England to his royal court;
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name,
And honours much his warlike fame,
My liege hath deemed it shame, and lack
Of courtesy, to turn him back;


CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 19
5
And, by his order, I, your guide,
Must lodging fit and fair provide,
Till finds King James meet time to see
The flower of English chivalry.”—
IX.
Though inly chafed at this delay,
Lord Marmion bears it as he may.
The Palmer, his mysterious guide,
Beholding thus his place supplied,
Sought to take leave in vain :
Strict was the Lion-King's command,
That none; who rode in Marmion’s band,
Should sever from the train:
“England has here enow of spies
In Lady Heron's witching eyes;”
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said,
But fair pretext to Marmion made.
The right-hand path they now decline,
And trace against the stream the Tyne.


196 MARMION. CANTO IV.
X.
At length up that wild dale they wind,
Where Crichtoun-Castle crowns the bank;
For there the Lion's care assigned
A lodging meet for Marmion’s rank.
That Castle rises on the steep
Of the green vale of Tyne;
And far beneath, where slow they creep
From pool to eddy, dark and deep,
Where alders moist, and willows weep,
You hear her streams repine.
The towers in different ages rose;
Their various architecture shows
The builders' various hands;
A mighty mass, that could oppose,
When deadliest hatred fired its foes,
The vengeful Douglas bands.
XI.
Crichtoun , though now thy miry court
But pens the lazy steer and sheep,
Thy turrets rude, and tottered Keep,


gANTo live THE CAMP. 197
Have been the minstrel's loved resort.
Oft have I traced within thy fort,
Of mouldering shields the mystic sense,
Scutcheons of honour, or pretence,
Quartered in old armorial sort,
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 court-yard's graceful portico;
Above its cornice, row and row
Offair hewn facets richly show
Their pointed diamond form,
Though there but houseless cattle go
To shield them from the storm.
And, shuddering, still may we explore,
Where oft whilome were captives pent,
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198 MARMION. canto rve
The darkness of thy Massy More;”
Or, from thy grass-grown battlement,
May trace, in undulating line,
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne.
XII.
Another aspect Crichtoun shewed,
As through its portal Marmion rode;
But yet ’twas melancholy state
Received him at the outer gate;
For none were in the castle then,
But women, boys, or aged men.
With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame,
To welcome noble Marmion, came;
Her son, a stripling twelve years old,
Proffered the Baron's rein to hold;
For each man, that could draw a sword,
Had marched that morning with their lord,
* The pit, or prison vault. See Note.


GAnto IV a THE CAMP. 199
Earl Adam Hepburn,--he who died
On Flodden, by his sovereign's side,
Long may his Lady look in vain
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.
XIII.
And here two days did Marmion rest,
With every rite that honour claims,
Attended as the king's own guest,-
Such the command of royal James;
Who marshalled then his land's array,
Upon the Borough-moor that lay.
Perchance he would not foeman's eye
Upon his gathering host should pry,
Till full prepared was every band
To march against the English land.
Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit
Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit;
º
-ºº
º*
º
º


200 MARMION, CANTo iW.
And, in his turn, he knew to prize
Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise,
Trained in the lore of Rome, and Greece,
And policies of war and peace.
XIV.
It chanced, as fell the second night,
That on the battlements they walked,
And, by the slowly fading light,
Of varying topics talked;
And, unaware, the Herald-bard
Said, Marmion might his toil have spared,
In travelling so far;
For that a messenger from heaven
In vain to James had counsel given
Against the English war:
And, closer questioned, thus he told
A tale, which chronicles of old
In Scottish story have enrolled:—


CANTO IV, THE CAMP. 201
XV.
ğir HDaúit littbegap'º Caſe,
Of all the palaces so fair,
Built for the royal dwelling,
In Scotland, far beyond compare
Linlithgow is excelling; w
And in its park, in jovial June,
How sweet the merry linnet's tune,
How blithe the blackbird's lay !
The wild buck bells" from ferny brake,
The coot dives merry on the lake,
The saddest heart might pleasure take
To see all nature gay.
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.
Woe to the traitors, who could bring
* An ancient word for the cry of deer, See Note.


202 MARMION. CANTo IV,
The princely boy against his King !
Still in his conscience burns the sting.
In offices as strict as Lent,
King James's June is ever spent.
XVI.
“When last this ruthful month was come,
And in Linlithgow's holy dome
The King, as wont, was praying;
While for his royal father's soul
The chaunters sung, the bells did toll,
The Bishop mass was saying—
For now the year brought round again
The day the luckless king was slain—
In Katharine's aisle the monarch knelt,
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt,
And eyes with sorrow streaming;
Around him, in their stalls of state,
The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate,
Their banners o'er them beaming.


CANTo iv. THE CAMP. $03
I too was there, and, sooth to tell,
Bedeafened with the jangling knell,
Was watching where the sunbeams fell,
Through the stained casement gleaming;
But, while I marked what next befel,
It seemed as I were dreaming.
Stepped from the crowd a ghostly wight,
In azure gown, with cincture white;
His forehead bald, his head was bare,
Down hung at length his yellow hair.—
Now, mock me not, when, good my Lord,
I pledge to you my knightly word,
That, when I saw his placid grace,
His simple majesty of face,
His solemn bearing, and his pace
So stately gliding on, -
Seemed to me ne'er did limner paint
So just an image of the Saint,
Who propped the Virgin in her faint-
The loved Apostle John.


204 MARMION. cANTo iv.
XVII.
“He stepped before the Monarch's chair,
And stood with rustic plainness there,
And little reverence made;
Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent,
But on the desk his arm he leant,
And words like these he said,
In a low voice,—but never tone
So thrilled through vein, and nerve, and bone:–
* My mother sent me from afar,
Sir King, to warn thee not to war,
Woe waits on thine array;
If war thou wilt, of woman fair,
Her witching wiles and wanton snare,
James Stuart, doubly warned, beware:
God keep thee as he may !’-
The wondering Monarch seemed to seek
For answer, and found none;
And when he raised his head to speak,
The monitor was gone.


CANTO IV. THE CAMP. - 205
The Marshal and myself had cast
To stop him as he outward past;
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast,
He vanished from our eyes,
Like sunbeam on the billow cast,
That glances but, and dies.”—
XVIII.
While Lindesay told this marvel strange,
The twilight was so pale,
He marked not Marmion’s colour change,
While listening to the tale:
But, after a suspended pause,
The Baron spoke:—“ Of Nature's laws
So strong I held the force,
That never super-human cause
Could e'er controul their course;
And, three days since, had judged your aim
Was but to make your guest your game.
But I have seen, since past the Tweed,
What much has changed my sceptic creed,


206 MARMION. CANTo lv.
And made me credit aught.”—He staid,
And seemed to wish his words unsaid:
But, by that strong emotion pressed,
Which prompts us to unload our breast,
Even when discovery's pain,
To Lindesay did at length unfold
The tale his village host had told,
At Gifford, to his train.
Nought of the Palmer says he there,
And nought of Constance, or of Clare :
The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems
To mention but as feverish dreams.
~
XIX.
“In vain,” said he, “to rest I spread
My burning limbs, and couched my head:
Fantastic thoughts returned;
And, by their wild dominion led,
My heart within me burned.
So sore was the delirious goad,
I took my steed, and forth I rode,


CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 207
And, as the moon shone bright and cold,
Soon reached the camp upon the wold.
The southern entrance I passed through,
And halted, and my bugle blew.
Methought an answer met my ear,
Yet was the blast so low and drear,
So hollow, and so faintly blown,
It might be echo of my own.
XX.
Thus judging, for a little space
I listened, ere I left the place;
But scarce could trust my eyes,
Nor yet can think they served me true, ,
When sudden in the ring I view,
In form distinct of shape and hue,
A mounted champion rise.—
I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day,
In single fight, and mixed affray,
And ever, I myself may say,


208 MARMION. CANTO iv.
Have borne me as a knight;
But when this unexpected foe
Seemed starting from the gulph below:-
I care not though the truth I show,
I trembled with affright; -
And as I placed in rest my spear,
My hand so shook for very fear,
I scarce could couch it right,
XXI.
“Why need my tongue the issue tell?
We ran our course, my charger fell;-
What could he 'gainst the shock of hell?—
I rolled upon the plain.
High o'er my head, with threatening hand,
The spectre shook his naked brand,-
Yet did the worst remain;
My dazzled eyes I upward cast,-
Not opening hell itself could blast
Their sight, like what I saw

7


t;ANTO IV. THE CAMP. 209
º
º
º
º
º
:
Full on his face the moonbeam strook, - - º
º
º
A face could never be mistook 1
º
I knew the stern vindictive look,
And held my breath for awe.
ººH
I saw the face of one who, fled
ººº
To foreign climes, has long been dead,
I well believe the last;
For ne'er, from visor raised, did stare
A human warrior, with a glare
So grimly and so ghast.
Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade;
But when to good Saint George I prayed,
(The first time e'er I asked his aid,)
He plunged it in the sheath ;
And, on his courser mounting light,
He seemed to vanish from my sight:
The moon-beam drooped, and deepest night
Sunk down upon the heath.-
o


210 MARMION CANTo lv.
"Twere long to tell what cause I have
To know his face, that met me there,
Called by his hatred from the grave,
To cumber upper air :
Dead, or alive, good cause had he
To be my mortal enemy.”—
XXII
Marvelled Sir David of the Mount;
Then, learned in story, 'gan recount
such chance had hap'd of old,
When once, near Norham, there did fight
A spectre fell. of fiendish might,
In likeness of a Scottish knight,
With Brian Bulmer bold,
And trained him nigh to disallow
The aid of his baptismal vow.
“And such a phantom, too, 'tis said,
With Highland broad-sword, targe, and plaid,
And fingers red with gore,

5


c.Anto Iv. THE CAMP. - 21 I
Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade,
Or where the sable pine-trees shade
Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid,
Dromouchty, or Glenmore.* *
And yet, whate'er such legends say,
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay,
On mountain, moor, or plain,
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold,
True son of chivalry should hold
These midnight terrors vain;
For seldom have such spirits power
To harm, save in the evil hour,
When guilt we meditate within,
Or harbour unrepented sin.”—
Lord Marmion turned him half aside,
And twice to clear his voice he tried,
Then pressed Sir David's hand,-
But nought, at length, in answer said;
And here their farther converse staid,
* See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spec-
tre called Lhamdearg, or Bloody-hand, in a note on
Canto III.


212 MARMION. CANTo IV.
Each ordering that his band
Should bowne them with the rising day,
To Scotland's camp to take their way,+
Such was the King's command.
XXIII.
Early they took Dun-Edin's road,
And I could trace each step they trode ;
Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone
Lies on the path to me unknown.
Much might it boast of storied lore;
But, passing such digression o'er,
Suffice it, that their route was laid
Across the furzy hills of Braid.
They passed the glen and scanty rill,
And climbed the opposing bank, until
They gained the top of Blackford Hill.
XXIV.
Blackford ' on whose uncultured breast,
Among the broom, and thorn, and whin,


CANTO ive THE CAMP. 243
A truant-boy, I sought the nest,
Or listed, as I lay at rest,
While rose, on breezes thin,
The murmur of the city crowd,
And, from his steeplejangling loud,
Saint Giles's mingling din.
Now, from the summit to the plain,
Waves all the hill with yellow grain;
And o'er the landscape as I look,
Nought do I see unchanged remain,
Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook,
To me they make a heavy moan,
Of early friendships past and gone.
XXV.
But different far the change has been,
Since Marmion, from the crown
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene
Upon the bent so brown:
Thousand pavilions, white as snow,
Spread all the Borough-moor below,


214 MARMION. CANTO IV.
Upland, and dale, and down:—
A thousand did I say? I ween,
Thousands on thousands there were seen,
That chequered all the heath between
The streamlet and the town;
In crossing ranks extending far,
Forming a camp irregular;
Oft giving way, where still there stood
Some reliques of the old oak wood,
That darkly huge did intervene,
And tamed the glaring white with green :
In these extended lines there lay
A martial kingdom's vast array.
XXVI.
For from Hebudes, dark with rain,
To eastern Lodon’s fertile plain,
And from the southern Redswire edge,
To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge;
From west to east, from south to north,
Scotland sent all her warriors forth.


canto iv. THE CAMP. 215
Marmion might hear the mingled hum
Of myriads up the mountain come;
The horses' tramp, and tingling clank,
Where chiefs reviewed their vassal rank,
And charger's shrilling neigh;
And see the shifting lines advance,
While frequent flashed, from shield and lance,
The sun's reflected ray.
XXVII.
Thin curling in the morning air,
The wreaths of failing smoke declare,
To embers now the brands decayed,
Where the night-watch their fires had made.
They saw, slow rolling on the plain,
Full many a baggage-cart and wain,
And dire artillery's clumsy car,
By sluggish oxen tugged to war;
And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,*
And culverins which France had given.
* Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick,
i


216 MARMION. canto Iv.
Ill-omened giftſ the guns remain
The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain.
XXVIII.
Nor marked they less, where in the air
A thousand streamers flaunted fair;
Various in shape, device, and hue,
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue,
Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square,
Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol,” there
O'er the pavilions flew.
Highest, and midmost, was descried
The royal banner, floating wide;
The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight,
Pitched deeply in a massive stone,
Which still in memory is shown,
Yet bent beneath the standard's weight,
Whene'er the western wind unrolled,
* Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank
of those entitled to display them. -


GAnto IV. THE CAMP. 217
With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold,
And gave to view the dazzling field,
Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield,
The ruddy Lion ramped in gold.
XXIX.
Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright,
He viewed it with a chief's delight,
Until within him burned his heart,
And lightning from his eye did part,
- As on the battle-day;
Such glance did falcon never dart,
When stooping on his prey.
“Oh well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said,
Thy King from warfare to dissuade
Were but a vain essay;
For, by Saint George, were that host mine,
Not power infernal, nor divine,
Should once to peace my soul incline,
Till I had dimmed their armour's shine
*.


218 MARMION. çANTo ºv.
In glorious battle fray !”—
Answered the bard, of milder mood:
“Fair is the sight, and yet ’twere good,
That kings would think withal,
When peace and wealth their land has blessed,
"Tis better to sit still at rest,
Than rise, perchance to fall.”—
XXX.
Still on the spot Lord Marmion stayed,
For fairer scene he ne'er surveyed.
When sated with the martial show
That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er it go,
And mark the distant city glow
With gloomy splendour red;
For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow,
That round her sable turrets flow,
The morning beams were shed,
And tinged them with a lustre proud,
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.


CANto IV. THE CAMP. 210
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height,
Where the huge castle holds its state
And all the steep slope down,
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massy, close and high,
Mine own romantic town
But northward far, with purer blaze, -
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,
And as each heathy top they kissed,
It gleamed a purple amethyst.
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ;
Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law;
And, broad between them rolled,
The gallant Firth the eye might note,
Whose island. On its bosom float,
Like emeralds chased in gold.
Fitz-Eustace’ heart felt closely pent;
As if to give his rapture vent,
[he spur he to his charger lent,
And raised his bridle-hand,
-*


220 MARMION. CAN to IV.
And, making demi-volte in air,
Cried, “ w here's the coward that would not dare
To fight for such a land "
The Lindesay smiled hi. joy to see ;
Nor Marmion’s frown repressed his glee.
XXXI.
Thus while they looked, a flourish proud,
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud,
And fife, and kettle-drum,
And sackbut deep, and psaltery,
And war-pipe with discordant cry,
And cymbal clattering to the sky,
Making wild music bold and high,
Did up the mountain come;
The whilst the bells, with distant chime,
Merrily tolled the hour of prime,
And thus the Lindesay spoke:—
“Thus clamour still the war-notes when
The King to mass his way has ta'en,


Canto iv. THE CAMP. 221
Or to St Catherine's of Sienne,
Or chapel of Saint Rocque.
To you they speak of martial fame;
But me remind of peaceful game,
When blither was their cheer,
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare,
But strive which foremost might repair
To the downfall of the deer.
XXXII.
“Nor less,” he said, “when looking forth,
I view yon Empress of the North
Sit on her hilly throne;
Her palace's imperial bowers,
Her castle, proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls, and holy towers—
Nor less,” he said, “I moan,
o think what woe mischance may bring,
nd how these merry bells may ring
he death-dirge of our gallant King;


CANTo IV.
THE CAMP.
eae
eae
∞
And fit his harp the pomp to sing,
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King,
In the succeeding lay.
END OF CAN TO FOURTH,
º





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MARMION.
3ntrobuſtion to Canto #iftſ,


- - - - - -


| 227 J
TO - º
GEORGE ELLIS, Esq.
Edinburgh.
WHEN dark December glooms the day,
And takes our autumn joys away;
When short and scant the sun-beam throws,
Upon the weary waste of snows,
A cold and profitless regard,
Like patron on a needy bard;
When sylvan occupation's done,
And o'er the chimney rests the gun,
And hang, in idle trophy, near,
The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear;
3


228 INTRODUCTION
When wiry terrier, rough and grim,
And greyhound with his length of limb,
And pointer, now employed no more,
Cumber our parlour's narrow floor;
When in his stall the impatient steed
Is long condemned to rest and feed;
When from our snow-encircled home,
Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam,
Since path is none, save that to bring
The needful water from the spring;
When wrinkled news-page, thrice cond o'er,
Beguiles the dreary hour no more,
And darkling politician, crossed,
Inveighs against the lingering post,
And answering house-wife sore complains
Of carriers' snow-impeded wains:
When such the country cheer, I come,
Well pleased, to seek our city home;
For converse, and for books, to change
The Forest's melancholy range,


TO CANTO FIFTH. 220
And welcome, with renewed delight,
The busy day, and social night.
Not here need my desponding rhyme
Lament the ravages of time,
As erst by Newark's riven towers,
And Ettricke stripped of forest bowers.”
True-Caledonia's Queen is changed,
Since on her dusky summit ranged,
Within its steepy limits pent,
By bulwark, line, and battlement,
And flanking towers, and laky flood,
Guarded and garrisoned she stood,
Denying entrance or resort,
Save at each tall embattled port;
Above whose arch, suspended, hung
Portcullis spiked with iron prong.
That long is gone,—but not so long,
*See Introduction to Canto II,
|


230 1NTRODUCTION
" Since, early closed, and opening late,
Jealous revolved the studded gate;
Whose task from eve to morning tide
A wicket churlishly supplied.
Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow,
Dun-Edin' O, how altered now,
When safe amid thy mountain court
Thou sitst, like Empress at her sport,
And liberal, unconfined, and free,
Flinging thy white arms to the sea,
For thy dark cloud, with umbered lower,
That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower,
Thou gleam'st against the western ray
Ten thousand lines of brighter day.
Not she, the championess of old,
In Spenser's magic tale enrolled,—
She for the charmed spear renowned,
Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,-
-
Not she more changed, when, placed at rest,


TO CANTO FIFTH. 281
What time she was Malbecco's guest,”
She gave to flow her maiden west;
When from the corslet's grasp relieved,
Free to the sight her bosom heaved;
Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile,
Erst hidden by the aventayle;
And down her shoulders graceful rolled
Her locks profuse, of paly gold.
They who whilome, in midnight fight,
Had marvelled at her matchless might,
No less her maiden charms approved, iſ º.
But looking liked, and liking loved.} : * *
The sight could jealous pangs beguile, º'
And charm Malbecco's cares awhile;
And he, the wandering Squire of Dames,
Forgot his Columbella's claims,
And passion, erst unknown, could gain
The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane;
* See “The Fairy Queen,” Book III. Canto IX.
+ “For every one her liked, and every one her loved.”
SPENSER, as above.
:


232 INTRODUCTION
Nor durst light Paridel advance,
Bold as he was, a looser glance,—
She charmed, at once, and tamed the heart,
Incomparable Britomarte'
So thou, fair City' disarrayed
Of battled wall, and rampart's aid,
As stately seem'st, but lovelier far
Than in that panoply of war.
Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne
Strength and security are flown;
Still, as of yore, Queen of the North !
Still canst thou send thy children forth.
Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call
Thy burghers rose to man thy wall,
Than now, in danger, shall be thine,
Thy dauntless voluntary line;
For fosse and turret proud to stand,
Their breasts the bulwarks of the land.
Thy thousands, trained to martial toil,
Full red would stain their native soil,
*—l

8


TO CANTO FIFTH, 233
Ere from thy mural crown there fell
The slightest knosp, or pinnacle.
And if it come, as come it may,
Dun-Edin' that eventful day,+
Renowned for hospitable deed,
That virtue much with heaven may plead,
In patriarchal times whose care
Descending angels deigned to share;
That claim may wrestle blessings down
On those who fight for the Good Town,
Destined in every age to be
Refuge of injured royalty;
Since first, when conquering York arose,
To Henry meek she gave repose,
Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe,
Great Bourbon's reliques, sad she saw.
Truce to these thoughts!—for, as they rise,
How gladly I avert mine eyes,
Bodings, or true or false, to change,
For Fiction's fair romantic range,


234 INTRODUCTION
Or for Tradition's dubious light,
That hovers 'twixt the day and night:
Dazzling alternately and dim,
Her wavering lamp I’d rather trim,
Knights, squires, and lovely dames to see,
Creation of my fantasy,
Than gaze abroad on reeky fen,
And make of mists invading men—
Who loves not more the night of June
Than dull December's gloomy noon :
The moonlight than the fog of frost:
And can we say, which cheats the most
But who shall teach my harp to gain
A sound of the romantic strain, . . . .
Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere
Could win the Second Henry's ear,
Famed Beauclerc called, for that he loved
The minstrel, and his lay approved
Who shall these lingering notes redeem,
Decaying on Oblivion's stream;


TO CANTO FIFTH. 235
Such notes as from the Breton tongue
Marie translated, Blondel sung —
O! born Time's ravage to repair,
And make the dying Muse thy care;
Who, when his scythe her hoary foe
Was poising for the final blow, -
The weapon from his hand could wring,
And break his glass, and shear his wing,
And bid, reviving in his strain,
The gentle poet live again;
Thou, who canst give to lightest lay
An unpedantic moral gay, “. . .
Nor less the dullest theme bid flit . . . . .
On wings of unexpected wit;
In letters as in life approved,
Example honoured, and beloved,—
Dear ELL1s l to the bard impart
A lesson of thy magic art, - : * ~ *
To win at once the head and heart,
At once to charm, instruct, and mend,
My guide, my pattern, and my friend!
:
ſ


236 INTRODUCTION
Such minstrel lesson to bestow
Be long thy pleasing task, but, O!
No more by thy example teach
What few can practice, all can preach;
With even patience to endure
Lingering disease, and painful cure,
And boast affliction's pangs subdued
By mild and manly fortitude.
Enough, the lesson has been given:
Forbid the repetition, Heaven :
Come listen, then for thou hast known,
And loved, the Minstrel's varying tone;
Who, like his Border sires of old,
Waked a wild measure, rude and bold,
Till Windsor’s oaks, and Ascot plain,
With wonder heard the northern strain.
Come, listen!—bold in thy applause,
The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws;
And, as the ancient art could stain
Achievements on the storied pane,


TO CANTO FIFTH,
§
�N，
Irregularly traced and planned,
But yet so glowing and so grand;
So shall he strive, in changeful hue,
F
~
feast, and combat, to renew,
ield,
And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee,
And all the pomp of chivalry.





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CANTO W, THE COURT. 243
Young knights and squires, a lighter train,
Practised their chargers on the plain,
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein,
Each warlike feat to show;
To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,
And high curvett, that not in vain
The sword-sway might descend amain
On foeman's casque below.
He saw the hardy burghers there
March armed, on foot, with faces bare,
For visor they wore none,
Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight;
But burnished were their corslets bright,
Their brigantines, and gorgets light,
Like very silver shone.
Long pikes they had for standing fight,
Two-handed swords they wore,
And many wielded mace of weight,
And bucklers bright they bore.


244 MARMION. c.Anto v.
III.
On foot the yeoman too, but dressed
In his steeljack, a swarthy vest,
With iron quilted well;
Each at his back, (a slender store.)
His forty days provision bore,
As feudal statutes tell.
His arms were halbard, axe, or spear,
A eross-bow there, a hagbut here,
A dagger-knife, and brand.-
Sober he seemed, and sad of cheer,
As loth to leave his cottage dear,
And march to foreign strand;
Or musing, who would guide his steer,
To till the fallow land.
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye
Did aught of dastard terror lie ;-
More dreadful far his ire,
Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name,


& Anto w. THE COURT. 245
In eager mood to battle came,
Their valour like light straw on flame,
A fierce but fading fire.
Iv.
Not so the Borderer:-bred to war,
He knew the battle's din afar,
And joyed to hear it swell.
His peaceful day was slothful ease;
Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please,
Like the loud slogan yell.
On active steed, with lance and blade,
The light-armed pricker plied his trade,-
Let nobles fight for fame;
Let vassals follow where they lead,
Burghers, to guard their townships, bleed,
But war's the Borderers' game.
Their gain, their glory, their delight,
To sleep the day, maraud the night,
O'er mountain, moss, and moor;
--
.


246 MARMION. CANTo W.
Joyful to fight they took their way,
Scarce caring who might win the day,
Their booty was secure.
These, as Lord Marmion’s train passed by,
Looked on at first with careless eye,
Nor marvelled aught, well taught to know
The form and force of English bow.
But when they saw the Lord arrayed
In splendid arms, and rich brocade,
Each Borderer to his kinsman said,
“Hist, Ringan seest thou there !
Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride :
O! could we but on Border side, -
By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide,
Beset a prize so fairſ
That fangless Lion, too, their guide,
Might chance to lose his glistering hide;
Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied,
Could make a kirtle rare.”


c.An TO W. THE COURT. 247
W.
Next Marmion marked the Celtic race,
Of different language, form, and face,
A various race of man;
Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed,
And wild and garish semblance made,
The chequered trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes the war-pipes brayed
To every varying clan;
Wild through their red or sable hair
Looked out their eyes, with savage stare,
On Marmion as he past;
Their legs above the knee were bare;
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,
And hardened to the blast;
Of taller race, the chiefs they own
Were by the eagle's plumage known.
The hunted red-deer's undressed hide
Their hairy buskins well supplied ;
The graceful bonnet decked their head;
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid;
s
."--s--º
!
º
º


248 MARMION. c.Anto w.
A broad-sword of unwieldy length,
A dagger proved for edge and strength,
A studded targe they wore,
And quivers, bows, and shafts,L-but, O!
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow,
To that which England bore.
The Isles-men carried at their backs
The ancient Danish battle-axe.
They raised a wild and wondering cry,
As with his guide rode Marmion by.
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,
And, with their cries discordant mixed,
Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwixt,
VI.
Thus through the Scottish camp they passed,
And reached the City gate at last,
Where all around, a wakeful guard,
Armed burghers kept their watch and ward.
|


cANTO v. THE court. 249
Well had they cause of jealous fear,
When lay encamped, in field so near,
The Borderer and the Mountaineer.
As through the bustling streets they go,
All was alive with martial show ;
At every turn, with dinning clang,
The armourer's anvil clashed and rang;
Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel
The bar that arms the charger's heel;
Or axe, or faulchion, to the side
Of jarring grind-stone was applied.
Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace,
Through street, and lane, and market-place,
Bore lance, or casque, or sword;
While burghers, with important face,
Described each new-come lord,
Discussed his lineage, told his name,
His following,” and his warlike fame.—
The Lion led to lodging meet,
Which high o'erlooked the crowded street;
*
* Following—Feudal Retainers.
-
i
*


250 MARMION. GAnto w.
There must the Baron rest,
Till past the hour of vesper tide,
And then to Holy-Rood must ride,-
Such was the King's behest.
Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns
A banquet rich, and costly wines,
To Marmion and his train.
And when the appointed hour succeeds,
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,
And following Lindesay as he leads,
The palace-halls they gain.
VII.
Old Holy-Rood rung merrily,
That night, with wassal, mirth, and glee :
King James within her princely bower
Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power,
Summoned to spend the parting hour;
For he had charged, that his array
Should southward march by break of day.
Well loved that splendid monarch aye


canto V, THE COURT. 251
The banquet and the song,
. By day the tourney, and by night
The merry dance, traced fast and light,
The masquers quaint, the pageant bright,
The revel loud and long.
This feast outshone his banquets past;
It was his blithest,-and his last.
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay,
Cast on the court a dancing ray;
Here to the harp did minstrels sing;
There ladies touched a softer string ;
With long-eared cap, and motley vest,
The licensed fool retailed his jest;
His magic tricks the juggler plied;
At dice and draughts the gallants vied;
While some, in close recess apart,
Courted the ladies of their heart,
Nor courted them in vain;
For often, in the parting hour,
Victorious love asserts his power
-!


25.2 MARMION. t.Anto W.
\
O'er coldness and disdain;
And flinty is her heart, can view
To battle march a lover true,
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu,
Nor own her share of pain.
VIII.
Through this mixed crowd of glee and game,
The King to greet Lord Marmion came,
While, reverend, all made room.
An easy task it was, I trow,
King James's manly form to know,
Although, his courtesy to show,
He doffed, to Marmion bending low,
His broidered cap and plume.
For royal were his garb and mien,
His cloak, of crimson velvet piled,
Trimmed with the fur of martin wild;
His vest, of changeful sattin sheen,
The dazzled eye beguiled;


GAN to w. THE COURT,
His gorgeous collar hung adown,
Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown,
The thistle brave, of old renown;
His trusty blade, Toledo right,
Descended from a baldric bright;
White were his buskins, on the heel
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel;
His bonnet, all of crimson fair,
Was buttoned with a ruby rare:
And Marmion deemed he ne'er had seen
A prince of such a noble mien.
IX.
The Monarch's form was middle size;
For feat of strength, or exercise,
Shaped in proportion fair;
And hazle was his eagle eye,
And auburn of the darkest dye,
His short curled beard and hair.
Light was his footstep in the dance,
And firm his stirrup in the lists;


254 MARMION. CANTo wr,
And, oh! he had that merry glance,
That seldom lady's heart resists.
Lightly from fair to fair he flew,
And loved to plead, lament, and sue;—
Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain!
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
I said he joyed in banquet-bower;
But, mid his mirth, 'twas often strange,
How suddenly his cheer would change,
His look o'ercast and lower,
If, in a sudden turn, he felt
The pressure of his iron belt,
That bound his breast in penance-pain,
In memory of his father slain.
Even so 'twas strange how, evermore,
Soon as the passing pang was o'er,
Forward he rushed, with double glee,
Into the stream of revelry:
Thus, dim-seen objeet of affright
Startles the courser in his flight,


6ANTo v. THE COURT. 255
And half he halts, half springs aside;
But feels the quickening spur applied,
And, straining on the tightened rein,
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain.
O'er James's heart, the courtiers say,
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway:
To Scotland's court she came,
To be a hostage for her lord,
Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored,
And with the King to make accord,
Had sent his lovely dame.
Nor to that lady free alone
Did the gay King allegiance own;
For the fair Queen of France
Sent him a Turquois ring, and glove,
And charged him, as her knight and love,
For her to break a lance;
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand,


256 MARMION. CANTo v.
And march three miles on Southron land,
And bid the banners of his band
In English breezes dance.
And thus, for France's Queen, he drest
His manly limbs in mailed vest;
And thus admitted English fair,
His inmost counsels still to share;
And thus, for both, he madly planned
The ruin of himself and land 1
And yet, the sooth to tell,
Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen,
Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen,
From Margaret's eyes that fell,—
His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower,
All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.
XI.
The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile,
And weeps the weary day,
The war against her native soil,
10


258 MARMION. GAnto v.
XII.
LOCH1N WAR.
Hlabp lºtrong £ong.
O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in War,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers,
and all:
11


can to V. THE COURT. 259
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word)
“O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, youn g Lord Lochinvarf"—
“I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.”
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,
“Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;


260 MARMION. GAnto w.
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, “ Twere better
by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Loch-
invar.”
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger
stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young
Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby
clan; -
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and
they ran :


.N. To v. THE COURT. 261
"here was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvari
XIII.
The Monarch o'er the syren hung,
And beat the measure as she sung;
And, pressing closer, and more near,
He whispered praises in her ear.
In loud applause the courtiers vied;
And ladies winked, and spoke aside.
The witching dame to Marmion threw
A glance, where seemed to reign
The pride that claims applauses due,
And of her royal conquest, too,
A real or feigned disdain:
Familiar was the look, and told,
Marmion and she were friends of old,
The King observed their meeting eyes,
With something like displeased surprise;


262 MARMION. canto W,
For monarchs ill can rivals brook,
Even in a word, or smile, or look.
Strait took he forth the parchment broad,
Which Marmion’s high commission showed:
“Our Borders sacked by many a raid,
Our peaceful liege-men robbed,” he said;
“On day of truce our Warden slain,
Stout Barton killed, his vessels ta'en—
Unworthy were we here to reign,
Should these for vengeance cry in vain;
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,
Our herald has to Henry borne.”—
XIV.
He paused, and led where Douglas stood,
And with stern eye the pageant viewed:
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Who coronet of Angus bore,
And, when his blood and heart were high,
Did the third James in camp defy,
. And all his minions led to die


A Nºro * = THE COURT. 263
On Lauder's dreary flat:
Princes and favourites long grew tame,
And trembled at the homely name
Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat.
The same who left the dusky vale
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale,
Its dungeons, and its towers,
Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air,
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair,
To fix his princely bowers.
Though now, in age, he had laid down
His armour for the peaceful gown,
And for a staff his brand,
Yet often would flash forth the fire,
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire
And minion's pride withstand;
And even that day, at council board,
Unapt to sooth his sovereign's mood,
Against the war had Angus stood,
And chafed his royal Lord.


264 MARMION. cANTo v.
XV.
His giant-form, like ruined tower,
Though fallen its muscles' brawny vaunt,
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt,
Seemed o'er the gaudy scene to lower:
His locks and beard in silver grew;
His eye-brows kept their sable hue.
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood,
His bitter speech he thus pursued :—
“Lord Marmion, since these letters say
That in the North you needs must stay,
While slightest hopes of peace remain,
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern,
To say—Return to Lindisfarn,
Until my herald come again.—
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold;
Your host shall be the Douglas bold,—
A chief unlike his sires of old.
He wears their motto on his blade,
Their blazon o'er his towers displayed;
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose,
More than to face his country's foes.


CAN to V. THE COURT. 265
And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen,
But e'en this morn to me was given
A prize, the first fruits of the war,
Ta’en by a galley from Dunbar,
A bevy of the maids of heaven.
Under your guard, these holy maids
Shall safe return to cloister shades,
And, while they at Tantallon stay,
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say.”—
And, with the slaughtered favourite's name,
Across the Monarch's brow there came
A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame.
XVI.
In answer nought could Angus speak;
His proud heart swelled well nigh to break:
He turned aside, and down his cheek
. A burning tear there stole.
His hand the Monarch sudden took,
That sight his kind heart could not brook:
“Now, by the Bruce's soul,


266 MARMION. GAN to v.
Angus, my hasty speech forgive
For sure as doth his spirit live,
As he said of the Douglas old,
I well may say of you, -
That never king did subject hold,
In speech more free, in war more bold,
More tender, and more true:*
Forgive me, Douglas, once again.”—
And, while the King his hand did strain,
The old man's tears fell down like rain.
To seize the moment Marmion tried,
And whispered to the King aside :-
“Oh! let such tears unwonted plead
For respite short from dubious deed .
A child will weep a bramble's smart,
A maid to see her sparrow part,
A stripling for a woman's heart:
But woe awaits a country, when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
* O, Dowglas! Dowglas !
Tendir and trew.
The Houlaté.


cANT0 v. . THE COURT, 267
Then, oh! what omen, dark and high,
When Douglas wets his manly eye *—
XVII.
Displeased was James, that stranger viewed
And tampered with his changing mood.
“Laugh those that can, weep those that may,”
Thus did the fiery Monarch say,
“Southward I march by break of day;
And if within Tantallon strong,
The good Lord Marmion tarries long,
Perchance our meeting next may fall
At Tamworth, in his castle-hall.”—
The haughty Marmion felt the taunt,
And answered, grave, the royal vaunt:
“Much honoured were my humble home,
If in its halls King James should come;
But Nottingham has archers good,
And Yorkshire men are stern of mood;
Northumbrian prickers wild and rude.


268 MARMION, cAnto v.
On Derby Hills the paths are steep;
In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep;
And many a banner will be torn,
And many a knight to earth be borne,
And many a sheaf of arrows spent,
Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent:
Yet pause, brave prince, while yet you may.”-
The Monarch lightly turned away,
And to his nobles loud did call,—
“ Lords, to the dance,—a hall! a hall !”*
Himself his cloak and sword flung by,
And led Dame Heron gallantly;
And minstrels, at the royal order,
Rung out—“Blue Bonnets o'er the Border.”
XVIII.
Leave we these revels now, to tel
What to Saint Hilda's maids befel,
* The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant.


(III// Canto We THE COURT. 269
Whose galley, as they sailed again
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en.
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide,
Till James should of their fate decide;
And soon, by his command,
Were gently summoned to prepare
To journey under Marmion’s care,
As escort honoured, safe, and fair,
Again to English land.
The Abbess told her chaplet o'er,
Nor knew which Saint she should implore;
For when she thought of Constance, sore
She feared Lord Marmion’s mood.
And judge what Clara must have felt!
The sword, that hung in Marmion’s belt,
Had drunk De Wilton's blood.
Unwittingly, King James had given,
As guard to Whitby's shades,
The man most dreaded under heaven
By these defenceless maids;
*


270 MARMION. GANT0 ve
Yet what petition could avail,
Or who would listen to the tale
Of woman, prisoner and nun,
Mid bustle of a war begun ?
They deemed it hopeless to avoid
The convoy of their dangerous guide.
)
XIX.
Their lodging, so the King assigned,
To Marmion's, as their guardian, joined;
And thus it fell, that, passing nigh,
The Palmer caught the Abbess’ eye,
Who warned him by a scroll,
She had a secret to reveal,
That much concerned the Church's weal,
And health of sinners’ soul;
And, with deep charge of secrecy,
She named a place to meet,
Within an open balcony,
That hung from dizzy pitch, and high,
Above the stately street;


canto We The court. 271
To which, as common to each home,
At night they might in secret come.
XX.
At night in secret there they came,
The Palmer and the holy dame.
The moon among the clouds rode high,
And all the city hum was by.
Upon the street, where late before
Did din of war and warriors roar,
You might have heard a pebble fall,
A beetle hum, a cricket sing,
An owlet flap his boding wing
On Giles's steeple tall.
The antique buildings, climbing high,
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky,
Were here wrapt deep in shade;
There on their brows the moon-beam broke,
Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke,
And on the casements played.


272 MARMION, CAN to W.
º
And other light was none to see,
Save torches gliding far,
Before some chieftain of degree,
Who left the royal revelry
To bowne him for the war.—
A solemn scene the Abbess chose ;
A solemn hour, her secret to disclose.
XXI.
* O, holy Palmer P’ she began,—
“ For sure he must be sainted man,
Whose blessed feet have trod the ground
Where the Redeemer's tomb is found;—
For his dear Church's sake, my tale
Attend, nor deem of light avail,
Though I must speak of worldly love,
How vain to those who wed above —
De Wilton and Lord Marmion wooed
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood;
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame,
To say of that same blood I came;)

- 4.


ganto W. THE COURT. - 273
And once, when jealous rage was high,
Lord Marmion said despiteously,
Wilton was traitor in his heart,
And had made league with Martin Swart,”
When he came here on Simnel's part;
And only cowardice did restrain -
His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain,_
And down he threw his glove:-the thing
Was tried, as wont, before the King;
Where frankly did De Wilton own,
That Swart in Guelders he had known;
And that between them then there went
Some scroll of courteous compliment.
For this he to his castle sent;
But when his messenger returned,
Judge how De Wilton's fury burned
For in his packet there were laid
* A German general, who commanded the auxiliaries sent
by the Duchess of Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. He was
defeated and killed at Stokefield.
s


274 - MARMION. CANTo W.
-
Letters that claimed disloyal aid,
And proved King Henry's cause betrayed.
His fame, thus blighted, in the field
He strove to clear, by spear and shield;-
To clear his fame in vain he strove,
For wondrous are His ways above 1
Perchance some form was unobserved;
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved;
Else how could guiltless champion quail,
Or how the blessed ordeal fail?
XXII.
“His squire, who now De Wilton saw
As recreant doomed to suffer law,
Repentant, owned in vain,
That, while he had the scrolls in care,
A stranger maiden, passing fair,
Had drenched him with a beverage rare;—
His words no faith could gain.
With Clare alone he credence won,

.3


GANTo W. THE COURT, 275
Who, rather than wed Marmion,
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair,
To give our house her livings fair,
And die a vestal vot’ress there.
The impulse from the earth was given,
But bent her to the paths of heaven.
A purer heart, a lovelier maid,
Ne'er sheltered her in Whitby's shade,
No, not since Saxon Edelfled;
Only one trace of earthly strain,
That for her lover's loss
She cherishes a sorrow vain,
And murmurs at the cross-
And then her heritage;—it goes
Along the banks of Tame;
Deep fields of grain the reaper mows,
In meadows rich the heifer lows,
The falconer, and huntsman, knows
Its woodlands for the game.
Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear,
And I, her humble vot’ress here,


276 MARMION. Canto W.
Should do a deadly sin,
Her temple spoiled before mine eyes,
If this false Marmion such a prize -
By my consent should win:
Yet hath our boisterous Monarch sworn,'
That Clare shall from our house be torn;
And grievous cause have I to fear,
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear.
XXIII.
“Now, prisoner, helpless, and betrayed
To evil power, I claim thine aid, .
By every step that thou hast trod
To holy shrine, and grotto dim;
By every martyr's tortured limb;
By angel, saint, and seraphim,
And by the Church of God!
For mark:—When Wilton was betrayed,
And with his squire forged letters laid,
She was, alas ! that sinful maid,
By whom the deed was done,—


CANTo V, THE COURT. 277
o! shame and horror to be said — 4
She was a perjured nun:
No clerk in all the land, like her,
Traced quaint and varying character.
Perchance you may a marvel deem,
That Marmion’s paramour,
(For such vile thing she was,) should scheme
Her lover's nuptial hour;
But o'er him thus she hoped to gain,
As privy to his honour. stain,
Ilimitable power:
For this she secretly retained
Each proof that might the plot reveal,
Instructions with his hand and seal;
And thus Saint Hilda deigned,
Through sinner's perfidy impure,
Her house's glory to secure,
And Clare's immortal weal.


278 MARMION. CANT0 v.
XXIV.
“”Twere long, and needless, here to tell,
How to my hand these papers fell;
With me they must not stay.
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true !
Who knows what outrage he might do,
While journeying by the way —
O, blessed Saint, if e'er again
I venturous leave thy calm domain,
To travel or by land or main,
Deep penance may I pay!—
Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer:
I give this packet to thy care,
For thee to stop they will not dare;
And, O! with cautious speed,
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,
That he may shew them to the King;
And, for thy well-earned meed,
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine
A weekly mass shall still be thine,
While priests can sing and read.—


286) MARMION. CANT0 W,
O! be his tomb as lead to lead,
Upon its dull destroyer's head —
A minstrel's malison* is said.—)
Then on its battlements they saw
A vision, passing Nature's law,
Strange, wild, and dimly seen;
Figures, that seemed to rise and die,
Gibber and sign, advance and fly,
While nought confirmed could ear or eye
Discern of sound or mien.
Yet darkly did it seem, as there
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare,
With trumpet sound, and blazon fair,
A summons to proclaim;
But indistinct the pageant proud,
As fancy forms of midnight cloud,
When flings the moon upon her shroud
A wavering tinge of flame;
* i. e. Curse.


canto ve THE COURT. 28i
It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,
From midmost of the spectre crowd,
This awful summons came :—
XXVI.
“Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,
Whose names I now shall call,
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!
Subjects of him who sent me here,
At his tribunal to appear,
I summon one and all :
I cite you by each deadly sin,
That e'er hath soiled your hearts within;
I cite you, by each brutal lust,
That e'er defiled your earthly dust,-
By wrath, by pride, by fear,
By each o'er-mastering passion's tone,
By the dark grave, and dying groanſ
When forty days are past and gone,
I cite you, at your Monarch's throne,
To answer and appear.”—


282 MARMION. CANTO We
Then thundered forth a roll of names:–
The first was thine, unhappy James!
Then all thy nobles came;
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle,
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,
Why should I tell their separate style :
Each chief of birth and fame,
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,
Fore-doomed to Flodden's carnage pile,
Was cited there by name;
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbay,
De Wilton, erst of Aberley,
The self-same thundering voice did say-
But then another spoke:
“Thy fatal summons I deny,
And thine infernal lord defy,
Appealing me to Him on High,
Who burst the sinner's yoke.”—
At that dread accent, with a scream,
Parted the pageant like a dream,


cANTo ve THE COURT. 283
The summoner was gone.
Prone on her face the Abbess fell,
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell;
Her nuns came, startled by the yell,
And found her there alone.
She marked not, at the scene aghast,
‘What time, or how, the Palmer passed.
XXVII.
Shift we the scene.—The camp doth move,
Dun-Edin's streets are empty now,
Save when, for weal of those they love,
To pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
The tottering child, the anxious fair,
The grey-haired sire, with pious care,
To chapels and to shrines repair.—
Where is the Palmer now and where
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare –
Bold Douglas ! to Tantalion fair
They journey in thy charge:


284 ~ MARMION. CANT0 v.
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand,
The Palmer still was with the band;
Angus, like Lindesay, did command,
That none should roam at large.
But in that Palmer's altered mien
A wondrous change might now be seen;
Freely he spoke of war,
Of marvels wrought by single hand,
When lifted for a native land ;
And still looked high, as if he planned
Some desperate deed afar.
His courser would he feed, and stroke,
And, tucking up his sable frocke,
Would first his metal bold provoke,
Then soothe, or quell his pride.
Old Hubert said, that never one
He saw, except Lord Marmion,
A steed so fairly ride.
º:
-


(; A.N.T0 Y. THE COURT. 285
XXVIII.
Some half-hour's march behind, there came,
By Eustace governed fair,
A troop escorting Hilda's Dame,
With all her nuns, and Clare.
No audience had Lord Marmion sought;
Ever he feared to aggravate
Clara de Clare's suspicious hate;
And safer 'twas, he thought,
To wait till, from the nuns removed,
The influence of kinsmen loved,
And suit by Henry's self approved,
Her slow consent had wrought.
His was no flickering flame, that dies
Unless when fanned by looks and sighs,
And lighted oft at lady's eyes;
He longed to stretch his wide command
O'er luckless Clara's ample land:
Besides, when Wilton with him vied,
Although the pang of humbled pride
The place of jealousy supplied,


286 MARMION. CAN to w.
Yet conquest, by that meanness won
He almost loathed to think upon,
Led him, at times, to hate the cause,
Which made him burst through honour's laws.
If e'er he loved, 'twas her alone,
Who died within that vault of stone.
XXIX.
And now, when close at hand they saw
North-Berwick's town, and lofty Law,
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while,
Before a venerable pile,
Whose turrets viewed, afar,
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle,
The ocean's peace, or war.
At tolling of a bell, forth came
The convent's venerable Dame,
And prayed Saint Hilda's Abbess rest
With her, a loved and honoured guest,
Till Douglas should a bark prepare,
To waft her back to Whitby fair.


GANTO V. THE COURT, 287
Glad was the Abbess, you may guess,
And thanked the Scottish Prioress;
And tedious were to tell, I ween,
The courteous speech that passed between.
O'erjoyed the nuns their palfreys leave;
But when fair Clara did intend,
Like them, from horse-back to descend,
Fitz-Eustace said, “I grieve,
Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart,
Such gentle company to part-
Think not discourtesy,
But lords’ commands must be obeyed;
And Marmion and the Douglas said,
That you must wend with me.
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad,
Which to the Scottish Earl he showed,
Commanding, that, beneath his care,
Without delay, you shall repair,
To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.”—
º


288 IMARMION. GAN to W.
XXX.
The startled Abbess loud exclaimed;
But she, at whom the blow was aimed,
Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,
She deemed she heard her death-doom read.
“ Cheer thee, my child " the Abbess said,
“They dare not tear thee from my hand,
To ride alone with armed band.”—
“Nay, holy mother, nay,”
Fitz-Eustace said, “ the lovely Clare
Will be in Lady Angus' care,
In Scotland while we stay;
And, when we move, an easy ride
Will bring us to the English side,
Female attendance to provide
Befitting Gloster's heir;
Northinks, nor dreams, my noble lord,
By slightest look, or act, or word,
To harass Lady Clare.
Her faithful guardian he will be,
Nor sue for slightest courtesy

8-


cANTO We THE COURT. 289
That e'en to stranger falls,
Till he shall place her, safe and free,
Within her kinsman's halls.”—
He spoke, and blushed with earnest grace;
His faith was painted on his face,
And Clare's worst fear relieved.
The Lady Abbess loud exclaimed
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed,
Entreated, threatened, grieved; -
To martyr, saint, and prophet prayed,
Against Lord Marmion inveighed,
And called the Prioress to aid,
To curse with candle, bell, and book,
Her head the grave Cistertian shook:
“The Douglas, and the King,” she said,
“In their commands will be obeyed;
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall
The maiden in Tantallon hall.”—
º,
|
f


200 MARMION. CANTO we
XXXI.
The Abbess, seeing strife was vain,
Assumed her wonted state again,_
For much of state she had,
Composed her veil, and raised her head,
And—“Bid,” in solemn voice she said,
“Thy master, bold and bad,
The records of his house turn o'er,
And, when he shall there written see,
That one of his own ancestry
Drove the Monks forth of Coventry,
Bid him his fate explore! . . . .
Prancing in pride of earthly trust,
His charger hurled him to the dust,.
And, by a base plebeian thrust,
* He died his band before. , -
God judge 'twixt Marmion and me;
He is a chief of high degree,
And I a poor recluse;
Yet oft, in holy writ, we see


CANTo W. THE COURT. 291
Even such weak minister as me
May the oppressor bruise:
For thus, inspired, did Judith slay
The mighty in his sin,
And Jael thus, and Deborah,”—
Here hasty Blount broke in :
“Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band;
St Anton’ fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day, with bonnet in thy hand,
To hear the Lady preach
By this good light! if thus we stay,
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,
Will sharper sermon teach.
Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse;
The Dame must patience take perforce.”—
XXXII.
“Submit we then to force,” said Clare;
“But let this barbarous lord despair
His purposed aim to win;
º
-
º
º
tº
º
º
º *
ſº
º
tº
º
º
|
º
!
º
º


292 MARMION. GAnto Y,
Let him take living, land, and life;
But to be Marmion’s wedded wife
In me were deadly sin:
And if it be the king's decree,
That I must find no sanctuary,
Where even a homicide might come,
And safely rest his head,
Though at its open portals stood,
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood,
The kinsmen of the dead;
Yet one asylum is my own,
Against the dreaded hour;
A low, a silent, and a lone,
Where kings have little power.
One victim is before me there.—
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer
Remember your unhappy Clare ſ”—
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows
Kind blessings many a one;
Weeping and wailing loud arose


UAN to w. THE COURT. 293
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes
Of every simple nun.
k His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.
Then took the squire her rein,
And gently led away her steed,
And, by each courteous word and deed,
To cheer her strove in vain.
XXXIII.
But scant three miles the band had rode,
When o'er a height they passed,
And, sudden, close before them showed
His towers, Tantallon vast;
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far,
And held impregnable in war.
On a projecting rock they rose,
And round three sides the ocean flows;
The fourth did battled walls inclose,
And double mound and fosse. --
º


294 MARMION. CANTO
By narrow draw-bridge, outworks strong,
Through studded gates, an entrance long,
To the main court they cross.
It was a wide and stately square:
Around were lodgings, fit and fair,
And towers of various form,
Which on the court projected far,
And broke its lines quadrangular.
Here was square keep, there turret high,
Or pinnacle that sought the sky, w
Whence oft the Warder could descry
The gathering ocean-storm.
XXXIV.
Here did they rest.—The princely care
Of Douglas, why should I declare,
Or say they met reception fair :
Or why the tidings say,
Which, varying, to Tantallon came,
By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame,
With every varying day


cAN to V, THE COURT, $295
And , first, they heard King James had won
Etall, and Wark, and Ford; and then,
That Norham castle strong was ta'en.
At that sore marvelled Marmion;–
And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand
Would soon subdue Northumberland :
But whispered news there came,
That, while his host inactive lay,
And melted by degrees away,
King James was dallying off the day
With Heron's wily dame-
Such acts to chronicles I yield;
Go seek them there, and see:
Mine is a tale of Flodden Field,
And not a history.- -
At length they heard the Scottish host
on that high ridge had made their post,
Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain;
And that brave Surrey many a band
Had gathered in the Southern land,


• -- ：）
|-|-
！
|-
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MARMION.
|-
*… - - - -
3utrobuſtion to Canta àirth.





ſ 299 ).
'i'0
RICHARD HEBER, Esq.
~ Mertoun-House, Christmas.
HEAP on more wood !—the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deemed the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer:
Even heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain;
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;
Then in his low and pine-built hall,
Where shields and axes decked the wall,
1.
º * -
-
-
º
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º
-
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º |
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*


360 INTRODUCTION
They gorged upon the half-dressed steer;
Caroused in seas of sable beer;
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown
The half-gnawed rib, and marrow-bone;
Or listened all, in grim delight,
While scalds yelled out the joys of fight.
Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie,
While wildly loose their red locks fly,
And dancing round the blazing pile,
They make such barbarous mirth the while,
As best might to the mind recal
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall.
And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had rolled,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night:
On Christmas eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas eve the mass was sung;


To cANTo sixth. 301
That only night, in all the year,
saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the misletoe.
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony doffed his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner chuse;
The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of “post and pair.”
All hailed, with uncontrolled delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
-*
*
*
|


302 INTRODUCTION
The huge hall-table's oaken face,
Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell,
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
The wasel round in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by
Plumb-porridge stood, and Christmas pye;
Nor failed old Scotland to produce,
At such high-tide, her savoury goose.
Then came the merry masquers in,
And carols roared with blithesome din;


TO CANTO Sl).TH, 5;}}
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But, O! what masquers richly dight
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale;
"Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man's heart through half the year.
Still linger in our northern clime
Some remnants of the good old time;
And still, within our vallies here,
We hold the kindred title dear,
Even when perchance its far-fetched claim
To Southron ear sounds empty name;
:
--
t
:


304 INTRODUCTION
For course of blood, our proverbs deem,
Is warmer than the mountain-stream.*
And thus, my chiuma. still I hold
Where my great-grandsire came of old;
With amber beard, and flaxen hair,
And reverend apostolic air—
The feast and holy-tide to share,
And mix sobriety with wine,
And honest mirth with thoughts divine :
Small thought was his, in after time
E'er to be hitched into a rhyme.
The simple sire could only boast,
That he was loyal to his cost;
The banished race of kings revered,
And lost his land,-but kept his beard.
In these dear halls, where welcome kind,
Is with fair liberty combined;
* “Blood is warmer than water,”—a proverb meant
to windicate our family predilections.

4.


To cANTo sixth. 305
i
Where cordial friendship gives the hand,
And flies constraint the magic wand
Of the fair dame that rules the land.
Little we heed the tempest drear,
While music, mirth, and social cheer,
Speed on their wings the passing year.
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now,
When not a leaf is on the bough.
Tweed loves them well, and turns again,
As loath to leave the sweet domain;
And holds his mirror to her face,
And clips her with a close embrace :-
Gladly as he, we seek the dome,
And as reluctant turn us home.
How just, that, at this time of glee,
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee!
For many a merry hour we’ve known,
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone.
Cease, then, my friend a moment cease,
And leave these classic tomes in peace
U f


306 INTRODUCTION
Of Roman and of Grecian lore, -
Sure mortal brain can hold no more.
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say,
Were “pretty fellows in their day,”*
But time and tide o'er all prevail—
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale—
Of wonder and of war—“ Profane !
What! leave the lofty Latian strain,
Her stately prose, her verse's charms,
To hear the clash of rusty arms;
In Fairy Land or Limbo lost,
To jostle conjuror and ghost,
Goblin and witch!”—Nay, Heber dear,
Before you touch my charter, hear.
Though Leyden aids, alas! no more,
My cause with many-languaged lore,
This may I say:-in realms of death
Ulysses meets Alcides’ wraith;
* “Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir—a very pretty fellow in
his day.”—Old Bachelor.


TO CANTO SIXTH. 307
AEneas, upon Thracia's shore,
The ghost of murdered Polydore;
For omens, we in Livy cross,
At every turn, locutus Bos.
As grave and duly speaks that ox,
As if he told the price of stocks;
Or held, in Rome republican,
The place of Common-councilman.
All nations have their omens drear,
Their legends wild of woe and fear.
To Cambria look—the peasant see,
Bethink him of Glendowerdy,
And shun “the spirit's blasted tree.”
The Highlander, whose red claymore
The bule turned on Maida's shore,
Will, on a Friday morn, look pale,
If asked to tell a fairy tale :
He fears the vengeful Elfin King,
who leaves that day his grassy ring;


308 INTRODUCTION
Invisible to human ken,
He walks among the sons of men.
Didst e'er, dear Heber, pass along
Beneath the towers of Franchémont,
Which, like an eagle's nest in air,
Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair —
Deep in their vaults, the peasants say,
A mighty treasure buried lay,
Amassed through rapine and through wrong,
By the last lord of Franchémont.
The iron chest is bolted hard,
A Huntsman sits, its constant guard;
Around his neck his horn is hung,
His hanger in his belt is slung;
Before his feet his bloodhounds lie :
An 'twere not for his gloomy eye,
Whose withering glance no heart can brook,
As true a huntsman doth he look,
As bugle e'er in brake did sound,
Or ever hollowed to a hound.


TO CANTO SIXTH. 309
To chase the fiend, and win the prize,
In that same dungeon ever tries
An aged Necromantic Priest;
It is an hundred years at least,
Since 'twixt them first the strife begun,
And neither yet has lost or won.
And oft the Conjuror's words will make
The stubborn Demon groan and quake;
And oft the bands of iron break,
Or bursts one lock, that still amain,
Fast as 'tis opened, shuts again.
That magic strife within the tomb
May last until the day of doom,
Unless the Adept shall learn to tell
The very word that clenched the spell,
When Franch’mont locked the treasure cell.
An hundred years are past and gone,
And scarce three letters has he won.
Such general superstition may
Excuse for old Pitscottie say ;
sº
s


310 INTRODUCTION
Whose gossip history has given -
My song the messenger from heaven,
That warned, in Lithgow, Scotland's King,
Nor less the infernal summoning.
May pass the Monk of Durham's tale,
Whose Demon fought in Gothic mail;
May pardon plead for Fordun grave,
Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave.
But why such instances to you,
Who, in an instant, can review
Your treasured hoards of various lore,
And furnish twenty thousand more;
Hoards, not like their's whose volumes rest
Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest;
While gripple owners still refuse
To others what they cannot use;
Give them the priest's whole century,
They shall not spell you letters three;
Their pleasure in the books the same
The magpie takes in pilfered gem.


TO CANTO SIXTH.
3 1
Thy volumes, open as thy heart,
Delight, amusement, science, art,
To every ear and eye impart;
Yet who, of all who thus employ them,
Can, like the owner's self, enjoy them —
But, hark | I hear the distant drum:
The day of Flodden field is come.—
Adieu, dear Heber' life and health,
And store of literary wealth.
*





MARMION.
CANTO SIXTH.
QChe Battle.
!


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ſ 315 J
MARMION.
CAN TO SIXTH.
Çüe |5attie,
I.
While great events were on the gale,
And each hour brought a varying tale,
And the demeanour, changed and cold,
Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold,
And, like the impatient steed of war,
He snuffed the battle from afar;
And hopes were none, that back again
Herald should come from Terouenne,
º
:


316 MARMION. 6ANTo Wr,
Where England's King in leaguer lay,
Before decisive battle-day;
While these things were the mournful Clare
Did in the Dame's devotions share:
For the good Countess ceaseless prayed,
To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid,
And, with short interval, did pass
From prayer to book, from book to mass,
And all in high Baronial pride,-
A life both dull and dignified;—
Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressed
Upon her intervals of rest,
Dejected Clara well could bear
The formal state, the lengthened prayer,
Though dearest to her wounded heart
The hours that she might spend apart.
II.
I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep
Hung o'er the margin of the deep.


cANTO v 1. ' THE BATTLE, 317
Many a rude tower and rampart there
Repelled the insult of the air,
Which, when the tempest vexed, the sky,
Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by.
Above the rest, a turret square
Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear,
Of sculpture rude, a stony shield;
The Bloody Heart was in the field,
And in the chief three mullets stood,
The cognizance of Douglas blood.
The turret held a narrow stair,
Which, mounted, gave you access where
A parapet's embattled row
Did seaward round the castle go;
Sometimes in dizzy steps descending,
Sometimes in narrow circuit bending,
Sometimes in platform broad extending,
Its varying circle did combine
Bulwark, and bartisan, and line,
And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign;


3.18 MARMION, CAN to WI,
Above the booming ocean leant
The far-projecting battlement;
The billows burst, in ceaseless flow,
Upon the precipice below.
Where'er Tantallon faced the land,
Gate-works, and walls, were strongly manned;
No need upon the sea-girt side;
The steepy rock, and frantic tide,
Approach of human step denied ;
And thus these lines, and ramparts rude,
Were left in deepest solitude.
III.
And, for they were so lonely, Clare
Would to these battlements repair,
And muse upon her sorrows there,
And list the sea-bird's cry;
Or slow, like noon-tide ghost, would glide
Along the dark-gray bulwarks' side,
And ever on the heaving tide
Look down with weary eye.


CAN TO WI. THE BATTLE. 319
Oft did the cliff, and swelling main,
Recal the thoughts of Whitby's fane,—
A home she ne'er might see again;
For she had laid adown,
So Douglas bade, the hood and veil,
And frontlet of the cloister pale,
And Benedictine gown:
It were unseemly sight, he said,
A novice out of convent shade.—
Now her bright locks, with sunny glow,
Again adorned her brow of snow;
Her mantle rich, whose borders, round,
A deep and fretted broidery bound,
In golden foldings sought the ground;
Of holy ornament, alone
Remained a cross with ruby stone;
And often did she look
On that which in her hand she bore,
With velvet bound, and broidered o'er,
Her breviary book.
-


320 MARMION. c.Anto wi.
t
;
In such a place, so lone, so grim,
At dawning pale, or twilight dim,
It fearful would have been,
To meet a form so richly dressed,
With book in hand, and cross on breast,
And such a woeful mien.
Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow,
To practise on the gull and crow,
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow,
And did by Mary swear,
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been,
Or, in romance, some spell-bound queen;
For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen
A form so witching fair.
IV.
Once walking thus, at evening tide,
It chanced a gliding sail she spied,
And, sighing, thought—“The Abbess there,
Perchance, does to her home repair;
11


CANTo VI. THE BATTLE. 321
Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free,
Walks hand in hand with Charity;
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow,
That the enraptured sisters see
High vision, and deep mystery;
The very form of Hilda fair,”
Hovering upon the sunny air,
And smiling on her votaries' prayer.
O! wherefore, to my duller eye,
Did still the Saint her form deny
Was it, that, seared by sinful scorn,
My heart could neither melt nor burn ?
Or lie my warm affections low,
With him, that taught them first to glow —
Yet, gentle Abbess, well l knew,
To pay thy kindness grateful due,
And well could brook the mild command,
That ruled thy simple maiden band.—
* See Note.
X.
|
:


322 MARMION, cANTo vi.
How different now ! condemned to bide
My doom from this dark tyrant's pride—
But Marmion has to learn, ere long,
That constant mind, and hate of wrong,
Descended to a feeble girl,
From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl:
Of such a stem, a sapling weak,
He ne'er shall bend, although he break.
V.
“But see —what makes this armour here?”
For in her path there lay
Targe, corslet, helm;—she viewed them near.—
“The breast-plate pierced!—Aye, much I fear,
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear,
That hah made fatal entrance here,
As these dark blood-gouts say—
Thus Wilton —Oh! not corslet's ward,
Not truth, as diamond pure and hard,
Could be thy manly bosom's guard,
On yon disastrous day!”—
3


€ANTo VI. THE BATTLE. 323
She raised her eyes in mournful mood,
WILT on himself before her stood
It might have seemed his passing ghost,
For every youthful grace was lost;
And joy unwonted, and surprise,
Gave their strange wildness to his eyes,
Expect not, noble dames and lords,
That I can tell such scene in words:
What skilful limner e'er would chuse
To paint the rainbow’s varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were given
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven f
Far less can my weak line declare
Each changing passion's shade;
Brightening to rapture from despair,
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there,
And joy, with her angelic air,
And hope, that paints the future fair,
Their varying hues displayed :
Each o'er its rival's ground extending,
Alternate conquering, shifting, blending,
ſ


324 MARMION. CANTo yr.
Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield,
And mighty Love retains the field.
Shortly I tell what then he said,
By many a tender word delayed,
And modest blush, and bursting sigh,
And question kind, and fond reply.
- WI.
HDe Öilton'g ibiºtotp,
“Forget we that disastrous day,
When senseless in the lists I lay.
Thence dragged, but how I cannot know,
For sense and recollection fled,
I found me on a pallet low,
Within my ancient beadsman's shed.
Austin,_remember'st thou, my Clare,
How thou didst blush, when the old man,
When first our infant love began, w"
Said we would make a matchless pair –
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled
From the degraded traitor's bed,


CAN TO WI. THE BATTLE.
325
- He only held my burning head,
And tended me for many a day,
While wounds and fever held their sway.
But far more needful was his care,
When sense returned to wake despair;
For I did tear the closing wound,
And dash me frantic on the ground,
If e'er I heard the name of Clare.
At length , to calmer reason brought,
Much by his kind attendance wrought,
With him I left my native strand,
And, in a palmer's weeds arrayed,
My hated name and form to shade,
I journeyed many a land;
No more a lord of rank and birth,
But mingled with the dregs of earth.
Oft Austin for my reason feared,
When I would sit, and deeply brood
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood,
Or wild mad schemes upreared.
º
;


326 MARMION. - CANTO WI*
My friend at length fell sick, and said,
God would remove him soon; r
And while upon his dying bed,
He begged of me a boon—
If ere my deadliest enemy
Beneath my brand should conquered lie,
Even then my mercy should awake,
And spare his life for Austin's sake.
VII.
“Still restless as a second Cain,
To Scotland next my route was ta'en.
Full well the paths I knew;
Fame of my fate made various sound,
That death in pilgrimage I found,
That I had perished of my wound,+
None cared which tale was true:
And living eye could never guess
De Wilton in his palmer's dress;
For now that sable slough is shed,
And trimmed my shaggy beard and head,


CANTo VI, THE BATTLE.
327
I scarcely know me in the glass.
A chance most wond’rous did provide,
That I should be that Baron's guide—
I will not name his name !—
Vengeance to God alone belongs;
But, when I think on all my wrongs,
My blood is liquid flame!
And ne'er the time shall I forget,
When, in a Scottish hostel set,
Dark looks we did exchange:
What were his thoughts I cannot tell;
But in my bosom mustered Hell
Its plans of dark revenge.
VIII.
A word of vulgar augury,
That broke from me, I scarce knew why,
Brought on a village tale;
Which wrought upon his moody sprite,
And sent him armed forth by night.
I borrowed steed and mail,
g-


328 MARMION. CANTo wi.
And weapons, from his sleeping band;
And, passing from a poten door,
We met, and 'countered, hand to hand,-
He fell on Gifford-moor. -
Tor the death-stroke my brand I drew,
(O then my helmed head he knew,
The palmer's cowl was gone,)
Then had three inches of my blade
The heavy debt of vengeance paid,
My hand the thought of Austin staid ;
I left him there alone.—
O good old man even from the grave,
Thy spirit could thy master save :
If I had slain my foeman, ne'er
Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear,
Given to my hand this packet dear,
Of power to clear my injured fame,
And vindicate De Wilton's name.—
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell
Of the strange pageantry of Hell,


EAN TO WI, THE BATTLE.
329
That broke our secret speech—
It rose from the infernal shade,
Or featly was some juggle played,
A tale of peace to teach.
Appeal to Heaven I judged was best,
When my name came among the rest.
*
IX.
“Now here, within Tantallon Hold,
To Douglas late my tale I told,
To whom my house was known of old.
Won by my proofs, his faulchion bright
This eve anew shall dub me knight.
These were the arms that once did turn
The tide of fight on Otterburne,
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield,
When the Dead Douglas won the field.
These Angus gave—his armourer's care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,


630 MARMION, - CANTo Wi.
:
But ancient armour on the walls,
And aged chargers in the stalls,
And women, priests, and gray-haired men;
The rest were all in Twisell glen.*
And now I watch my armour here,
By law of arms, till midnight's near ;
Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light.
X.
“There soon again we meet, my Clare :
This Baron means to guide thee there :
Douglas reveres his king's command,
Else would he take thee from his band.
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too,
Will give De Wilton justice due.
Now meeter far for martial broil,
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,
Once more”—“O, Wilton must we then
Risk new-found happiness again,
* Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden.


GAnto WI. - THE BATTLE, , - 331 º
Trust fate of arms once more ?
And is there not a humble glen,
Where we, content and poor,
Might build a cottage in the shade,
A shepherd thou, and I to aid
Thy task on dale and moor —
That reddening brow !—too well I know, -
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow,
While falsehood stains thy name:
Go then to fight! Clare bids thee go!
Clare can a warrior's feelings know,
And weep a warrior's shame;
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel,
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel,
And belt thee with thy brand of steel,
And send thee forth to fame !”—
XI.
That night, upon the rocks and bay,
The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay,


332 MARMION. - C.A.N.To wi.
And poured its silver light, and pure,
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure,
Upon Tantallon tower and hall;
But chief where arched windows wide
Illuminate the chapel’s pride,
The sober glances fall.
Much was there need; though, seamed with scars,
Two veterans of the Douglas' wars,
Though two gray priests were there,
And each a blazing torch held high,
You could not by their blaze descry
The chapel's carving fair.
Amid that dim and smoky light,
Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright,
A Bishop by the altar stood,
A noble lord of Douglas blood,
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white;
Yet shewed his meek and thoughtful eye
But little pride of prelacy:
More pleased that, in a barbarous age,
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page,


CANTo Wiſe THE BATTLE, - 333
|
:-
--
Than that beneath his rule he held
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld.
Beside him ancient Angus stood,
Doffed his furred gown, and sable hood :
O'er his huge form, and visage pale,
He wore a cap and shirt of mail;
And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand
Upon the huge and sweeping brand,
Which wont, of yore, in battle-fray,
His foeman's limbs to shred away,
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray.
He seemed as, from the tombs around
Rising at judgment-day,
Some giant Douglas may be found
In all his old array;
So pale his face, so huge his limb,
So old his arms, his look so grim.
XII. . .
Then at the altar Wilton kneels,
And Clare the spurs bound on his heels;


334 MARMION. ' c.A.N.To wr,
And think what next he must have felt,
At buckling of the faulchion belt
And judge how Clara changed her hue,
While fastening to her lover's side
A friend, which, though in danger tried,
He once had found untrue !
Then Douglas struck him with his blade:
“Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid,
I dub thee knight.
Arise Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir
For king, for church, for lady fair,
See that thou fight.”—
And Bishop Gawain, as he rose,
Said, “Wilton grieve not for thy woes,
Disgrace, and trouble, -
For He, who honour best bestows,
May give thee double.”—
De Wilton sobbed, for sob he must—
* Where’er I meet a Douglas, trust w
That Douglas is my brother "-


CAN to VI. THE BATTLE. 335
“ Nay, nay,” old Angus said, “not so;
To Surrey's camp thou now must go,
Thy wrongs no longer smother.
I have two sons in yonder field;
And, if thou meet'st them under shield,
Upon them bravely—do thy worst;
And foul fall him that blenches first l”—
XIII.
Not far advanced was morning day,
When Marmion did his troop array
To Surrey's camp to ride;
He had safe-conduct for his band, *
Beneath the royal seal and hand,
And Douglas gave a guide :
The ancient Earl, with stately grace,
Would Clara on her palfrey place,
And whispered, in an under tone,
“Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.”
The train from out the castle drew;
But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu:—


336 MARMION. GANTO WI.
* Though something I might plain,” he said,
“Of cold respect to stranger guest,
Sent hither by your king's behest,
While in Tantallon's towers I staid ;
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand.”—
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:—
“My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will, -
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation-stone—
The hand of Douglas is his own;
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”—
XIV.
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,
... 4


CANTo VI, THE BATTLE.
337
And—“This to me !” he said,
“An’twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head |
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer,
He, who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, .
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword,)
I tell thee, thou’rt defied
And if thou said'st, I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!”—
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:
Y


338 MARMION. CA NTo VI,
Fierce he broke forth:—“And dar'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go —
No, by Saint Bryde of Bothwell, no!—
Up drawbridge, grooms—what, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fill."—
Lord Marmion turned,—well was his need,
And dashed the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the arch-way sprung,
The ponderous grate behind him rung :
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.
XV.
The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Not lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim :
And when Lord Marmion reached his band,


t; Anto VI, THE BATTLE. 339
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
“Horse! horse !” the Douglas cried, “ and chase tº
But soon he reined his fury's pace:
“A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name.—
A letter forged Saint Jude to speed!
Did ever knight so foul a deed!
At first in heart it liked me ill,
When the King praised his clerkly skill.
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine,
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:
So swore I, and I swear it still,
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.—
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood |
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood,
I thought to slay him where he stood—
'Tis pity of him, too,” he cried ;
“Bold can he speak, and fairly ride:
I warrant him a warrior tried.”—


340 MARMION, CAN to Wi.
With this his mandate he recals,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.
XVI.
The day in Marmion’s journey wore;
Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er,
They crossed the heights of Stanrigg-moor.
His troop more closely there he scann'd,
And missed the Palmer from the band.—
“Palmer or not,” young Blount did say,
“He parted at the peep of day; -
Good sooth it was in strange array.”—
“In what array ?” said Marmion, quick.
“My lord, I ill can spell the trick;
But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
And from a loop-hole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep,
Wrapped in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;


GANTO WI. THE BATTLE.
341
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
A rusty shirt of mail I spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would befal.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed;
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt to his paces, cool and bold.
I heard the Sheriff Sholto Say,
The Earl did much the Master* pray
To use him on the battle-day;
But he preferred”—“Nay, Henry, cease !
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace.—
Eustace, thou bear'st a brain—I pray,
What did Blount see at break of day ?”—
*
XVII.
“In brief, my lord, we both descried
(For I then stood by Henry's side)
* His eldest son, the Master of Angus.


342 MARMION. C.A.N.To W1.
The Palmer mount, and outwards ride,
Upon the Earl's own favourite steed;
All sheathed he was in armour bright,
And much resembled that same knight,
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight.
Lord Angus wished him speed.”—
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke,
A sudden light on Marmion broke;—
“Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost"
He muttered; “’Twas nor fay nor ghost,
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould-
O dotage blind and gross |
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust,
My path no more to cross-
How stand we now —he told his tale
To Douglas; and with some avail;
‘Twas therefore gloomed his rugged brow.—
Will Surrey dare to entertain,
'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain :
Small risk of that I trow.—


CANTo V 1. THE BATTLE, 343
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun;
Must separate Constance from the Nun—
O what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive!—
A Palmer too!—no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye:
I might have known there was but one,
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion.”—
XVIII.
Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed
His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed,
Where Lennel's convent closed their march:
(There now is left but one frail arch,
Yet mourn thou not its cells;
Our time a fair exchange has made;
Hard by, in hospitable shade,
A reverend pilgrim dwells,
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood,
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.)


344 MARMION. CAN TO WI.
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 foé,
Who traversed on the plain below.


cANTo v1. THE BATTLE. 345
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 are 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 dow succession still,
And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch,
And pressing on, in ceaseless march,


346 MARMION. CAN to v I.
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


348 MARMION. CAN to v i.
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 standards 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.”—


cANTo Vie THE BATTLE, 349
XXII.
Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ;
Far less would listen to his prayer,
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And muttered, as the flood they view,
“The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw:
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,
So Clare shall bide with me.”
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep,
He ventured desperately;
And not a moment will he bide,
Till squire, or groom, before him ride;
Headmost of all he stems the tide,
And stems it gallantly.
Eustace held Clare upon her horse,
Old Hubert led her rein,


&: A NTO v Ie THE BATTLE. 3:) i
:
Their marshalled lines stretched east and west,
And fronted north and south,
And distant salutation past
From the loud cannon mouth;
Not in the close successive rattle,
That breathes the voice of modern battle,
But slow and far between.—
The hillock gained, Lord Marmion staid:
“Here, by this cross,” he gently said,
“You well may view the scene.
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare :
O! think of Marmion in thy prayer —
Thou wilt not *—well,—no less my care
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.—
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten picked archers of my train;
With England if the day go hard,
To Berwick speed amain.-
* But, if we conquer, cruel maid!
- My spoils shall at your feet be laid,
When here we meet again.”—
:|


352 MARMION. CAN TO WI,
He waited not for answer there,
And would not mark the maid's despair,
Nor heed the discontented look
From either squire; but spurred amain,
And, dashing through the battle-plain,
His way to Surrey took.
XXV. -
The good Lord Marmion, by my life!
s:
Welcome to danger's hour !—
Short greeting serves in time of strife:–
Thus have I ranged my power:
Myself will rule this central host,
Stout Stanley fronts their right,
My sons command the vaward post,
With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight;
Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,
Shall be in rear-ward of the fight,
And succour those that need it most.
Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,
Would gladly to the vanguard go;
-
10


GANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 353
Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstal there,
With thee their charge will blithely share;
There fight thine own retainers too,
Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”—
“Thanks, noble Surrey !” Marmion said,
Nor further greeting there he paid;
But, parting like a thunder-bolt,
First in the vanguard made a halt,
Where such a shout there rose
Of “ Marmion | Marmion" that the cry
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high,
Startled the Scottish foes.
XXVI.
Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still
With Lady Clare upon the hill;
On which, (for far the day was spent,)
The western sun-beams now were bent.
The cry they heard, its meaning knew,
Could plain their distant comrades view:
Z. "
-**
|
*
|
|
*r


354 MARMION. CAN TO Wr,
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,
“ Unworthy office here to stay !
No hope of gilded spurs to-day—
But, see look up—on Flodden bent,
The Scottish foe has fired his tent.”—
And sudden, as he spoke,
From the sharp ridges of the hill,
All downward to the banks of Till,
Was wreathed in sable smoke;
Volumed and vast, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,
As down the hill they broke;
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,
Announced their march; their tread alone,
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum, -
Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come—
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,
Until at weapon-point they close—
5


356 MARM ION. CANTO W i.
But nought distinct they see :
Wide raged the battle on the plain;
Spears shook, and faulchions flashed amain;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ;
Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again,
Wild and disorderly.
Amid the scene of tumult, high
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly:
And stainless Tunstall's banner white,
And Edmund Howard's lion bright,
Still bear them bravely in the fight;
Although against them come,
Of gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a stubborn Highlandman,
And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntley, and with Home.
XXVIII.
Far on the left, unseen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle;


GANTo wit. THE BATTLE. 357
Though there the western mountaineer
Rushed with bare bosom on the spear,
And flung the feeble targe aside,
And with both hands the broad-sword plied:
"Twas vain.—But Fortune, on the right,
With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight.
Then fell that spotless banner white,
The Howard's lion fell ;
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew
Around the battle yell.
The Border slogan rent the sky!
A Home! a Gordon was the cry;
Loud were the clanging blows;
Advanced,—forced back,--now low, now high,
The pennon sunk and rose;
As bends the bark's mast in the gale,
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail,
It wavered mid the foes.
No longer Blount the view could bear:—
“By heaven, and all its saints I swear,


358 MARMION. CANTo VI,
I will not see it lost
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare
May bid your beads, and patter prayer,
I gallop to the host.”
And to the fray he rode amain,
Followed by all the archer train.
The fiery youth, with desperate charge,
Made, for a space, an opening large,_
The rescued banner rose,
But darkly closed the war around,
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground,
It sunk among the foes.
Then Eustace mounted too;-yet staid,
As loth to leave the helpless maid,
When, fast as shaft can fly,
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,
Lord Marmion’s steed rushed by;
And Eustace, maddening at the sight,


G.A.N.To wife THE BATTLE. 359
A look and sign to Clara cast,
To mark he would return in haste, .
Then plunged into the fight.
XXIV.
Ask me not what the maiden feels,
Left in that dreadful hour alone:
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels;
- Perchance a courage, not her own,
Braces her mind to desperate tone.—
The scattered van of England wheels;–
She only said, as loud in air
The tumult roared, “Is Wilton there —
They fly, or, maddened by despair,
Fight but to die.—“Is Wilton there?”—
With that, straight up the hill there rode
Two horsemen drenched with gore,
And in their arms, a helpless load, -
A wounded knight they bore.
His hand still strained the broken brand;
His arms were smeared with blood, and sand :


ca. Nºto v Ie THE BATTLE. 361
Last of my race, on battle-plain
That shout shall ne'er be heard again!—
Yet my last thought is England's:-fly,
To Dacre bear my signet-ring;
Tell him his squadrons up to bring.—
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie:
Tunstall lies dead upon the field;
His life-blood stains the spotless shield :
Edmund is down;–my life is reſt;-
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,
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan,
And half he murmured,—“Is there none,


362 MARMION. c.Anto WI.
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 !"—
XXXI.
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,
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid
To the nigh streamlet ran :
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears;
The plaintive voice alone she hears,
Sees but the dying man.
She stooped her by the runnel's side,
But in abhorrence backward drew;
For, oozing from the mountain wide,


GAN to v I. THE BATTLE.
363
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 bason fell.
Above, some half-worn letters say,
“ Drink, mearp. pilgrim, brink, and prag.
3For, the, ſtint, gouſ, of, ºphil, Öreg,
d'âbo, built, thig, trogg, and, fuelſ.
She filled 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.
XXXII.
Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave,
And, as she stooped his brow to lave—


364 - MARMION. CANTo v1.
“Is it the hand of Clare,” he said,
“Or injured Constance, bathes my head "
Then, as remembrance rose,_
“Speak not to me of shrift or prayerſ
I must redress her woes.
Short space, few words, are mine to spare;
Forgive and listen, gentle Clare "—
“Alas!” she said, “ the while,
O think of your immortal weal!
In vain for Constance is your zeal;
She-died at Holy Isle.”—
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 !


CAN TO WI. THE BATTLE. 365
For wasting fire, and dying groan,
And pist. slain on the altar stone,
Might bribe him for delay.
It may not be l—this dizzy trance—
Curse on yon base marauder's lance, ,
And doubly cursed my failing brand 1
A sinful heart makes feeble hand.”—
Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk,
Supported by the trembling Monk.
XXXIII.
With fruitless labour, Clara bound,
And strove to slaunch, 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 in 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;


366 MARMION. CAN to VI,
* Avoid thee, Fiend —with cruel hand,
Shake not the dying sinner's sand l—
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 swelled the gale,
And—STANLEY was the cry;-
A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye :
With dying hand, above his head
He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted “Victory!—
“Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!”..
Were the last words of Marmion.
XXXIV.
By this, though deep the evening fell,
Still rose the battle's deadly swell,


CAN TO WIs THE BATTLE. 367
For still the Scots, around their king,
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring.
Where's now their victor vaward 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 "-


363 MARMION. canto v1.
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.
XXXV.
But as they left the dark'ning heath,
More desperate grew the strife of death.
The English shafts in vollies hailed,
In headlong charge their horse assailed;
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 plie the ghastly blow,
Unbroken was the ring;
The stubborn spear-men still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
4.


c.Anto VI, THE BATTLE. 369
Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard flight;-
Linked in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well ;
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shattered bands;
And from the charge they drew,
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands,
Sweep back to ocean blue.
Then did their loss his foemen 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,
2 A


370 MARMION. CANTo VI,
Disordered, 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 shivered was fair Scotland's spear,
And broken was her shield !
XXXVI.
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;
11


CAN to VI. THE BATTLE, 371
Nor to yon Border castle high
Look northward with upbraiding eye;
Nor cherish hope in vain,
That, journeying far on foreign strand,
The Royal Pilgrim to his land
May yet return again. º
He saw the wreck his rashness wrought;
Reckles of life, he desperate fought,
And fell on Flodden plain:
And well in death his trusty brand,
Firm clenched within his manly hand,
Beseemed the monarch slain.
But, O! how changed since yon blithe night!—
Gladly I turn me from the sight, -
Unto my tale again.
XXXVII. -
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,


CAN TO WI. THE BATTLE, 373
Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied,
And dragged him to its foot, and died,
Close by the noble Marmion’s side.
The spoilers stripped and gashed the slain,
And thus their corpses were mista'en;
And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb,
The lowly woodsman took the room.
XXXVIII.
Less easy task it were, to shew
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;


374 MARMLON, c.A. Nto W i.
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 trode,
Still led thee farther 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.”
XXXIX.
I do not rhyme to that dull elf,
Who cannot image to himself,


CAN TO WI. THE BATTLE. 375
That all through Flodden's dismal night,
Wilton was foremost in the fight;
That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain,
"Twas Wilton mounted him again;
‘Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hewed,
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, passed the joke :


376 MARMION. CAN TO WI,
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’—
HL'QInflop,
- 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 Statesman 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;
* Used generally for tale, or discourse,
-


********~*==== --！！！！ --~:=≡_-__-__
±（−−， .， …：… ！


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
Note I.
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.—P. 17.
The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of
abridgment 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 pf
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 sub-
lime. 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 republished, I confine myself to the tale
of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after
the Sangreall.
“Right so Sir Launcelot departed; and when he came to
the Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to
11


iv. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
a little gate. And as soon as he was within the church-yard,
hee 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 hee saw stand by him
thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever
hee had seene, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Laun-
celot; and when hee 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 drawen.
And when Sir Launcelot would have gone through them, they
scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way; and
therewith hee waxed all bold, and entred into the chapell, and
then hee saw no light but a dimme lampe burning, and then
was he 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 the earth had quaked a
little, whereof he was afeard, and then hee saw a faire sword
lye by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied
him out of the chappell. 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 faire damosell, and said, ‘Sir
Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. W
it? “I will not leave it,” said Sir Launcelot, “for no threats.”
* No;' said she, “and ye did leave that sword, Queene Guenever
should ye never see.’ ‘Then were I a foole and I would leave
this sword,” said Sir Launcelot. “Now, gentle knight,' said the
damosell, “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 ordeined 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 there lieth dead in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert the bas-
tard, 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 Queene Guenever; but sithen I may not rejoyce
thee 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 balm-
ed 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, “Je-
sus preserve me from your subtill craft' And therewith he
ſook his horse, and departed from her.”


vi NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
* ,
Note II.
A sinful man, and unconfessed,
He took the Sangreal's holy quest,
And, slumbering, saw the vision high,
He might not view with waking eye—P. 17.
One day, when Arthur was holding a high feast with his
Knights of the Round Table, the Sangreall, or vessel out of
which the last passover was eaten, a precious relick, 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 Sangreall. 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 Queene Guenever, or Ganore;
and in this holy quest he encountered only such disgraceful dis-
asters as that which follows:
“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 ston that was of mar-
ble; 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


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. vii
his shield, and hung it upon a tree, and then hee went unto
the chappell doore, and found it wasted and broken. And
within he found a faire alter, full richly arrayed with cloth of
silk, and there stood a faire candlestick, 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 hee 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 unlaced his helme, and ungird-
ed his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his shield be-
fore the crosse.
“And so hee fell on sleepe, and halfe waking and halfe
sleeping, hee saw come by him two palfryes, 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 sor-
row leave me, and when shall the holy vessel 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 allwales Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir
Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire tapers, come be-
fore 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 seene before that time
in king Petchour's house. And therewithall the sicke knight


viii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
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 there-
with 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? Soo when the holy vessell had been
there a great while, it went unto 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 after-
ward. 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. “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 was never con-
fessed.’ ‘By my faith,' said the knight, ‘whatsoever he be,
he is unhappie; for, as I deeme, hee is of the fellowship of the
Round Table the which is entred into the quest of the Sanc-
greall.’ “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


xiv. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
principal rooms of state for solemn occasions, and also the pri-
son of the fortress; from which last circumstance we derive
the modern and restricted use of the word dungeon. Ducange
(voce DuNJo) conjectures, plausibly, that the name is derived
from these keeps being usually built upon a hill, which in Cel-
tic is called DUN. Borlase supposes the word came from the
darkness of the apartments in these towers, which were thence
figuratively called Dungeons; thus deriving the ancient word
from the modern application of it.
Note VII.
Well was he armed from head to heel,
In mail, and plate, of Milan steel.—P. 28.
- The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their
skill in armoury, as appears from the following passage, in
which Froissart gives an account of the preparations made by
Henry, Earl of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and Thomas,
Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marischal, for their proposed combat
in the lists at Coventry : “These two lords made ample pro-
vision of all things necessary for the combat; and the Earl of
Derby sent off messengers to Lombardy, to have armour from
Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The duke complied with joy, and
gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who had brought the mes-
sage, the choice of all his armour for the Earl of Derby. When
he had selected what be wished for in plated and mail armour,
the lord of Milan, out of his abundant love for the Earl, or-
dered four of the best armourers in Milan to accompany the
*


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. XV
knight to England, that the Earl of Derby might be more com-
pletely armed.”—John Es’ Froissart, Vol. IV. p. 597.
. Note VIII.
The golden legend bore aright,
Who checks AT ME, To DEATH Is DIGHT.-P. 28.
The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the fol-
lowing story. Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford,
was, among other gentlemen of quality, attended during a visit
to London, in 1890, by Sir William Dalzell, who was, accord-
ing to my authority Bower, not only excelling in wisdom, but
also of a lively wit. Chancing to be at the court, he there
saw Sir Piers Courtenay, an English knight, famous for skill in
tilting, and for the beauty of his person, parading the palace,
arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an embroidered
falcon, with this rhyme,
I bear a falcon, fairest of flight,
Who so pinches at her, his death is dight*
In graith. Ł
The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a
dress exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a mag-
pie instead of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to
rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers:
* Prepared. + Armour.


xvi. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
I bear a pie picking at a piece,
Who so picks at her, I shall pick at his nese,”
In faith.
This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp
lances. In the course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that
it gave way at the touch of his antagonist's lance, and he thus
avoided the shock of the encounter. This happened twice:—
in the third encounter, the handsome Courtenay lost two of his
front teeth. As the Englishman complained bitterly of Dal-
zell's fraud in not fastening his helmet, the Scottishman agreed
to run six courses more, each champion staking in the hand of
the king two hundred pounds, to be forfeited, if, on entering
the lists, any unequal advantage should be detected. This
being agreed to, the wily Scot demanded, that Sir Piers, in ad-
dition to the loss of his teeth, should consent to the extinction
of one of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the fight of
Otterburn. As Courtenay demurred to this equalization of op-
tical powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit; which, after much
altercation, the king appointed to be paid to him, saying, he
surpassed the English both in wit and valour. This must ap-
pear to the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that
time. I suspect the Jockey Club would have given a different
decision from Henry IV.
* Nose.


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xvii
Note IX.
Largesse, largesse.—P. 33.
This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were
wont to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights.
Stewart of Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirizes
the narrowness of James V., and his courtiers, by the ironical
burden—
*
Lerges, lerges, lerges, hay,
Lerges of this new year day.
First lerges of the king, my chief,
Who came as quiet as a thief,
And in my hand slid—shillings twae?"
To put his largeness to the prief,”
For lerges of this new year day.
The heralds, like the minstrels, were a race allowed to have
great claims upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats
they kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text,
upon suitable occasions.
At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of impor-
tance, pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable character
rendered them the only persons that could, with perfect assu-
rance of safety, be sent on necessary embassies into Scotland.
This is alluded to in Stanza XXII. p. 12.
* Two. * Proof.


xxii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
for many years; but when she was a girl, it used to be sung at
merry-makings, “till the roof rung again.” To preserve this
curious, though rude rhyme, it is here inserted. The ludicrous
turn given to the slaughter, marks that wild and disorderly state
of society, in which a murder was not merely a casual circum-
stance, but, in some cases, an exceedingly goodjest. The struc-
ture of the ballad resembles the “Fray of Suport,” having the
same irregular stanza and wild chorus.
I.
Hoot awa’, lads, hoot awa’,
Ha’ ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thirwalls, and a',
Ha' set upon Albany”. Featherstonhaugh,
And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh :
There was Willimoteswick,
And Hardriding Dick,
And Hughie of Hawden, and Will of the Wa’.
I canno' tell a’, I canno’ tell a’,
And mony a mair that the de'il may knaw.
II.
The auld man went down, but Nicol, his son,
Ran away afore the fight was begun;
And he run, and he run,
And afore they were done,
There was many a Featherston gat sic a stun,
As never was seen since the world begun.
* See Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. I. p. 250.
* Pronounced Awbony.


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxiii
III.
I canna' tell a’, I canna' tell a’;
Some gat a skelp," and some gat a claw;
But they gard the Featherstons haud their jaw, *
Nicol, and Alick, and a'.
Some gat a hurt, and some gat name;
Some had harness, and some gat sta'en.”
IV.
Ane gat a twist o' the craig; *
Ane gat a bunch” o' the wane;”
Symy Haw gat lamed of a leg,
And syne ran wallowing 7 hame.
W.
Hoot, hoot, the auld man's slaim outright !
Lay him now wi' his face down:—he's a sorrowful sight,
Janet, thou donot,”
I’ll lay my best bonnet,
Thou gets a new gude-man afore it be night.
VI.
Hoo away, lads, hoo away,
Wi's a' be hangid if we stay.
* Skelp signifies slap, or rather is the same word which was ori-
ginally spelled schlap,
* Hold their jaw, a vulgar expression still in use.
* Got stolen, or were plundered; a very likely termination of
the fray.
* Neck. 5 Punch. 6 Belly. 7 Bellowing.
* Silly slut. The Border Bard calls her so, because she was
weeping for her slain husband; a loss which he seems to think
might be soon repaired, -


xxiv. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
Tak” up the dead man, and lay him ahint the bigging;
Here's the Bailey o' Haltwhistle,"
Wi’ his great bull's pizzle,
That sup’d up the broo’, and syne—in the piggin.”
In explanation of this ancient ditty, Mr Surtees has furnished
me with the following local memorandum : Willimoteswick,
now more commonly called Ridley Hall, is situated at the con-
fluence of the Allon and Tyne, and was the chief seat of the
ancient family of Ridley. Hardriding Dick is not an epithet
referring to horsemanship, but means Richard Ridley of Hard-
riding, the seat of another family of that name, which, in the
time of Charles I, was sold on account of expences incurred
by the loyalty of the proprietor, the immediate ancestor of Sir
Matthew Ridley. Will of the Wa’ seems to be William Rid-
ley of Walltown, so called from its situation on the great Ro-
man wall. Thirlwall Castle, whence the clan of Thirlwalls de-
rived their name, is situated on the small river of Tippell, near
the western boundary of Northumberland. It is near the wall,
and takes its name from the rampart having been thirled, i. e.
pierced, or breached, in its vicinity. Featherston Castle lies
south of the Tyne, towards Alston-moor. Albany Featherston-
haugh, the chief of that ancient family, made a figure in the
reign of Edward VI. A feud did certainly exist between the
* The Bailiff of Haltwhistle seems to have arrived when the fray
was over. This supporter of social order is treated with charac-
teristic irreverence by the moss-trooping poet.
*An iron pot with two ears.
1


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxW
Ridleys and Featherstones, productive of such consequences as
the ballad narrates. 24 Oct. 22do Henrici 8vi. Inquisitio capt.
apud Hautwhistle, sup. visum corpus Alexandri Featherston,
Gen. apud Grensilhaugh, felonice interfecti, 22 Oct. per Nico-
daum Ridley de Unthanke, Gen. Hugon Ridle, Nicolaum
Ridle, et alios ejusdem nominis. Nor were the Featherstones
without their revenge; for 36to Henrici 8vi, we have–Utla-
gatio Nicolai Fetherston, ac Thome Nyrson, &c. &c. pro homi-
cudio Will. Ridle de Morale.
Note XIII.
James backed the cause of that mock prince,
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. -
Then did I march with Surrey's power,
What time we razed old Ayton tower.—P. 40.
The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is
well known. In 1496, he was received honourably in Scot-
land; and James IV., after conferring upon him in marriage his
own relation, the Lady Catharine Gordon, made war on Eng-
land in behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of
England, Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of
considerable forces, but retreated after taking the inconsider-
able fortress of Ayton. Ford, in his Dramatic Chronicle of
Perkin Warbeck, makes the most of this inroad :


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxvii.
everything else that was portable. “This spoil was commit-
ted the 16th day of May, 1570, (and the said Sir Richard was
threescore and fourteen years of age, and grown blind,) in time
of peace; when nane of that country lippened (expected) such
a thing.”—“The Blind Baron's Comfort” consists in a string of
puns on the word Blythe, the name of the lands thus despoiled.
Like John Littlewit, he had “a conceit left him in his misery,
a miserable conceit.”
The last line of the text contains a phrase, by which the
Borderers jocularly intimated the burning a house. When the
Maxwells, in 1685, burned the castle of Lochwood, they said
they did so to give the Lady Johnstone “light to set her
hood:” Nor was the phrase inapplicable; for, in a letter, to
which I have mislaid the reference, the Earl of Northumber-
land writes to the king and council, that he dressed himself, at
midnight, at Warkworth, by the blaze of the neighbouring vil-
lages burned by the Scottish marauders:
Note XV.
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—P. 46.
“Sante Rosalia was of Palermo, and born of a very noble
family, and, when very young, ahhorred so much the vanities
of this world, and avoided the converse of mankind, resolving
to dedicate herself wholly to God Almighty, that she, by divine


xxviii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
inspiration, forsook her father's house, and never was more
heard of, till her body was found in that cleft of a rock, on
that almost inaccessible mountain, where now the chappel is
, built; and they affirm, she was carried up there by the hands
of angels; for that place was not formerly so accessible (as now
it is) in the days of the Saint; and even now it is a very bad,
and steepy, and break-neck way. In this frightful place, this
holy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on what she
found growing on that barren mountain, and creeping into a
narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping
wet, and was her place of retirement, as well as prayer; having
worn out even the rock with her knees, in a certain place,
which is now open'd on purpose to show it to those who came
here. This chappel is very richly adorn'd; and on the spot
where the Saint's dead body was discover'd, which is just be-
neath the hole in the rock, which is open'd on purpose, as I
said, there is a very fine statue of marble, representing her in a
lying posture, railed in all about with fine iron and brass work;
and the altai, on which they say mass, is built just over it.”
Voyage to Sicily and Malta, by Mr John Dryden, (son to the
poet) p. 107.
Note XVI.
Himself still sleeps before his beads
Have marked ten aves, and two creeds.-P. 49.
Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and
breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. “But Gargan-


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxix.
tua could not sleep by any means, on which side soever he
turned himself. Whereupon the monk said to him, I never
sleep soundly but when I am at sermon, or prayers: Let us
therefore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try
whether you shall not quickly fall asleep. The conceit pleased
Gargantua very well; and, beginning the first of these psalms,
as soon as they came to Beati quorum, they fell asleep, both
the one and the other.”
Note XVII.
The summoned Palmer came in place;
In his black mantle was he clad,
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red,
On his broad shoulders wrought.—P.49.
A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his
sole business to visit different holy shrines; travelling incessant-
ly, and subsisting by charity: whereas the Pilgrim retired to
his usual home and occupations, when he had paid his devo-
tions at the particular spot, which was the object of his pilgri-
mage. The Palmers seem to have been the Quastionarii of
the ancient Scottish canons 1242 and 1296: There is, in the
Bannatyne MS., a burlesque account of two such persons, en-
titled, “Simmy and his Brother.” Their accoutrements are
thus ludicrously described, (I discard the ancient spelling.)
Syne shaped them up to loup on leas,
Twe tabards of the tarian ; º


xxx NOTES TO CANTO FIRST.
They counted nought what their clouts were
When sew'd them on, in certain.
Syne clampit up St Peter's keys,
Made of an old red gartane;
St James's shells, on t'other side, shews
As pretty as a partane
Toe,
On Symmye and his brother.
Note XVIII.
To fair St Andrew's bound,
Within the ocean-cave to pray,
Where good St Rule his holy lay,
From midnight to the dawn of day,
Sung to the billows' sound—P. 52.
St Regulus, (Scotticé, St Rule) a monk of Patrae, in Achaia,
warned by a vision, is said, A. D. 870, to have sailed westward,
until he landed at St Andrew's, in Scotland, where he founded
a chapel and tower. The latter is still standing; and, though
we may doubt the precise date of its foundation, is certainly
one of the most ancient edifices in Scotland. A cave, nearly
fronting the ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St Andrew's,
bears the name of this religious person. It is difficult of ac-
cess; and the rock in which it is hewed is washed by the Ger-
man ocean. It is nearly round, about ten feet in diameter, and
the same in height. On one side is a sort of stone altar; on
the other an aperture into an inner den, where the miserable
ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, probably slept. At full
tide, egress and regress is hardly practicable. As Regulus first


NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxxi
colonized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and converted the
inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to complain, that
the ancient name of Killrule (Cella Reguli) should have been
superseded, even in favour of the tutelar saint of Scotland.
The reason of the change was, that St Rule is said to have .
brought to Scotland the reliques of St Andrew.
Note XIX.
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore.—P. 52.
St Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Although
Popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the common
people still retain some of the superstitions connected with it.
There are, in Perthshire, several wells and springs dedicated to
St Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, even
among the Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of
madness; and, in cases of very late occurrence, lunatics have
been left all night bound to the holy stone, in confidence that
the saint would cure and unloose them before morning,


---
*


NOTES TO CANTO SECOND.
Note I.
The scenes are desart now, and bare,
Where flourished once a forest fair—P. 59.
Ettricke Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep-walks,
was anciently reserved for the pleasure of the royal chace.
Since it was disparked, the wood has been, by degrees, almost
totally destroyed, although, wherever protected from the sheep,
copses soon arise without any planting. When the king hunted
there, he often summoned the array of the country to meet and
assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James V.“ made proclama-
tion to all lords, barons, gentlemen, landward-men, and free-
holders, that they should compear at Edinburgh, with a month's
victuals, to pass with the king where he pleased, to danton the
thieves of Teviotdale, Anandale, Liddisdale, and other parts of
that country; and also warned all gentlemen that had good
dogs, to bring them, that he might hunt in the said country, as
he pleased: The whilk the Earl of Argyle, the Earl of Hunt-
ley, the Earl of Athole, and so all the rest of the gentlemen of
b


xxxiv. NOTES TO CANTO SECOND,
the Highland, did, and brought their hounds with them in like
manner, to hunt with the king, as he pleased.
“The second day of June, the king past out of Edinburgh
to the hunting, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of Scot-
land with him, to the number of twelve thousand men; and
then past to Meggitland, and hounded and hawked all the
country and bounds: that is to say, Crammat, Pappertlaw, St
Marylaws, Carlavirick, Chapel, Ewindoores, and Longhope.
I heard say, he slew, in these bounds, eighteen score of harts.”
These huntings had, of course, a military character, and at-
tendance upon them was a part of the duty of a vassal. The
act for abolishing ward, or military tenures, in Scotland, enu-
merates the services of hunting, hosting, watching, and warding,
as those which were in future to be illegal.
Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in
which these huntings were conducted in the Highlands of Scot-
land, in the seventeenth century, having been present at Brae-
mar upon such an occasion:
- “There did I find the truly noble and right honourable lords,
John Erskine, Earl of Marr; James Stuart, Earl of Murray;
George Gordom, Earl of Engye, son and heir to the Marquis of
Huntley; James Erskine, Earl of Buchan; and John, Lord
Erskine, son and heir to the Earl of Marr, and their Countesses,
with my much honoured, and my last assured and approved
friend, Sir William Murray, knight of Abercarney, and hun-
* Pitscottie's History of Scotland, folio edition, p. 143.
3


NOTES TO CANTO SEGOND. xxxv.
dred of others, knights, esquires, and their followers; all and
every man, in general, in one habit, as if Lycurgus had been
there, and made laws of equality: for once in the year, which
is the whole month of August, and sometimes part of September,
many of the nobility and gentry of the kingdom (for their plea-
sure) do come into these highland countries to hunt; where
they do conform themselves to the habit of the highland-men,
who, for the most part, speak nothing but Irish; and, in for-
mer time, were those people which were called the Red-shanks.
Their habit is—shoes, with but one sole a-piece; stockings,
(which they call short hose) made of a warm stuff of diverse
colours, which they call tartan; as for breeches, many of them,
nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a jerkin of the same
stuff that their hose is of; their garters being bands or wreathes
of hay, or straw; with a plaid about their shoulders; which is
a mantle of diverse colours, much finer and lighter stuff than
their hose; with blue flat caps on their heads; a handkerchief,
knit with two knots, about their necks: and thus are they at-
tired. Now their weapons are—long bowes and forked arrows,
swords and targets, harquebusses, muskets, durks, and Locha-
ber axes. With these arms I found many of them armed for
the hunting. As for their attire, any man, of what degree so-
ever, that comes amongst them, must not disdain to wear it;
for if they do, then they will disdain to hunt, or willingly to
bring in their dogs; but if men be kind unto them, and be in
their habit, then are they conquered with kindness, and the sport
will be plentiful. This was the reason that I found so many


xxxviii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND.
Note II.
Yarrow,
Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow.—P. 63.
The tale of the Outlaw Murray, who held out Newark Cas-
tle and Ettricke Forest against the king, may be found in the
“ Border Minstrelsy,” Vol. I. In the Macfarlane MS., among
other causes of James the Fifth's charter to the burgh, is men-
tioned, that the citizens assisted him to suppress this dangerous
outlaw.
Note III.
Lone Saint Mary's silver lake.—P. 67.
This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which
the Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with a smaller
lake, called the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by moun-
tains. In the winter, it is still frequented by flights of wild
swans; hence my friend Mr Wordsworth's lines:
The swans on sweet st Mary's lake
Float double, swan and shadow.
Near the lower extremity of the lake, are the ruins of Dry-
hope Tower, the birth-place of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip
Scott of Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the
Flower of Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Har-
den, no less renowned for his depredations, than his bride for
her beauty. Her romantic appellation was, in latter days,


NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xli
ract. It has the appearance of a battery designed to command
the pass.
Note VII.
Where from high Whitby's cloistered pile,
Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle.—P. 78.
The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland,
on the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in conse-
quence of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It con-
tained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine order; but,
contrary to what was usual in such establishments, the abbess
was superior to the abbot. The monastery was afterwards.
ruined by the Danes, and rebuilded by William Percy, in the
reign of the Conqueror. There were no nuns there in Henry
the Eighth's time, nor long before it. The ruins of Whitby
Abbey are very magnificent.
Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was
called Holy Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery,
, and from its having been the episcopal seat of the see of Dur-
ham during the early ages of British Christianity. A succes-
sion of holy men held that office; but their merits were swal-
lowed up in the superior fame of St Cuthbert, who was sixth
bishop of Durham, and who bestowed the name of his “patri-
mony” upon the extensive property of the see. The ruins of
the monastery upon Holy Island betoken great antiquity. The
arches are, in general, strictly Saxon; and the pillars which
support them, short, strong, and massy. In some places, how-


xlii NOTES TO CANTO SECONB.
ever, there are pointed windows, which indicate that the build-
ing has been repaired at a period long subsequent to the origi-
nal foundation. The exterior ornaments of the building, being
of a light sandy stone, have been wasted, as described in the
text. Lindisfarne is not properly an island, but rather, as the
venerable Bede has termed it, a semi-isle; for, although sur-
rounded by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands dry
between it and the opposite coast of Northumberland, from
which it is about two miles distant. … e.”
Note VIII.
Then Whitby's nuns, erulting, told,
How to their house three Barons told
Must menial service do.—P.90.
The popular account of this curious service, which was pro-
bably considerably exaggerated, is thus given in “A True Ac-
count,” printed and circulated at Whitby: “In the fifth year of
the reign of Henry II, after the conquest of England by
William, Duke of Normandy, the lord of Uglebarnby, then
called William de Bruce; the lord of Smeaton, called Ralph
de Percy; with a gentleman and freeholder called Allatson,
did, on the 16th of October, 1159, appoint to meet and hunt
the wild boar, in a certain wood, or desart place, belonging to
the abbot of Whitby: the place's name was Eskdale-side; and
the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, these young gentlemen
being met, with their hounds, and boar-staves, in the place be-
fore mentioned, and there having found a great wild boar, the


NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xliii
hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage of
Eskdale-side, where was a monk of Whitby, who was an her-
mit. The boar being very sorely pursued, and dead-run, took
in at the chapel door, there laid him down, and presently died.
The hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself
within at his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at
bay without. The gentlemen, in the thick of the wood, being
put behind their game, followed the cry of their hounds, and
so came to the hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opened
the door, and came forth; and within they found the boar lying
dead: for which, the gentlemen, in a very great fury, because
the hounds were put from their game, did most violently and
cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he
soon after died. Thereupon the gentlemen perceiving and
knowing that they were in peril of death, took sanctuary at
Scarborough : But at that time the abbot being in very great
favour with the king, removed them out of the sanctuary;
whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be privi-
leged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was
death for death. But the hermit being a holy and devout man,
and at the point of death, sent for the abbot, and desired him
to send for the gentlemen who had wounded him. The abbot
so doing, the gentlemen came; and the hermit being very sick
and weak, said unto them, “I am sure to die of those wounds
you have given me.’ The abbot answered, “They shall as sure-
ly die for the same.’ But the hermit answered, ‘Not so, for I
will freely forgive them my death, if they will be content to be


*fiv NOTES TO CANTO SECONI),
–
enjoined the penance I shall lay on them for the safeguard of
their souls.” The gentlemen being present, bade him save their
lives. Then said the hermit : “You and yours shall hold your
lands of the abbot of Whitby, and his successors, in this man-
ner: That, upon Ascension-day, you, or some of you, shall
come to the wood of the Stray-heads, which is in Eskdale-side,
the same day at sun-rising, and there shall the abbot's officer
blow his horn, to the intent that you may know where to find
him; and he shall deliver unto you, William de Bruce, ten
stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yethers, to be cut by
you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price; and you,
Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be cut
in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of each
sort, to be cut as aforesaid; and to be taken on your backs,
and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before mine
of the clock the same day before mentioned. At the same
hour of nine of the clock, if it be full sea, your labour and ser-
vice shall cease; and, if low water, each of you shall set your
stakes to the brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so
yether them on each side with your yethers; and so stake on
each side with your strout stowers, that they may stand three
tides, without removing by the force thereof. Each of you
shall do, make, and execute, the said service, at that very hour,
every year, except it be full sea at that hour; but when it shall
so fall out, this service shall cease. You shall faithfully do
this, in remembrance that you did most cruelly slay me; and
that you may the better call to God for mercy, repent unfeign-


NOTES TO CANTO SECONI), xlv.
edly of your sins, and do good works. The officer of Eskdale-
side shall blow, Out on you! Out on you ! Out on you ! for
this heinous crime. If you, or your successors, shall refuse this
service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour,
you, or yours, shall forfeit your lands to the abbot of Whitby,
or his successors. This I entreat, and earnestly beg, that you may
have lives and goods preserved for this service; and I request
of you to promise, by your parts in heaven, that it shall be done
by you, and your successors, as is aforesaid requested; and I
will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.' Then the hermit
said, “My soul longeth for the Lord; and I do as freely forgive
these men my death, as Christ forgave the thieves on the cross.”
And, in the presence of the abbot and the rest, he said more-
over these words: “In manus tuos, Domine, commendo spiri-
tum meum, a vinculis enim mortis redemptisti me, Domine ve-
ritatis. Amen.”—So he yielded up the ghost the eighth day of -
December, anno Domini 1159, whose soul God have mercy
upon. Amen.
“This service,” it is added, “still continues to be perform-
ed with the prescribed ceremonies, though not by the proprie-
tors in person. Part of the lands charged therewith are now
held by a gentleman of the name of Herbert.”
Note IX.
The lovely Edelfled.—P. 91.
She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to
heaven for the great victory which he won in 655, against


xlvi NOTES TO CANTO SECOND,
Penda, the pagan king of Mercia, dedicated Edelfleda, then
but a year old, to the service of God in the monastery of Whit-
by, of which St Hilda was then abbess. She afterwards adorned
the place of her education with great magnificence.
Note X.
of thousand snakes, each one
Was changed into a coil of stone,
- When holy Hilda prayed.
how sea-fowls' pinions fail,
As over Whitby's towers they sail.-P. 91.
These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient
writers, who have occasion to mention either Whitby, or St
Hilda. The reliques of the snakes which infested the precincts
of the convent, and were, at the abbess's prayer, not only be-
headed, but petrified, are still found about the rocks, and are
termed by Protestant fossilists Ammonita,
The other miracle is thus mentioned by Camden: “It is also
ascribed to the power of her sanctity, that these wild geese,
which, in the winter, fly in great flocks to the lakes and rivers
unfrozen in the southern parts, to the great amazement of every
one, fall down suddenly upon the ground, when they are in
their flight over certain neighbouring flelds hereabouts: a rela-
tion I should not have made, if I had not received it from se-
veral credible men. But those who are less inclined to heed
supersition, attribute it to some occult quality in the ground,
and to somewhat of antipathy between it and the geese, such


xlviii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND.
tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham; from thence
he went to Melrose, where he remained stationary for a short
time, and then caused himself to be launched upon the Tweed
in a stone coffin, which landed him at Tillmouth, in Northum-
berland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, three feet
and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick; so that,
with very little assistance, it might certainly have swam: It
still lies, or at least did so a few years ago, in two pieces, beside
the ruined chapel of Tillmouth. From Tillmouth, Cuthbert
wandered into Yorkshire; and at length made a long stay at
Chester-le-street, to which the bishop's see was transferred.
At length, the Danes continuing to infest the country, the
monks removed to Rippon for a season; and it was in return
from thence to Chester-le-street, that, passing through a forest
called Dunholme, the Saint and his carriage became immove-
able at a place named Wardlaw, or Wardilaw. Here the Saint
chose his place of residence; and all who have seen Durham
must admit, that, if difficult in his choice, he evinced taste in at
length fixing it. It is said, that the Northumbrian Catholics
still keep secret the precise spot of the Saint's sepulture, which
is only entrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies,
the survivors associate to them, in his room, a person judged fit
to be the depositary of so valuable a secret.
8


NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xlix
Note XII.
Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, &c.
Before his standard fled.—P. 93.
Every one has heard, that when David I., with his son Henry,
invaded Northumberland in 1136, the English host marched
against them under the holy banner of St Cuthbert; to the
efficacy of which was imputed the great victory which they ob-
tained in the bloody battle of Northallerton, or Cuton-moor.
The conquerors were at least as much indebted to the jealousy
and intractability of the different tribes who composed David's
army; among whom, as mentioned in the text, were the Gal-
wegians, the Britons of Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviotdale
and Lothian, with many Norman and German warriors, who
asserted the cause of the Empress Maud. See CHALMERs'
Caledonia, p. 622.; a most laborious, curious, and interesting
publication, from which considerable defects of style and man-
ner ought not to turn aside the Scottish antiquary.
Note XIII.
'Twas he, to vindicate his reign,
Edged Alfred's faulchion on the Dane,
And turned the Conqueror back again.—P. 94.
Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the
Danes, when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find in Si-
meon of Durham, that the Saint appeared in a vision to Alfred,
when lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and promised him
d


I NOTES TO CANTO SECONI).
assistance and victory over his heathen enemies: a consolation
which, as was reasonable, Alfred, after the victory of Ashen-
down, rewarded, by a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint.
As to William the Conqueror, the terror spread before his ar-
my, when he marched to punish the revolt of the Northumbri-
ans, in 1096, had forced the monks to fly once more to Holy
Island with the body of the Saint. It was, however, replaced
before William left the North; and, to balance accounts, the
Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet curiosity to view the
Saint's body, he was, while in the act of commanding the shrine
to be opened, seized with heat and sickness, accompanied with
such a panic terror, that, notwithstanding there was a sumptu-
ous dinner prepared for him, he fled without eating a morsel,
(which the monkish historian seems to have thought no small
part both of the miracle and the penance) and never drew his
bridle till he got to the river Tees.
Note XIV.
St Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame
The sea-born beads, that bear his name.—P.94.
Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his life,
such an artificer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, since
his death, he has acquired the reputation of forging those En-
trochi which are found among the rocks of Holy Island, and
pass there by the name of St Cuthbert's Beads. While at this
task, he is supposed to sit during the night upon a certain rock,
and use another as his anvil. This story was perhaps credited


NOTES TO CANTO SECON D. Ii
in former days; at least the Saint's legend contains some not
more probable.
Note XV.
, Old Colwulf—P. 95.
Ceolwolf, or Colwulf, King of Northumberland, flourished
in the eighth century. He was a man of some learning; for
the venerable Bede dedicates to him his “Ecclesiastical His-
tory.” He abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to
Holy Island, where he died in the odour of sanctity. Saint as
Colwulf was, however, I fear the foundation of the penance-
vault does not correspond with his character; for it is record-
ed among his memorabilia, that, finding the air of the island raw
and cold, he indulged the monks, whose rule had hitherto con-
fined them to milk or water, with the comfortable privilege of
using wine or ale. If any rigid antiquary insists on this objec-
tion, he is welcome to suppose the penance-vault was intend-
ed, by the founder, for the more genial purposes of a cellar.
These penitential-vaults were the Geissel-gewolbe of German
convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monastic dis-
cipline, they were sometimes used as a cemetery for the lay
benefactors of the convent, whose unsanctified corpses were
then seldom permitted to pollute the choir. They also served
as places of meeting for the chapter, when measures of uncom-
mon severity were to be adopted. But their most frequent
use, as implied by the name, was as places for performing pe-
nances, or undergoing punishment.


ſii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND.
Note XVI.
Tynemouth's haughty Prioress—P. 98.
That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain.
Its ruins are situated on a high rocky point; and, doubtless,
many a vow was made the shrine by the distressed mariners,
who drove towards the iron-bound coast of Northumberland in
stormy weather. It was anciently a nunnery; for Virca, ab-
bess of Tynemouth, presented St Cuthbert (yet alive) with a
rare winding-sheet, in emulation of a holy lady called Tuda,
who had sent him a coffin: But, as in the case of Whitby, and
of Holy Island, the introduction of nuns at Tynemouth, in the
reign of Henry VIII., is an anachronism. The nunnery at
Holy Island is altogether fictitious. Indeed, St Cuthbert was
unlikely to permit such an establishment; for, notwithstanding
his accepting the mortuary gifts above mentioned, and his car-
rying on a visiting acquaintance with the abbess of Colding-
ham, he certainly hated the whole female sex; and, in revenge
of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, he, after
death, inflicted severe penances on such as presumed to ap-
proach within a certain distance of his shrine.
Note XVII.
On those the wall was to inclose
Alive, within the tomb—P. 103.
It is well known, that the religious, who broke their vows of
chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman


= = = = = = = =


**-
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD.
Note I.
The village Inn.—P. 135.
The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the
16th century, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable tale
of “The Friars of Berwick.” Simon Lawder, “the gay ostleir.”
seems to have lived very comfortably; and his wife decorated
her person with a scarlet kirtle, and a belt of silk and silver,
and rings upon her fingers; and feasted her paramour with
rabbits, capons, partridges, and Bourdeaux wine. At least, if
the Scottish inns were not good, it was not for want of encou-
ragement from the legislature; who, so early as the reign of
James I., not only enacted, that in all boroughs and fairs there
be hostellaries, having stables and chambers, and provision for
man and horse, but, by another statute, ordained, that no man,
travelling on horse or foot, should presume to lodge any where
except in these hostellaries; and that no person, save inn-
keepers, should receive such travellers, under the penalty of
forty shillings, for exercising such hospitality.” But, in spite of
* James I. Parliament I. cap. 24. ; Parliament III. cap. 56.


lvi NOTES TO CANTO THIRD.
these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but indif-
ferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the houses
of individuals.
Note II.
The death of a dear friend—P. 145. -
Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among
the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the “dead-bell,” ex-
plained, by my friend James Hogg, to be that tinkling in the
ears which the country people regard as the secret intelligence
of some friend's decease. He tells a story to the purpose in
the “Mountain Bard,” p. 26.
Note III.
The Goblin Hall.—P.151.
A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester,
(for it bears either name indifferently,) the construction of
which has, from a very remote period, been ascribed to magic.
The Statistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro,
gives the following account of the present state of this castle
and apartment: “Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of
Hopes on the east, and a large rivulet on the west, stands the
ancient castle of Yester. Sir David Dalrymple, in his Annals,
relates, that “ Hugh Gifford de Yester died in 1267; that in his
castle there was a capacious cavern formed by magical art, and
called in the country Bo-hall, i. e. Hobgoblin Hall.” A stair of
twenty-four steps led down to this apartment, which is a large


NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. lvii
and spacious hall, with an arched roof; and though it hath
stood for so many centuries, and been exposed to the external
air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is still as firm and en-
tire as if it had only stood a few years. From the floor of this
hall, another stair of thirty-six steps leads down to a pit which
hath a communication with Hopes-water. A great part of the
(walls of this large and ancient castle are still standing. There
is a tradition, that the castle of Yester was the last fortification
in this country, that surrendered to General Gray, sent into
Scotland by Protector Somerset.” Statistical Account, Vol.
XIII. I have only to add, that, in 1737, the Goblin Hall was
tenanted by the Marquis of Tweedale's falconer, as I learn from
a poem by Boyse, entitled “Retirement,” written upon visiting
Yester. It is now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair.
Sir David Dalrymple's authority for the anecdote is Fordun,
whose words are, “A. D. Mcclxvi.1, Hugo Giffard de Yester
moritur; cujus castrum, vel saltem caveam, et dongionem, arte
damonică antique relationes ferunt fabrifactas: nam ibidem
habetur mirabilis specus subterraneus, opere mirifico construc-
tus, magno terrarum spatio protelatus, qui communiter 150-bail
appellatus est.” Lib. X. cap. 21-Sir David conjectures, that
Hugh de Gifford must have been either a very wise man, or a
great oppressor.


lviii NOTES TO CANTO THIRD.
Note IV.
There floated Haco's banner trim,
Above Norweyan warriors grim.—P. 153.
In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Firth of
Clyde with a powerful armament, and made a descent at Largs,
in Ayrshire. Here he was encountered and defeated, on the
2d October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated to Orkney,
where he died soon after this disgrace to his arms. There are
still existing, near the place of battle, many barrows, some of
which having been opened, were found, as usual, to contain .
bones and urns.
Note V.
His wizard habit strange.—P. 153.
“Magicians, as is well known, were very curious in the choice
and form of their vestments. Their caps are oval, or like py-
ramids, with lappets on each side, and fur within. Their gowns
are long, and furred with fox-skins, under which they have a
linen garment, reaching to the knee. Their girdles are three
inches broad, and have many cabalistical names, with crosses,
trines, and circles, inscribed on them. Their shoes should be of
new russet leather, with a cross cut upon them. Their knives
are dagger fashion; and their swords have neither guard nor
scabbard.” See these, and many other particulars, in the Dis-
course concerning Devils and Spirits, annexed to Regisaid
Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, edition 1665.


lx NOTES TO CANTO THIRD.
will shew whence many of the particulars of the combat be-
tween Alexander III. and the Goblin Knight are derived:
“Gervase of Tilbury (Otia Imperial, ap. Script. rer. Bruns-
vic, Vol. I, p. 797) relates the following popular story con-
cerning a fairy knight: ‘Osbert, a bold and powerful baron,
visited a noble family in the vicinity of Wandlebury, in the
bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related in the social cir-
cle of his friends, who, according to custom, amused each other
by repeating ancient tales and traditions, he was informed, that
if any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by moon-
light, and challenged an adversary to appear, he would be im-
mediately encountered by a spirit in the form of a knight. Os-
bert resolved to make the experiment, and set out, attended
by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain without the
limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient en-
trenchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly as-
sailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized
the reins of his steed. During this operation, his ghostly op-
ponent sprung up, and, darting his spear, like a javelin, at Os-
bert, wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph
with the horse, which he committed to the care of his servants.
The horse was of a sable colour, as well as his whole accoutre-
ments, and apparently of great beauty and vigour. He remain-
ed with his keeper till cock-crowing, when, with eyes flashing
fire, he reared, spurned the ground, and vallished. On dis-
arming himself, Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and


TNOTES TO CANTO THIRD, 1xi
that ene of his steel-boots was full of blood. Gervase adds,
that, as long as he lived, the scar of his wound opened afresh
on the anniversary of the eve on which he encountered the
spirit.—Less fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight, who,
travelling by night, with a single companion, came in sight of
a Fairy host, arrayed under displayed banners. Despising the
remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to
break a lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks,
apparently in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian
overthrown, horse and man, by his aerial adversary; and re-
turning to the spot next morning, he found the mangled corpses
of the knight and steed.”— Hierarchie of Blessed Angels,
p. 554-
Besides the instances of Elfin Chivalry, above quoted, many
others might be alleged in support of employing Fairy ma-
chinery in this manner. The forest of Glenmore, in the North
Highlands, is believed to be haunted by a spirit called Lham-
dearg, in the array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody-
hand, from which he takes his name. He insists upon those
with whom he meets doing battle with him; and the clergy-
man, who makes up an account of the district, extant in the
Macfarlane MS., in the Advocates' Library, gravely assures
us, that, in his time, Lham-dearg fought with three brothers
whom he met in his walk, none of whom long survived the
ghostly conflict. Barclay, in his “Euphormion,” gives a sin-
gular account of an officer who had ventured, with his ser-
vant, rather to intrude upon a haunted house, in a town in


Ixii NOTES TO CANTO THIRD,
Flanders, than to put up with worse quarters elsewhere. Af-
ter taking the usual precautions of providing fires, lights, and
arms, they watched till midnight, when, behold! the severed
arm of a man dropped from the ceiling; this was followed by
the legs, the other arm, the trunk, and the head of the body,
all separately. The members rolled together, united them-
selves in the presence of the astonished soldiers, and formed a
gigantic warrior, which defied them both to combat. Their
blows, although they penetrated the body, and amputated the
limbs of their strange antagonist, had, as the reader may easi-
ly believe, little effect on an enemy who possessed such pow-
ers of self-union; nor did his efforts make more effectual im-
pression upon them. How the combat terminated I do not
exactly remember, and have not the book by me; but I think -
the spirit made to the intruders on his mansion the usual pro-
posal, that they should renounce their redemption; which be-
ing declined, he was obliged to retreat.
The most singular tale of the kind is contained in an ex-
tract communicated to me by my friend Mr Surtees of Mains-
forth, in the bishopric, who copied it from a MS. note in a
copy of Burthogge “On the Nature of Spirits,” 8vo, 1694,
which had been the property of the late Mr Gill, attorney-
general to Egerton, Bishop of Durham. “It was not,” says
my obliging correspondent, “in Mr Gill's own hand, but pro-
bably an hundred years older, and was said to be E libro Con-
vent. Dunelm. per T. C. extract., whom I believe to have
been Thomas Cradocke, Esq. barrister, who held several of


NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. lxiii
fices under the see of Durham an hundred years ago. Mr
Gill was possessed of most of his manuscripts.” The extract,
which, in fact, suggested the introduction of the tale into the
present poem, runs thus:
“Rem miram hujusmodi qua nostris temporibus evenit, teste
viro nobili ac fide dignissimo, enarrare haud pigebit. Radulphus
Bulmer, cum e castris quae tunc temporis prope Norham posita
erant, oblectationis causa eriissit, ac in ulteriore Tueda ripá
pradam cum canibus leporariis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto
quodam nobili, sibi antehac ut videbatur familiariter cognito,
congressus est; ac ut fas eral inter inimicos, flagrante bello,
brevissimá interrogationis morá interpositá, alterutros invicem
incitato cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, primo occursu,
equo prae acerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terram eversus
pectore et capite laso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomebat.
Quem ut se agre habentem comiter allocutus est alter, pollici-
tusque modo auxilium non abnegaret, monitisque obtemperans ab
omni rerum sacrarum cogitatione abstineret, nec Deo, Deipara
Virgini, Sanctove ullo, preces aut vota efferret vel inter sese
conciperet, se brevi eum sanum validumque restiturum esse.
Prae angore oblata conditio accepta est; ac veterator ille nes-
cio quid obscani murmuris insusurrans, prehensa manu, dicto ci-
tius in pedes sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem, mari-
mapre rei inauditá novitate formidine perculsus, Mr Jesu !
exclamat, vel quid simile ; ac subite respiciens nec hostem nec
ullum alium conspicit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu aflic-
tum, per summam pacem in rivo fluvii pascentem. Ad castra


NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH.
Note I.
Close to the hut, no more his own,
Close to the aid he sought in vain,
The morn may find the stiffened swain.—P. 175.
I cannot help here mentioning, that, on the night in which
these lines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sud-
den fall of snow, beginning after sunset, an unfortunate man
perished exactly in the manner here described, and his body
was next morning found close to his own house. The accident
happened within five miles of the farm of Ashestiel.
Note II.
Scarce had lamented Forbes paid, &c.—P. 178.
Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Baronet; unequalled, per-
haps, in the degree of individual affection entertained for him
e


Ixvi NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH.
by his friends, as well as in the general respect and esteem of
Scotland at large. His “Life of Beattie,” whom he befriend-
ed and patronized in life, as well as celebrated after his de-
cease, was not long published, before the benevolent and affec-
tionate biographer was called to follow the subject of his narra-
tive. This melancholy event very shortly succeeded the mar-
riage of the friend, to whom this introduction is addressed,
with one of Sir William's daughters.
Note III.
Friar Rush.-P. 187.
This personage is a strolling demon, or esprit follet, who,
once upon a time, got admittance into a monastery as a scul-
lion, and played the monks many pranks. He was also a sort
of Robin Goodfellow, and Jack o’ Lanthorn. It is in allusion
to this mischievous demon that Milton's clown speaks,—
She was pinched, and pulled, she said,
And he by friar's lanthorn led.
“The History of Friar Rush" is of extreme rarity, and, for
some time, even the existence of such a book was doubted,
although it is expressly alluded to by Reginald Scot, in his
“Discovery of Witchcraft.” I have perused a copy in the
valuable library of my friend Mr Heber; and I observe, from
Mr Beloe's “Anecdotes of Literature," that there is one in
the excellent collection of the Marquis of Stafford.
5


NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxix
solemnity, dined at the king's table, wearing the crown. It is
probable that the coronation of his predecessor was not less,
solemn. So sacred was the herald's office, that, in 1515, Lord
Drummond was by parliament declared guilty of treason, and
his lands forfeited, because he had struck, with his fist, the
Lion King-at-arms, when he reproved him for his follies.”
Nor was he restored, but at the Lion's earnest solicitation.
Note V.
Crichton Castle.—P. 196. -
A large ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about seven
miles from Edinburgh. As indicated in the text, it was built
at different times, and with a very differing regard to splen-
dour and accommodation." The oldest part of the building is
a narrow keep, or tower, such as formed the mansion of a les-
ser Scottish baron; but so many additions have been made to
it, that there is now a large court-yard, surrounded by build-
ings of different ages. The eastern front of the court is raised
above a portico, and decorated with entablatures, bearing an-
chors. All the stones of this front are cut into diamond facets,
the angular projections of which have an uncommonly rich ap-
pearance. The inside of this part of the building appears to
* The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the
cause of forfeiture to be, “Eo quod Leonem armorum Regem
pugno violasset, dum eum de ineptiis suis admonet.” See Nisbet's
Heraldry, Part IV. chap. 16. ; and LEs Lei Historia ad Annum
1515.


ixx Notes to CANTo Fourth.
have contained a gallery of great length, and uncommon ele-
gance. Access was given to it by a magnificent stair-case, now
quite destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining cor-
dage and rosettes; and the whole seems to have been far more
splendid than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle be-
longed originally to the Chancellor Sir William Crichton, and
probably owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being
taken by the Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton's
counsels the death of his predecessor Earl William, beheaded
in Edinburgh Castle, with his brother, in 1440. It is said to
have been totally demolished on that occasion; but the pre-
sent state of the ruins shews the contrary. In 1483, it was
garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its proprietor, against King
James III, whose displeasure he had incurred by seducing his
sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for the monarch having
dishonoured his bed. From the Crichton family the castle
passed to that of the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell; and when the
forfeitures of Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were divided,
the barony and castle of Crichton fell to the share of the
Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of the
Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callander,
Baronet. It were to be wished the proprietor would take a
littie pains to preserve these splendid remains of antiquity,
which are at present used as a fold for sheep, and wintering
cattle; although, perhaps, there are very few ruins in Scotland
which display so well the stile and beauty of ancient castle-
architecture. The castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, cal-


Notes 'TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxi.
led the Massy More. The epithet, which is not uncommonly
applied to the prisons of other old castles in Scotland, is of
Saracenic origin. It occurs twice in the “Epistolæ Itinera-
ria” of Tollius: “Carcer subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appel-
lant, MAzMoRRA,” p. 147. and again, “Coguntur omnes Cap-
tivi sub noctem in ergastula subterranea, qua, Turca, Algezera-
ni vocant MAzMoRRAs," p. 243. The same word applies to the
dungeons of the ancient Moorish castles in Spain, and serves
to shew from what nation the Gothic stile of castle-building
was originally derived.
Note VI.
Earl Adam Hepburn.-P. 199.
He was the second Earl of Bothwell, and fell in the field of
Flodden, where, according to an ancient English poet, he dis-
tinguished himself by a furious attempt to retrieve the day:-
Then on the Scottish part, right proud,
The Earl of Bothwell then out brast,
And stepping forth, with stomach good,
Into the enemies throng he thrast;
And Bothwell ! Bothwell t cried bold,
To cause his souldiers to ensue,
But there he caught a wellcome cold,
The Englishmen straight down him threw.
Flodden Field.
Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothwell, too well
known in the history of Queen Mary.


NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxiii
to; but he had nothing on his head, but syde * red yellow hair
behind, and on his haffets,t which wan down to his shoulders;
but his forehead was bald and bare. He seemed to be a man
of two-and-fifty years, with a great pike-staff in his hand, and
came first forward among the lords, crying and speiringſ for
the king, saying, he desired to speak with him. While, at the
last, he came where the king was sitting in the desk at his
prayers; but when he saw the king, he made him little reve-
rence or salutation, but leaned down grofling on the desk be-
fore him, and said to him in this manner, as after follows:
‘Sir king, my mother hath sent me to you, desiring you not to
pass, at this time, where thou art purposed ; for if thou does,
thou wilt not fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth
with thee. Further, she bade thee mell $ with no woman, nor
use their counsel, nor let them touch thy body, nor thou theirs;
for, if thou do it, thou wilt be confounded and brought to
shame.
“By this man had spoken thir words unto the king's grace,
the evening song was near done, and the king paused on thir
words, studying to give him an answer; but, in the mean time,
before the king's eyes, and in the presence of all the lords that
were about him for the time, this man vanished away, and
could do ways be seen or comprehended, but vanished away as
he had been a blink of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and
could no more be seen. I heard say, Sir David Lindesay, lyon-
* Long. + Cheeks. f Asking. § Meddle.


hyxiv. NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH.
herauld, and John Inglis the marshal, who were, at that time,
young men, and special servants to the king's grace, were
standing presently beside the king, who thought to have laid
hands on this man, that they might have speired further tidings
at him: But all for nought; they could not touch him; for he
vanished away betwixt them, and was no more seen.”
Buchanan, in more elegant, though not more impressive
language, tells the same story, and quotes the personal infor-
mation of our Sir David Lindesay: “In its (i.e. qui proprius
astiterant) fuit David Lindesius, Montanus, homo spectata:
fidei et probitatis, nec a literarum studiis alienus, et cujus tota
vita tenor longissime a mentiendo aberrat; a quo nisi ego haec
uti tradidi, pro certis accepissem, ut vulgatam vanis rumoribus
fabulam, omissurus eram.”—Lib. XIII. The king's throne, in
St Catharine's aisle, which he had constructed for himself, with
twelve stalls for the Knights Counpanions of the Order of the
Thistle, is still shown as the place where the apparition was
seen. I know not by what means St Andrew got the credit of
having been the celebrated monitor of James IV.; for the ex-
pression in Lindesay's narrative, “My mother has sent me,”
could only be used by St John, the adopted son of the Virgin
Mary. The whole story is so well attested, that we have only
the choice between a miracle or an imposture. Mr Pinkerton
plausibly argues, from the caution against incontinence, that
the queen was privy to the scheme of those who had recourse
to this expedient, to deter King James from his impolitic war-
fare.


NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxw
Note VII.
The wild buck bells.-P. 201. -
I am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer
by another word than braying, although the latter has been
sanctified by the use of the Scottish metrical translation of the .
Psalms. Bell seems to be an abbreviation of bellow. This
sylvan sound conveyed great delight to our ancestors, chiefly, I
suppose, from association. A gentle knight in the reign of
Henry VIII., Sir Thomas Wortley, built Wantley Lodge, in
Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure (as an ancient inscription
testifies,) of “listening to the hart's bell.”
Note VIII.
June saw his father's overthrow—P. 201.
The rebellion against James III. was signalized by the cruel
circumstance of his son's presence in the hostile army. When
the king saw his own banner displayed against him, and his son
in the faction of his enemies, he lost the little courage he ever
possessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as it started at
a woman and water pitcher, and was slain, it is not well under-
stood by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stirling,
and hearing the monks of the chapel royal, deploring the death
of his father, their founder, he was seized with deep remorse,
which manifested itself in severe penances. See a following
Note on Canto V. The battle of Sauchie-burn, in which
James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 1488.


lxxvi NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH.
Note IX.
Spread all the Borough-Moor below, &c.—P. 213.
The Borough, or Common Moor of Edinburgh, was of very
great extent, reaching from the southern walls of the city to the
bottom of Braid Hills. It was anciently a forest; and, in that
state, was so great a nuisance, that the inhabitants of Edin-
burgh had permission granted to them of building wooden gal-
leries, projecting over the street, in order to encourage them
to consume the timber; which they seem to have done very
effectually. When James IV. mustered the array of the king-
dom there, in 1513, the Borough-Moor was, according to Haw-
thornden, “a field spacious, and delightful by the shade of
many stately and aged oaks.” Upon that, and similar occa-
sions, the royal standard is traditionally said to have been
displayed from the Hare Stane, a high stone, now built into the
wall, on the left hand of the high way leading towards Braid,
not far from the head of Bruntsfeld-links. The Hare Stone
probably derives its name from the British word Har, signify-
ing an army.
Note X.
O'er the pavilions flew.—P. 216.
I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in
1513, but Patten gives a curious description of that which he
saw after the battle of Pinkey, in 1547:—“Here now to say
some what of the maner of their camp: As they had no pavi-


NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxvii.
lions, or round houses, of any commendable compas, so wear
there few other tentes with posts, as the used maner of making
is; and of these few also, none of above twenty foot length,
but most far under; for the most part all very sumptuously
beset, (after their fashion) for the love of France, with fleur-
de-lys, some of blue buckeram, some of black, and some of
some other colours. These white ridges, as I call them, that,
as we stood on Fauxsyde Bray, did make so great muster to-
ward us, which I did take then,to be a number of tentes, when
we came, we found it a linnen drapery, of the coarser cambryk
in dede, for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles,
or rather cabayns and couches of their soldiers; the which
(much after the common building of their country beside) had
they framed of four sticks, about an ell long a piece, whearof
two fastened together at one end aloft, and the two endes be-
neath stuck in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion
like the bowes of a sowes yoke; over two such bowes (one, as
it were, at their head, the other at their feet,) they stretched a
sheet down on both sides, whereby their cabin became roofed
like a ridge, but skant shut at both ends, and not very close be-
neath on the sides, unless their sticks were the shorter, or their
wives the more liberal to lend them larger napery; howbeit,
when they had lined them, and stuff'd them so thick with straw,
with the weather as it was not very cold, when they wear ones
couched, they were as warm as they had been wrapt in horses
dung.” PATTEN's Account of Somerset's Erpedition.


NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH.
Note I.
Caledonia's Queen is changed—P. 229.
The Old Town of Edinburgh was secured on the north side
by a lake, now drained, and on the south by a wall, which there
was some attempt to make defensible even so late as 1745.
The gates, and the greater part of the wall, have been pulled
down, in the course of the late extensive and beautiful enlarge-
ment of the city. Mr Thomas Campbell proposed to celebrate
Edinburgh under the epithet here borrowed. But the “Queen
of the North" has not been so fortunate as to receive from so
eminent a pen the proposed distinction.
Note II.
Flinging thy white arms to the sea.—P. 230.
Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed
it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning,
from a chorus in “Caractacus:”
Britain heard the descant bold,
She flung her white arms o'er the sea,
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold
The freight of harmony.


lxxx NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH.
Note III.
Since first, when conquering York arose,
To Henry meek she gave repose.-P. 233.
Henry VI., with his queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his fa-
mily, fled to Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. In this
note a doubt was formerly expressed, whether Henry VI. came to
Edinburgh, though his Queen certainly did; Mr Pinkerton in-
clining to believe that he remained at Kirkcudbright. But my
noble friend, Lord Napier, has pointed out to me a grant by
Henry, of an annuity of forty marks to his Lordship's ancestor,
John Napier, subscribed by the King himself, at Edinburgh, the
28th day of August, in the thirty-ninth year of his reign, which
corresponds to the year of God 1461. This grant, Douglas, with
his usual neglect of accuracy, dates in 1368. But this error
being corrected from the copy in Macfarlane's MSS. p. 119, 120,
removes all scepticism on the subject of Henry VI. being really
at Edinburgh. John Napier was son and heir of Sir Alexander
Napier, and about this time was Provost of Edinburgh. The
hospitable reception of the distressed Monarch and his family,
called forth on Scotland the encomium of Molinet, a contem-
porary poet. The English people, he says,
Ung nouveau roy créerent,
Par despiteur vouloir,
Le vieil en deboutérent,
Et son legitime hoir,
Quifuytuf alla prendre
D'Escossé le garand,


NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxiii
of white or bright harness. They wore white hats, i.e. bright
steel caps, without crest or visor. By an act of James IV.,
their weapon-schawings are appointed to be held four times a-
year, under the aldermen or bailiffs.
Note VIII.
On foot the yeomen too.—P. 244.
Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasan-
try of Scotland, by repeated statutes; spears and axes seem
universally to have been used instead of them. Their defen-
sive armour was the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantine; and
their missile weapons cross-bows and culverins. All wore
swords of excellent temper, according to Patten; and a vo-
luminous handkerchief round their neck, “not for cold, but
for cutting.” The mace also was much used in the Scottish
army: The old poem on the battle of Flodden, mentions a
band—
Who manfully did meet their foes
With leaden mauls, and lances long.
When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, each
man was obliged to appear with forty days provision. When
this was expended, which took place before the battle of Flod-
den, the army melted away of course. Almost all the Scottish
forces, except a few knights, men-at-arms, and the Border-
prickers, who formed excellent light cavalry, acted upon foot,


lxxxviii NOTES TO CANTO FITFH.
being willing to undertake the task of fastening the bell. “I un-
derstand the moral,” said Angus, “and, that what we propose
may not lack execution I will bell the cat.” The rest of the
strange scene is thus told by Pitscottie :-
“By this was advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid,
Cochran, the Earl of Mar, came from the king to the council,
(which council was holden in the kirk of Lawder for the time,)
who was well accompanied with a band of men of war, to the
number of three hundred light axes, all clad in white livery, and
black bends thereon, that they might be known for Cochran the
Earl of Mar's men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie of black
velvet, with a great chain of gold about his neck, to the value of
five hundred crowns, and four blowing horns, with both the
ends of gold and silk, set with precious stone, called a berryl,
hanging in the midst. This Cochran had his heumont born be-
fore him, overgilt with gold; and so were all the rest of his
horns, and all his pallions were of fine canvas of silk, and the
cords thereof fine twined silk, and the chains upon his pallions
were double overgilt with gold.
“This Cochran was so proud in his conceit, that he count-
ed no lords to be marrows to him, therefore he rushed rudely
at the kirk-door. The council enquired who it was that per-
turbed them at that time. Sir Robert Douglas, laird of Loch-
levin, was keeper of the kirk-door at that time, who enquired
who that was that knocked so rudely and Cochran answer-
ed, “This is I, the Earl of Mar.” The which news pleased
well the lords, because they were ready boun to cause take him,


NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxix
as is afore rehearsed. Then the Earl of Angus past hastily to
the door, and with him Sir Robert Douglas of Lochlevin, there
to receive in the Earl of Mar, and so many of his complices
who were there, as they thought good. And the Earl of Angus
met with the Earl of Mar, as he came in at the door, and
pulled the golden chain from his craig, and said to him, a tow *
would set him better. Sir Robert Douglas syne pulled the
blowing-horn from him in like manner, and said, “He had
been the hunter of mischief over long.” This Cochran asked,
“My lords, is it mowst or earnest?” They answered, and
said, it is good earnest, and so thou shalt find: for thou and
thy complices have abused our prince this long time; of whom
thou shalt have no more credence, but shall have thy reward
according to thy good service, as thou hast deserved in times
bypast; right so the rest of thy followers.
“Notwithstanding, the lords held them quiet till they cau-
sed certain armed men to pass into the king's pallion, and
two or three wise men to pass with them, and give the king
fair pleasant words, till they laid hands on all the king's ser-
vants, and took them and hanged them before his eyes over
the bridge of Lawder. Incontinent they brought forth Coch-
ran, and his hands bound with a tow, who desired them to take
one of his own pallion-tows and bind his hands, for he thought
shame to have his hands bound with such tow of hemp, like a
thief. The lords answered, he was a traitor, he deserved no
* Rope. + Jest.


NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xci
wick. The building is not seen till a close approach, as there
is rising ground betwixt it and the land. The circuit is of
large extent, fenced upon three sides by the precipice which
overhangs the sea, and on the fourth by a double ditch and
very strong outworks. Tantallon was a principal castle of the
Douglas family, and when the Earl of Angus was banished, in
1527, it continued to hold out against James V. The king
went in person against it, and, for its reduction, borrowed from
the castle of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of Albany,
two great cannons, whose names, as Pitscottie informs us with
laudable minuteness, were “Thrawn-mouth'd Mow and her
Marrow;” also, “two great botcards and two moyan, two
double falcons, and four quarter-falcons;” for the safe guiding
and re-delivery of which, three lords were laid in pawn at Dun-
bar. Yet, notwithstanding all this apparatus, James was for-
ced to raise the siege, and only afterwards obtained possession
of Tantallon by treaty with the governor, Simeon Panango.
When the Earl of Angus returned from banishment, upon the
death of James, he again obtained possession of Tantallon, and
it actually afforded refuge to an English ambassador, under
circumstances similar to those described in the text. This was
no other than the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided
there for some time under Angus's protection, after the failure
of his negociation for matching the infant Mary with Edward
VI. He says, that though this place was poorly furnished, it
was of such strength as might warrant him against the malice


xcii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH.
*
of his enemies, and that he now thought himself out of dam-
ger."
There is a military tradition, that the old Scotch March was
meant to express the words,
Ding down Tantallon,
Mak a brig to the Bass.
Tantallon was at length “dung down” and ruined by the
Covenanters; its lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a fa-
vourer of the royal cause. The castle and barony were sold
in the beginning of the eighteenth century to President Dal-
rymple of North Berwick, by the then Marquis of Douglas.
Note XVI.
Their motto on his blade.—P. 264.
A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, bears,
among a great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing to a
heart, which is placed betwixt them, and the date 1329, being
the year in which Bruce charged the Good Lord Douglas to
carry his heart to the Holy Land. The following lines (the
first couplet of which is quoted by Godscroft as a popular say-
ing in his time) are inscribed around the emblem:
So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beinge,
Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine.
l
* The very curious State Papers of this able negociator, are
shortly to be published by Mr Clifford, with some Notes, by the
Author of MARMIon.


xciw NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH,
trial by duel, to find salvos for the strange and obviously pre-
carious chances of the combat. Various curious evasive shifts,
used by those who took up an unrighteous quarrel, were sup-
posed sufficient to convert it into a just one. Thus, in the ro-
mance of “Amys and Amelion,” the one brother-in-arms,
fighting for the other, disguised in his armour, swears that he
did not commit the crime of which the Steward, his antagonist,
truly, though maliciously, accused him whom he represented.
Brantome tells a story of an Italian, who entered the lists up-
on an unjust quarrel, but, to make his cause good, fled from
his enemy at the first onset. “Turn, coward "exclaimed his
antagonist; “Thou liest,” said the Italian, “coward am I
none; and in this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my first
cause of combat was unjust, and I abandon it.” “Je vous
laisse a penser,” adds Brantome, “s'il ny a pas de l'abus la.”
Elsewhere he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which
those who had a righteous cause entertained of victory; “Un
autre abus y avoit-il, que ceur qui avoient un juste subjet de
querelle, et qu'on les faisoit jurer avant entrer au camp, pen-
soient estre aussitost vainqueurs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du
tout, mesmes que leurs confesseurs, parrains et confidants leurs
en respondoient tout-a-fait, comme si Dieu leur en eust donné
wne patente ; et ne regardant point à d'autres fautes passées,
et que Dieu en garde la punition à ce coup la pour plus grande,
despiteuse, et exemplaire.”—Discours sur les Duels.


NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcvii
by Robert Borthwick, the master-gunner, with other small ar-
tillery, bullet, powder, and all manner of order, as the master-
gunner could devise.
“In this mean time, when they were taking forth their ar-
tillery, and the king being in the Abbey for the time, there was
a cry heard at the Market-cross of Edinburgh, at the hour of
midnight, proclaiming as it had been a summons, which was
named and called by the proclaimer thereof, The Summons of
Plotcock; which desired all men to compear, both Earl and
Lord, and Baron, and all honest gentlemen within the town
(every man specified by his own name,) to compear, within the
space of forty days, before his master, where it should happen
him to appoint, and be for the time, under the pain of disobedi-
ence. But whether this summons was proclaimed by vain per-
sons, night-walkers, or drunken men, for their pastime, or if it
was a spirit, I cannot tell truly; but it was shown to me, that an
indweller of the town, Mr Richard Lawson, being evil-disposed,
ganging in his gallery-stair foreanent the cross, hearing this voice
proclaiming this summons, thought marvel what it should be,
cried on his servant to bring him his purse; and when he had
brought him it, he took out a crown, and cast over the stair,
saying, I appeal from that summons, judgment, and sentence
thereof, and takes me all whole in the mercy of God, and
Christ Jesus his son. Verily the author of this, that caused me
write the manner of the summons, was a landed gentleman,
who was at that time twenty years of age, and was in the town
the time of the said summons; and thereafter, when the field
9.


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH.
I.
the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain.—P. 299.
The Iol of the heathen Danes, (a word still applied to Christ-
mas in Scotland,) was solemnized with great festivity. The
humour of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting each
other with bones; and Torfaeus tells a long and curious story,
in the history of Hrolfe Kraka, of one Hottus, an inmate of
the court of Denmark, who was so generally assailed with
these missiles, that he constructed, out of the bones with
which he was overwhelmed, a very respectable entrenchment,
against those who continued the raillery. The dances of the
northern warriors round the great fires of pine-trees are com-
memorated by Olaus Magnus, who says, they danced with
such fury, holding each other by the hands, that, if the grasp
of any failed, he was pitched into the fire with the velocity of
a sling. The sufferer, on such occasions, was instantly pluck-
ed out, and obliged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a
penalty for “spoiling the king's fire.”


c NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH.
Note II.
On Christmas eve the mass was sung—P. 300.
In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night,
excepting on Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which
that holiday used to be celebrated, might admit of a long and
curious note; but I shall content myself with the following
description of Christmas, and his attributes, as personified in
one of Ben Jonson's Masques for the court.
“IEnter CHRISTMAS, with two or three of the Guard. He is
attired in round hose, long stockings, a close doublet, a high-
crowned hat, with a broach, a long thin beard, a truncheon,
little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, and
his drum beaten before him.”—
“The names of his children, with their attires.
“Miss-Rule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak,
great yellow ruff, like a reveller; his torch-bearer bearing a
rope, a cheese, and a basket.
“Caroll, a long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his
girdle; his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open.
“Minc'd-pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat, her man car-
rying a pie, dish, and spoons.
“Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells; his torch-
bearer arm'd with cole-staff, and blinding cloth.
“Post and Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his gar-
ment all done over with pairs and purs; his squire carrying a
box, cards, and counters.


cii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH.
was deposited. One played a Champion, and recited some tra-
ditional rhymes; another was
... . . . . . . Alexander, king of Macedon,
Who conquered all the world but Scotland alone;
When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold,
To see a little nation courageous and bold.
These, and many such verses, were repeated, but by rote, and
unconnectedly. There was also occasionally, I believe, a Saint
George. In all, there was a confused resemblance of the an-
cient mysteries, in which the characters of scripture, the Nine
Worthies, and other popular personages, were usually exbibited.
It were much to be wished, that the Chester Mysteries were
published from the MS. in the Museum, with the annotations
which a diligent investigator of popular antiquities might still
supply. The late acute and valuable antiquary, Mr Ritson, show-
ed me several memoranda towards such a task, which are pro-
bably now dispersed or lost. See, however, his Remarks on
Shakespeare, 1783, p. 38. Since the quarto edition of MAR-
MIon appeared, this subject has received much elucidation from
the learned and extensive labours of Mr Douce.
Note IV.
Where my great-grandsire came of old,
With amber beard and flaren hair—P. 304.
Mr Scott of Harden, my kind and affectionate friend, and dis-
tant relation, has the original of a poetical invitation, addressed
from his grandfather to my relative, from which a few lines in
the text are imitated. They are dated, as the epistle in the
text, from Mertoun-house, the seat of the Harden family.


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. ciii
“With amber beard, and flaxen hair,
And reverend apostolic air,
Free of anxiety and care,
Come hither, Christmas-day, and dine ;
We'll mix sobriety with wine,
And easy mirth with thoughts divine.
We Christians think it holiday,
On it no sin to feast or play;
Others, in spite, may fast and pray.
No superstition in the use
Our ancestors made of a goose;
Why may not we, as well as they,
Be innocently blithe that day,
On goose or pye, on wine or ale,
And scorn enthusiastic zeal —
Pray come, and welcome, or plague rott
Your friend and landlord, Walter Scott.”
Mr Walter Scott, Lessudden,
The venerable old gentleman, to whom the lines are addres-
sed, was the younger brother of William Scott of Reaburn.
Being the cadet of a cadet of the Harden family, he had very
little to lose; yet he contrived to lose the small property he
had, by engaging in the civil wars and intrigues of the house of
Stuart. His veneration for the exiled family was so great, that
he swore he would not shave his beard till they were restored:
a mark of attachment, which, I suppose, had been common
during Cromwell's usurpation; for, in Cowley's “Cutter of
Coleman Street,” one drunken cavalier upbraids another, that,
when he was not able to afford to pay a barber, he affected to
“wear a beard for the king.” I sincerely hope this was not


civ NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH.
absolutely the original reason of my ancestor's beard; which,
as appears from a portrait in the possession of Sir Henry Hay
Macdougal, Bart, and another painted for the famous Dr Pit-
cairn,” was a beard of a most dignified and venerable appear-
ance.
Note V.
The spirit's blasted tree.—P. 307.
I am permitted to illustrate this passage, by inserting “Ceu-
bren yr Ellyll, or the Spirit's Blasted Tree,” a legendary tale,
by Mr George Warrington:
“The event, on which this tale is founded, is preserved by
tradition in the family of the Vaughans of Hengwyrt; nor is
it entirely lost, even among the common people, who still point
out this oak to the passenger. The enmity between the two
Welsh chieftains, Howel Sele, and Owen Glyndowr, was ex-
treme, and marked by vile treachery in the one, and ferocious
cruelty in the other.f The story is somewhat changed and
softened, as more favourable to the characters of the two chiefs,
and as better answering the purpose of poetry, by admitting the
passion of pity, and a greater degree of sentiment in the de-
* The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius.
By the favour of the late Earl of Kelly, descended on the mater-
mal side from Dr Pitcairn, my father became possessed of the
portrait in question.
+ The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in
Wales.


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cix
“Though worn by care, see Madoc here,
Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe;
Ah, let his name no anger raise,
For now that mighty Chief lies low :
“E'en from the day, when, chained by fate,
By wizzard's dream, or potent spell,
Lingering from sad Salopia's field,
*Reft of his aid the Percy fell.
“E’en from that day misfortune still,
As if for violated faith,
Pursued him with unwearied step;
Vindictive still for Hotspur's death.
“Wanquished at length, the Glyndwr fled
Where winds the Wye her devious flood;
To find a casual shelter there,
In some lone cot, or desert wood.
“Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise,
He gained by toil his scanty bread;
He who had Cambria's sceptre borne,
And her brave sons to glory led !
“To penury extreme, and grief,
The Chieftain fell a lingering prey;
I heard his last few faultering words,
Such as with pain I now convey.
“To Sele's sad widow bear the tale,
“Nor let our horrid secret rest;
* Give but his corse to sacred earth,
“Then may my parting soul be blest.”—


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxi
“ Glyndwr for once restrained his sword,
And, still averse, the fight delays;
But softened words, like oil to fire,
Made anger more intensely blaze. **
“They fought; and doubtful long the fray :
The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound !—
Still mournful must my tale proceed,
And it's last act all dreadful sound.
“How could we hope for wished retreat,
His eager vassals ranging wide :
His bloodhounds' keen sagacious scent,
O'er many a trackless mountain tried ?
“I marked a broad and Blasted Oak,
Scorched by the lightning's livid glare;
Hollow its stem from branch to root,
And all its shrivelled arms were bare.
“Be this, I cried, his proper grave —
(The thought in me was deadly sin.)
Aloft we raised the hapless Chief,
And dropped his bleeding corpse within.”
A shriek from all the damsels burst,
That pierced the vaulted roofs below ;
While horror-struck the Lady stood,
A living form of sculptured woe.
With stupid stare, and vacant gaze,
Full on his face her eyes were cast,
Absorbed l—she lost her present grief,
And faintly thought of things long past.


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxix
ing eastward, crossed the Till, with his van and artillery, at
Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-
guard column passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This
movement had the double effect of placing his army between
King James and his supplies from Scotland, and of striking the
Scottish monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on
the depth of the river in his front. But as the passage, both
over the bridge and through the ford, was difficult and slow, it
seems possible that the English might have been attacked to
great advantage while struggling with natural obstacles. I
know not if we are to impute James's forbearance, to want of
military skill, or to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie
puts in his mouth, “that he was determined to have his ene-
mies before him on a plain field,” and therefore would suffer
no interruption to be given, even by artillery, to their passing
the river. -
The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed
the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile
of Gothic architecture, as now rebuilded by Sir Francis Blake
Delaval, whose extensive plantations have so much improved
the country around. The glen is romantic and delightful, with
steep banks on each side, covered with copse, particularly with
hawthorn. Beneath a tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful
fountain, called St Helen's Well.
13


NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxiii
The spot, from which Clara views the battle, must be sup-
posed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the
English right wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict
Marmion is supposed to have fallen,
Note XVI.
Brian Tunstall, stainless knight.—P. 352.
Sir Brian Tunstall, called, in the romantic language of the
time, Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of
rank slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem,
to which I may safely refer my reader; as an edition, with full
explanatory notes, is about to be published by my friend Mr
Henry Weber. Tunstall perhaps derived his epithet of unde-
filed from his white armour and banner, the latter bearing a
white cock about to crow, as well as from his unstained loyalty
and knightly faith. His place of residence was Thurland
Castle. *
Note XVII.
View not that corpse mistrustfully,
I)efaced and mangled though it be ;
Nor to yon Border castle high
Look northward with upbraiding eye.—Pp. 370, 371.
There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of
Flodden. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette,
within a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey; and the same
account adds, that none of his division were made prisoners,


Notes To CANTo sixth. cxxw
tions. They produce a better evidence, the monarch's sword
and dagger, which are still preserved in the Herald's College in
London, Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the disgrace
with which the remains of the unfortunate monarch were
treated in his time.—An unhewn column marks the spot where
James fell, still called the King's Stone.
INote XVIII.
fanatic Brook
The fair cathedral stormed and took—P. 878.
This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garrisoned
on the part of the king, took place in the great civil war. Lord
Brook, who, with Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was
shot with a musket-ball through the visor of his helmet. The
royalists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St
Chad's Cathedral, and upon St Chad's day, and received his
death-wound in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped
to see the ruin of all the cathedrals in England. The magni-
ficent church in question suffered cruelly upon this, and other
occasions; the principal spire being ruined by the fire of the
besiegers.
Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention the fol-
lowing particulars:
The lines in page 128,
Whose doom contending neighbours sought,
Content with equity unbought,
7


cxxvi NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH.
have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's
beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton. The ballad of
Lochinvar, p. 258, is in a very slight degree founded on a ballad
called “ Katharine Janfarie,” which may be found in the
“Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.”
THE END.
-
EDINBURGH :
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.,