MARMION; 
 
 a Cale 
 
 OF FLODDEN FIELD. 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 
 
 Ah& ! 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. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED BY J. BALLANTYNE AND CO. 
 FX)R ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH ; 
 
 AND 
 
 WILLIAM MILLER, AND JOHN MURRAY, LONDON. 
 1808. 
 
TO 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 HENRY, 
 
 LORD MONTAGU, 
 
 S)C. S^'c. S^c. 
 THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It is hardly to he expected, that an Author, whom the Pub- 
 lic has honoured with some degree of applause, should not be 
 again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author o/'Mar- 
 MION must be supposed to feel some anxiety concerning its suc- 
 cess, since he is sensible that he hazards, by this second intru- 
 sion, any reputation which hisfrst Poem may have procured him. 
 The present Story turns upon the private adventures of a fcti- 
 tious 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 design of the Author was, if pos- 
 sible, 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 Minstrel, that an attempt to paint the man- 
 ners of the feudal times, upon a broader scale, and in the course 
 of a more interesting story, will not be unacceptable to the Pub- 
 lic. 
 
 The Poem opens about the commencement of August, and 
 concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 4>th September, 1513. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Introduction to Canto First To William Stewakt Rose, Esq. 1 
 
 CANTO I. The Castle, 21 
 
 Introduction to Canto Second To the Rev. John Makbiot, M.A. 57 
 
 II. The Convent, 15 
 
 Introduction to Canto TJiird To William Eeskine, Esq 115 
 
 III. The Hostel, or Inn, 131 
 
 Introduction to Canto Fourth To James Skene, Esq l69 
 
 IV. The Camp, 183 
 
 Introduction to Canto Fifth To George Ellis, Esq 225 
 
 V. The Court, 239 
 
 Introduction to Canto Sixth To Richard Heber, Esq 297 
 
 VI. The Battle, 313 
 
 Notes to Canto First i 
 
 Canto Second xxxiii 
 
 Canto Third Iv 
 
 Ca?ito Fourth Ixv 
 
 Canto Fifth Ixxix 
 
 Canto Siith xcix 
 
MARMION. 
 
 Jnttonuctlon to Canto jTitst. 
 
TO 
 
 WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esq. 
 
 Ashestiel, Ettricke 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, mij^fmuring 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 Yair. 
 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. 
 
 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 blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray? 
 
 Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower 
 Again shall paint your summer bower ; 
 
e INTRODUCTION 
 
 Again the hawthorn shall supply 
 The garlands you delight to tie ; 
 The lambs upon the lea shall hound. 
 The wild birds carol to the round, 
 And while you frolick 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 ; 
 
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, Hafnia, '^ Trafalgar ; 
 
 * Copenhagen. 
 
8 liNTRODUCTION 
 
 Who, }3orn 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 freeman'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 unpolluted church remains. 
 Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around 
 The bloody tocsin's maddening sound. 
 
10 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. 
 Lest it 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 ! 
 
 11 
 
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 marhle in its trust 
 Of two such wonderous men the dust. 
 
 With more than mortal powers endowed, 
 How high they soared ahove 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 CAiNTO 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 asren ?" 
 
 ' 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 rhime : 
 His Gothic harp has o'er you rung ; 
 The bard you deigned to praise, your death- 
 less 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. i» 
 
 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, 
 
V 
 
 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 
 
TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 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 Dry den, in immortal strain. 
 Had raised the Table Round again, 
 
 c 
 
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 mar- 
 red 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, Chiv airy, hath slept : 
 There sound the harpings of the North, 
 Till he awake and sally forth. 
 
TO CANTO FIRST. 19 
 
 On venturous quest to prick again, 
 
 In all his arms, with all his train. 
 
 Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf, 
 
 Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwarf. 
 
 And wizard with his wand of might. 
 
 And errant maid on palfrey white. 
 
 Around the Genius weave their spells. 
 
 Pure Love, Avho scarce his passion tells ; 
 
 Mystery, half veiled and half revealed ; 
 
 And Honour, with his spotless shield ; 
 
 Attention, with fixed eye ; and Fear, 
 
 That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 
 
 And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
 
 Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; 
 
 And Valour, lion-mettled lord. 
 
 Leaning upon his own good sword. 
 
 Well has thy fair achievement shown, 
 A worthy meed may thus be won ; 
 
20 INTRODUCTION, &c. 
 
 Ytene's "" oaks-=-beneatli whose shade. 
 
 Their theme the merry minstrels made, 
 
 Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold. 
 
 And that Red King, ^ who, while of old 
 
 Through Boldrewood 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. 
 •> William Rufus. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 C&e Castle^ 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 C6e Cajattle* 
 
 Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
 And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 
 
 And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
 The battled tow^ers, the Donjon Keep, 
 The loop-hole grates where captives weep, 
 The flanking walls that round it sweep, 
 
 In yellow lustre shone. 
 
£4 MARMION. CANTO i. 
 
 The warriors on the turrets high, 
 Moving athwart the evening sky, 
 
 Seemed forms of giant height : 
 Their armour, as it caught the rays, 
 Flashed back again the western blaze. 
 
 In lines of dazzling light. 
 
 11. 
 
 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, t 
 
 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 I. 
 
 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 ap- 
 plied, by analogy, to a body of horse. 
 
 There is a Knight of the North Country, 
 Which leads a lusty plump of spears. 
 
 Battle ofFlodden. 
 
26 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 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 un sparred. 
 
 And let the draw-bridge fall. 
 
 V. 
 
 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 niight 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 Bos worth 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. canto 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." 
 
 Bhie was the charger's broidered rein ; 
 
 Blue ribbons decked his arching mane ; 
 
 The knightly housing's ample fold 
 
 Was velvet blue, and trapped with gold, 
 
 VII. 
 
 Behind him rode two gallant squires. 
 Of noble name, and knightly sires ; 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 THE CASTLE. 29 
 
 Tliey 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. 
 
30 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 boar-spear 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. 
 
CAKTO I. THE CASTLE. 31 
 
 With miisquet, 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. 
 
 " Welcome to Norham, Marmion, 
 
 Stout heart, and open hand ! 
 Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 
 
 Thou flower of English land." — 
 
 XI. 
 
 Two pursuivants, whom 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 Tam worth tower and town ; 
 And he, their courtesy to requite. 
 Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight. 
 
 All as he lighted down. 
 
CANTO I. THE CASTLE. SS 
 
 " Now largesse, largesse, "" Lord Marmion, 
 
 Knight of the crest of gold ! 
 A blazon'd shield, in battle won. 
 
 Ne'er guarded heart so bold." — 
 
 XIL 
 
 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. 
 
 £ 
 
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 ; 
 And 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 !" — 
 
 XHI. 
 
 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. 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 THE CASTLE. S5 
 
 And placed him in the upper place — 
 
 They feasted full and high : 
 The whiles a Northern harper rude 
 Chaunted a rhime of deadly feud, 
 
 " How thejierce Thirwalls, and Ridley s all, 
 Stout Willimondswick, 
 And Hard-riding Dick, 
 And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, 
 Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, 
 And tahen his life at the Deadman s-shaw ." — * 
 Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook 
 
 The harper's barbarous lay ; 
 Yet much he praised the pains he took, 
 And well those pains did pay : 
 For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain. 
 By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *' Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, 
 " Of your fair courtesy, 
 
 * The rest of this old ballad may be found in the note. 
 
36 MARMION. ' CANTO i. 
 
 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 such neighbours near : 
 Then stay with us a little space. 
 
 Our northern wars to learn ; 
 I pray you for your lady's grace." — 
 
 Lord Marmions 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. 
 
CANTO I. THE CASTLE. S7 
 
 " 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 ! 
 
CANTO 1. 
 
 38 MARMION. 
 
 Say, hast thou given that lovely youth 
 
 To serve in lady's bowser ? 
 Or w^as the gentle page, in sooth, 
 
 A gentle paramour ?" — 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest ; 
 
 He roU'd his kindling eye, 
 With pain his rising wrath suppressed, 
 
 Yet made a calm reply : 
 " That boy thou though t'st so goodly fair. 
 
 He might not brook the northern air. 
 More of his fate if thou vrould'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 
 
 He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 
 Whispered light tales of Heron's dame. 
 
 XVHI. 
 
 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 bowser. 
 We hold bur 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. CANTO I. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " 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." — 
 
 XX. 
 
 " 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 vs^ives of Greenlaw's goods. 
 And given them light to set their hoods." — - 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, 
 
 <e 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 : 
 
 F 
 
42 MARMION. CANTO 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." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 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. 
 
 5 
 
( ANTO 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 stah, or brawl. 
 
 Friar John of Tillmoutli 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 tlie 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. CANTO J. 
 
 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."- 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 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 1. THE CASTLE. 45 
 
 And snow comes thick at Christmass 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 loss 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." 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " 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 ; 
 
40" M ARM ION. CANTO i. 
 
 On hills of Armenie hath been, 
 Where INoah'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. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 '' To stout Saint George of Norwich merry^ 
 Saint Thomas, too, of Canterl)ury, 
 Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, 
 For his sins' pardon hath he prayed. 
 
CANTO I. THE CASTLE. 47 
 
 He knows the passes of the North, 
 And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 
 Little he eats, and long will wake. 
 And drinks but of the stream or lake. 
 This were a guide o'er moor and dale ; 
 But, when our John hath quaffed his ale. 
 As little as the wind that blows. 
 And warms itself against his nose, 
 Kens he, or cares, which way he goes. " — 
 
 XXVI. 
 '' Gramercy," quoth Lord Marmion, 
 " Full loth were I, that Friar John, 
 That venerable man, for me, 
 Were placed in fear, or jeopardy : 
 If this same Palmer will me lead 
 
 From hence to Holy Rood, 
 Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed. 
 Instead of cockle-shell, or beftd. 
 With angels fair and good. 
 
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 least. 
 
 They bring to cheer the way."^ — 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " 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. 
 
CANTO I. 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." — 
 
 XXVHI. 
 
 " — 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 ; 
 
 6 
 
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. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 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 was worn with toil ; 
 His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! 
 
CANTO I. THE CASTLE. 51 
 
 And when he straggled 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. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
 The Palmer took on him the task. 
 
53 Mx\RMION. CANTO I. 
 
 So he would marfch with morniDg 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 !" — 
 
 XXXL 
 
 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 bye. 
 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 ill the castle nought was heard. 
 
 But the slow footstep of the guard. 
 Pacing his sober round. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 
 And first the chapel doors unclose ; 
 
54 MARMION, CANTO 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 bugle 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. 
 
 END OF CANTO FIRST. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 3Inttotiuction to Canto %econD. 
 
[ 59 1 
 
 TO 
 
 THE REV. JOHN HARRIOT, 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 narrow 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. 
 
 " 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 ; 
 
 * Mountaia-ash, 
 
TO CANTO SECOND. 6l 
 
 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 vassals 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 falc'ners hold the ready hawk ; 
 
 And foresters, in green-wood trim. 
 
 Lead in the leash the sraze-hounds sfrim. 
 
 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. 
 
e« 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, dear Marriot, 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. 03 
 
 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-Sherifi"s lonely chace, 
 
64 INTRODUCTION 
 
 And ape, in manly step and tone, 
 The majesty of Oberon : 
 And she is gone, whose lovely face 
 Is but her least and lowest 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. 
 
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. 69 
 
 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 Dry hope's ruined tower. 
 And think on Yarrow's faded Flower ; 
 
r<i 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. 71 
 
 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 : 
 
n 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 Locliskene. 
 
 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. 
 
 Harriot, 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. 
 
 K 
 
MARMION, 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Cfce Conioent. 
 
[ " ] 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 
 C6e Contoent. 
 
 I. 
 
 The breeze, which swept away the smoke, 
 
 Round Norham Castle rolled ; 
 When all the loud artillery spoke. 
 With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, 
 
 As Marmion left the Hold. 
 It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze ; 
 For, far upon Northumbrian seas. 
 
 It freshly blew, and strong. 
 
78 MARMION. canto n. 
 
 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 nuns, 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. 
 
 10 
 
CANTO 11. 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. 
 
so MARMTON. CANTO ii. 
 
 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; 
 
CANTO 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 fomid rest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
 Reformed on Benedictine school ; 
 Her cheek was pale, her form was spare : 
 Vigils, and penitence austere. 
 Had earlv quenched the light of youth, 
 But gentle was the dame in sooth j 
 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, 
 
 L 
 
82 MARMION. CANTO n. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
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 
 
84 MARMTON. CANTO n. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 And jealousy, 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. 
 
 VHI. 
 
 And now the vessel skirts the strand 
 Of mountainous Northumberland ; 
 Towns, towers, and halls successive rise, 
 And catch the nuns' delighted eyes. 
 
CANTO 11. THE CONVENT. 85 
 
 Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay. 
 
 And TynemoiUh'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 there. 
 
 King Ida's castle, huge and square, 
 
 From its tall rock look grimly down. 
 
 And on the swelling ocean frown ; 
 
so 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. 
 
«ANTo II. THE CONVENT. 87 
 
 X. 
 
 Ill Saxon strength that Ahbey frowned, 
 With massive arches broad and round. 
 
 That rose alternate, row and row. 
 
 On ponderous cohimns, 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. CANTO 11. 
 
 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. 
 
 XL 
 
 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. 's(j 
 
 From Cuthbert's cloisters m-im : 
 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 : 
 
 M 
 
go MARMION. canto ii. 
 
 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 loss of sylvan game, 
 
 Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." 
 
CANTO II. THE CONVENT. 91 
 
 " This, on Ascension-clay, 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 ; 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 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 ; 
 
CANTO 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 a. 
 
 '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 iishers 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. ~ 93 
 
 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 ii. 
 
 'Twas now a place of punishment ; 
 Where, 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, 
 Did 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 ; ' 
 
CANTO II. THE CONVENT. y 
 
 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. 
 N 
 
gS MARMION. CANTO ii. 
 
 Id 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. 
 
 10 
 
CANTO n. THE CONVENT. < 
 
 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. 
 Sister professed of Fontevraud, 
 
100 MARMION. CANTO 11. 
 
 Whom the church numbered with the dead. 
 For broken vows, and convent fled. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 When thus her face was given to view, 
 
 (Altliough so pallid was her hue. 
 
 It did a ghastly contrast bear. 
 
 To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) 
 
 Her look composed, and steady eye. 
 
 Bespoke 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. 
 
CANTO H. THE CONVENT. loi 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Her comrade was a sordid soul, 
 
 Such as does murther 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 njghts 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. 
 
102 MARMION. CANTO ii. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 These executioners were chose. 
 
 As men who were with mankind foes. 
 
CANTO 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 ; 
 
lOi 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 shp 
 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 n. THE CONVENT. 105 
 
 Like that left on the Cheviot peak, 
 
 By Autumn's stormy sky ; 
 And when her silence broke at length, 
 Still as she spoke, she gathered strengthj 
 
 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. 
 
 Vain are vour masses too. — 
 
 ft/ 
 
 I listened to a traitor's tale, 
 I left the convent and the veil, 
 
 o 
 
106 MARMION. canto ii. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXVHI. 
 
 " The king approved his favourite's aim ; 
 In vain a rival barred his claim. 
 
 Whose faith with Clare's was plight, 
 
 8 
 
CANTO II. THE CONVENT. 107 
 
 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 !" 
 Say ye, 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. oanto n. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Still was false Marmion's bridal staid ; 
 To Whitby's convent fled the maid. 
 
 The hated match to shun. 
 * Ho ! shifts she thus V 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 n. 
 
 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." — 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 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. lU 
 
 Gazed on the light mspired form. 
 And listened for the avenging storm ; 
 The judges felt the victim's dread, 
 No hand was moved, no w^ord w^as said, 
 Till thus the Abbot's doom w^as 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 ; 
 
112 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, 
 
CANTO 11. 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. 
 
 END OF CANTO SECOND. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 3Introtiuction to Canto C&irD. 
 
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 voice 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 hreeze 
 
 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 rhime. 
 To thy kind judgment seemed excuse 
 For many an error of the muse ; 
 
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 rhime ? 
 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, — 
 
12a INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 couldst not live to see her beam 
 For ever quenched in Jena's stream- 
 Lamented chief ! — it vras 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 ; 
 
 3 
 
TO CANTO THIRD. 121 
 
 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 honovired 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 ^rim Turk besmeared with blood, 
 Against the Invincible made good ; 
 Or that whose thundering voice could wake 
 The silence of the polar lake, 
 
 Q 
 
122 INTRODUCTION 
 
 When stubborn Riiss, 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 pale 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 ; 
 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 Hows ; 
 
 Ask, if it would content him well, 
 
 At ease in these gay plains to dwell. 
 
 Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen. 
 
 And spires and forests intervene. 
 
 And the neat cottage peeps between? 
 
 No, not for these will he exchange 
 
 His dark Lochaber's boundless range. 
 
TO CANTO THIRD. 125 
 
 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 he, 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 sun 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. 127 
 
 Methouglit 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 ;nimic 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. 
 
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. 
 
 B, 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Cbe^ogtel, or 3lnn, 
 
C iss 3 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Cfje ^ogtel, ot 3[nn» 
 
 I. 
 
 Ihe 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 foray ers were abroad. 
 Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey. 
 Had scarcely failed to bar their way. 
 
134 MARMION. CANTO III. 
 
 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 Gifi^ard'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, 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 135 
 
 Dreaded her castle to unclose, 
 So late, to unknown friends or foes. 
 On through the hamlet as they paced. 
 Before a porch, whose front was graced 
 With bush and flaggon trimly placed. 
 
 Lord Marmion drew his rein : 
 The village inn seemed large, though rude ; 
 Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
 Might well relieve his train. 
 Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 
 With jingling spurs the court-yard rung ; 
 They bend 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. 
 
 Soon by the chimney's merry blaze. 
 Through the rude hostel might you gaze ; 
 
136 MARMION. CANTO m. 
 
 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 
 
 IV. 
 
 Theirs was the glee of martial breast, 
 
 And laughter theirs 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. 
 « 
 
 V. 
 
 Resting upon his pilgrim staff*, 
 Right opposite the Palmer stood ; 
 
 s 
 
138 MARMION. CANTO iii. 
 
 His thill dark visage seen 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 ! saw'st thou ere such sight ? 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. isy 
 
 How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
 Wliene'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 quell'd 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." 
 
 VITI. 
 
 '' So please you," thus the youth rejoined, 
 " Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 
 
UO MARMION. CANTO in. 
 
 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 deep and mellow voice he had. 
 The air he chose was wild and sad ; 
 Such have I heard, in Scottish land. 
 Rise from the busy harvest band, 
 
CANTO m. 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. 
 
 Where shall the lover rest. 
 
 Whom the fates sever 
 From his true maiden's breast. 
 
 Parted for ever? 
 
142 MAKMION. CANTO III. 
 
 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, > 
 Kever again to wake. 
 Never, O never. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Where shall the traitor rest. 
 He, the deceiver^ 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. US 
 
 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. 
 
 Ehu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. 
 
 Her wing shall the eagle flap, 
 
 Oer 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, never. 
 
144 MARMION. canto hi. 
 
 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 ! 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. I« 
 
 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 f«el ; 
 Even vv^hile 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; 
 
 T 
 
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 vail their eyes 
 
 Before their meanest slave. 
 
 XV. 
 Well might he faulter ! — by his aid 
 Was Constance Beverley betrayed ; 
 
CANTO 111. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. U7 
 
 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 m. 
 
 Woe to the vassal, who durst pry 
 Into Lord Mansion'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 terror mute. 
 Dreading alike escape, pursuit, 
 Till love, victorious o'er alarms. 
 Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 
 
CANTO in. 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 1 the cause I — 
 
150 MARMION. CANTO in. 
 
 Vigil and scourge — perchance even worse !" — 
 And twice he rose to cry " to horse !" 
 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, 
 
 Fidl often learn the art to know, 
 
 Of future weal, or future woe, 
 By word, or sign, or star ; 
 
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. 
 
 C&e ^O0t'i3 Cale. 
 
 " A clerk could tell w^hat years have flovv^n 
 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. 
 
15S MARMION. canto hi. 
 
 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 ; 
 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. 
 
 ^ XX. 
 " 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 ; 
 
 10 
 
CANTO 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 Gilford, 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 Pharoah'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, 
 
 XT 
 
154 MARMION. * CANTO ni. 
 
 Bore many a planetary sign, 
 Combust, and retrogade, and trine ; 
 And in liis hand he held prepared, 
 A naked sword without a guard. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Dire dealings with the fiendish race 
 Had marked strange lines upon his face ; 
 Vigil, and fast, had worn him grim. 
 His eyesight dazzled seemed, and dim, 
 As one unused to upper day ; 
 Even his own menials with dismay 
 Beheld, Sir Knight, the griesly sire. 
 In this unwonted wild attire ; 
 Unwonted, for traditions run. 
 He seldom thus beheld the sun. 
 " I know," he said, — his voice was hoarse. 
 And broken seemed its hollow force, — 
 " I know the cause, although untold. 
 Why the king seeks his vassal's hold ; 
 
GANTo III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 155 
 
 f 
 
 Vainly from me my liege would know 
 His kingdom's future weal or woe ; 
 But yet, if strong Kis arm and heart, 
 His courage may do more than art. 
 
 xxn. 
 
 '^^ Of middle air the demons proud, 
 
 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 hi. 
 
 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 : 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 157 
 
 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 thee in the strife, 
 I am no warrant for thy life." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Soon as the midnight bell did ring. 
 Alone, and armed, rode forth the king- 
 To that old ramp'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 in. 
 
 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 oar 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 holy war : 
 Yet arms bke 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. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The vision made our monarch start. 
 But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 
 
 * Edward I., surnamed Longshanks. 
 
CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 169 
 
 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; 
 
Ifia MARMION. CANT0 11!. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The joyful king turned home again. 
 Headed his host, and quelfd 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! 
 
 19 
 
CANTO HI. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. i()l 
 
 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." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 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. 
 
 X 
 
162 MARMION. canto in. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Apart, and nestling in the hay 
 Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay ; 
 Scarce, by the pale moonlight, was seen 
 The foldings of his maijtle 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 ; 
 
e( 
 
 CANTO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 163 
 
 But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
 His master Marmion's voice he knew. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Fitz-Eustace ! 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. CANTO in. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " 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 weight forlorn ; 
 The flattering chaplain's all agree. 
 The champion left his steed to me : 
 I would, the omen's truth to show, t 
 
 That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 
 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. 
 
CANTO 111. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 163 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, 
 And marked him pace the village road, 
 
 And listened to his horse's tramp, 
 Till, by the lessening sound. 
 
 He judged 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 silence 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. canto iu. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 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^ 
 
 12 
 
CANTO 111. 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 blithly mark 
 The first notes of the morning lark. 
 
 END OF CANTO THIRD. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 3!nttotiuction to Canto jFouttb« 
 
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. 173 
 
 That now, Novembers 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 ; 
 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. 
 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-flower 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 warnings 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. 175 
 
 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 isicles ; 
 
 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 fifiil. 
 
 Benumbing death is in the gale ; 
 
 His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 
 
 Close to the hut, no more his own, 
 
176 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Close to the aid he sought in vain, 
 The morn may find the stifFen'd swain : 
 His widow sees, at dawning pale, 
 His orphans raise their feeble wail ; 
 And, close beside him, in the snow, 
 Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe. 
 Couches upon his master's breast. 
 And licks his cheek, to break his rest. 
 
 Who envies now the shepherd's lot. 
 His healthy fare, his rural cot. 
 His summer couch by greenwood tree. 
 His rustic kirn's" loud revelry. 
 His native hill-notes, tuned on high. 
 To Marion of the blithesome eye ; 
 His crook, his scrip, his oaten reed. 
 And all Arcadia's golden creed. 
 
 Changes not so with us, my Skene, 
 Of human life the varying scene ? 
 
 ^ The Scottish harvesUhome. 
 
 10 
 
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 of Troy, 
 His manhood spent in peace and joy ; 
 But Grecian fires, and loud alarms. 
 Called ancient Pi'iam 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, 
 
 z 
 
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 honoured urn. 
 Shall friends alone, and kindred mourn ; 
 The thousand eyes his care had dried. 
 Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 
 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.' 
 
TO CANTO FOURTH. 179 
 
 Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 
 My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 
 For sacred Avas the pen that ^vrote, 
 " 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 ought 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. 
 
laa 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, ycleped the White. 
 At cither's feet a trusty squire, 
 Pandour and Camp, with eyes of fire, 
 Jealous, each others motions viewed. 
 And scarce suppressed their ancient feud. 
 The laverock whistled from the cloud ; 
 The stream was lively, but not loud ; 
 From the white-thorn the May-flower shed 
 Its dewy fragrance round our head : 
 Not Ariel lived more merrily 
 Under the blossom'd bough, than we. 
 
 And blithsome nights, too, have been ours, 
 When Winter stript the summer's bowers ; 
 Careless we heard, what now I hear. 
 The wild blast sighing deep and drear. 
 
TO CANTO FOURTH. 181 
 
 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 1, 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. 
 
 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 Kwg Lear. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 C|)e Camp. 
 
[ 185 ] 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Cfje Camp. 
 
 I. 
 
 liiusTACE, I said, did blithely mark 
 The first notes of the merry lark. 
 The lark sung shrill, the cock he crew. 
 And loudly Marmion's clarions 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. 
 
 2 A 
 
136 MARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 Some clamoured loud for armour lost; 
 Some brawled and wrangled with the host ; 
 " By Becket's bones," cried one, " I swear. 
 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 Blount! 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 
 
 11 
 
CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 187 
 
 Better we had throiiffh mire aDd bush 
 
 '»■ 
 
 Been lanthorn-led by Friar Rush." '^ 
 
 IL 
 
 Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guessed. 
 
 Nor wholly understood, 
 His comrades clamourous plaints suppressed ; 
 
 He kncAV 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. canto iv. 
 
 III. 
 
 Young Henry Blount meanwhile the cost 
 Had reckoned with their Scottish host ; 
 And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
 " III 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." — 
 
CANTO IV. 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 j^reak a spear. 
 
 Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells ; 
 
 And oft, in such, the story tells. 
 
190 MARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 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, — hut spoke in vain. 
 
 For Marmion answered nought again. 
 
 V. 
 
 Now sudden distant trumpets shrill. 
 In notes prolonged by wood and hill, 
 
 Were heard to echo far ; 
 Each ready archer grasped his how, 
 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, 
 
CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 191 
 
 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. 
 
 VI. 
 
 First came the trumpets, at whose clang- 
 So late the forest echoes rang ; 
 On prancing steeds they forward pressed, 
 AVith 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. 
 
iga MARMION. canto if. 
 
 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 j 
 His cap of maintenance was graced 
 
 With the proud heron-plume. 
 
SANTO IV. 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 tress ure 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 ! 
 
 2 B 
 
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 gave 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. IQ3 
 
 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 w^as 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, 
 
igfi 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, 
 
CANTO IV. 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 thv ruined stair. 
 Still rises unimpaired below. 
 The court-yard's graceful portico ; 
 Above its cornice, row and row, 
 Of fair 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. 
 
198 MARMION. , canto iv. 
 
 The darkness of thy Massy More ; ^ 
 
 Or, from thy grass-grown battlement. 
 May trace, m 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. 
 
CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 199 
 
 Earl Adam Hepburn, — lie 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. 
 
 XIIL 
 
 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 ; 
 
200 MARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 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 vaiq 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. 
 %it DatiiD linDesiap's Cale» 
 Of all the palaces so fair. 
 
 Built for the royal dwelling, 
 In Scotland, far beyond compare 
 Linlithgow is excelling ; 
 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. 
 
 V 
 
 2 c 
 
202 MARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 The princely boy against liis 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. oqs 
 
 I too was there, ^nd, 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 dreamins;. 
 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. 
 
304 MAPtMION. 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. 
 
KANTO IV. THE CAMP. 205 
 
 The Marshal and myself had cast 
 To stop him, as he outward past ; 
 But lighter than the whirlwind's hlast 
 
 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, 
 
•06 MARMION. canto it. ' 
 
 And made me credit aught." — He staid. 
 And seemed to wish his Avords 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, 
 
eANTO ir. 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 aflPray, 
 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, 
 Mv hand so shook for very fear, 
 
 I scarce could couch it right. 
 
 XXL 
 
 '* 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. 
 
CANTO lY, THE CAMP. iOy 
 
 Full on his face the moonbeam strook, — 
 A face could never be mistook ! 
 I knew the stern vindictive look, 
 
 And held my breath for awe. 
 I saw the face of one who, fled 
 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. — 
 
 2 D 
 
2 to MARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 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, 
 
CANTO IV. THE CAMP. ti I 
 
 Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade. 
 Or where the sable pine-trees shade 
 Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid^ 
 
 Dromonohty, 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 spectre called Uiam- 
 dearg, or Bloodj-handj in a note on Canto IV. 
 
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, 
 JLies 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 IV. 
 
 THE CAMP. 213 
 
 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 steeple jangling 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 l)ent so brown : 
 
 Thousand pavilions, white as snow. 
 
 Spread all the Borough-moor below. 
 
ai4 MARMION. CANTO IV. 
 
 Upland, and dale, and down : — 
 A thousand did I say ? 1 ween, 
 Thousands on thousands there ^vere seen, 
 That chequered all the heath hetween 
 
 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, 
 
 Aud 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. 2l5 
 
 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, 
 
 B}'" sluggish oxen tugged to war ; 
 
 And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,'* 
 
 By France's king to Scotland given. 
 
 * Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borlhwick. 
 
aiG INIARMION. CANTO iv. 
 
 Ill-omened gift ! 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 staft„ 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 en- 
 titled to display them. 
 
CANTO 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> 
 
 2 E 
 
ai8 MARMION. CANTO IV. 
 
 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. 
 
«ANTOiv. THE CAMP. 2\9 
 
 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 islands on its bosom float. 
 Like emeralds chased in gold. 
 Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent; 
 As if to give his rapture vent. 
 The spur he to his charger lent. 
 
 And raised his bridle-hand. 
 
220 MARMION. GANTO IV. 
 
 And, making demi-volte in air, 
 
 Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare 
 
 To fio-ht for such a land !" 
 The Lion smiled his 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 Lion 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, 
 To think what woe mischance may bring, 
 And how these merry bells may ring 
 The death-dirge of our gallant King, 
 
222 MAPiMION. CANTO IV. 
 
 Or, with their larum, call 
 The burghers forth to watch and ward, 
 'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard 
 
 Dun-Edin's leagnered wall. — 
 But not, for my presaging thought, 
 Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought ! 
 
 Lord Marmion, I say nay: — 
 God is the guider of the field. 
 He breaks the champion's spear and shield, — 
 
 But thou thyself shalt say. 
 When joins yon host in deadly stow re, 
 That England's dames must weep in bower, 
 
 Her monks the death-mass sing ; 
 For never saw'st thou such a power 
 
 Led on by such a King." 
 And now, down winding to the plain, 
 The barriers of the camp they gain. 
 
 And there they made a stay. — 
 There stays the Minstrel, till he fling 
 His hand o'er every Border string. 
 
CANTO IV. THE CAMP. 223 
 
 And fit his harp the pomp to sing, 
 Of Scotland's ancient Court and Kin 2*, 
 In the succeeding lav. 
 
 END OF CANTO FOURTH. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 3ntroriuction to Canto jFift&« 
 
 9 F 
 
C 227 ] 
 
 TO 
 
 GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. 
 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 \v HEN 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 ; 
 
223 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 jto bring 
 The needful water from the spring ; 
 When wrinkled news-page, thrice con'd o'er. 
 Beguiles the dreary hour no more. 
 And darkling politician, crossed. 
 Inveighs against the lingering post. 
 And answering house-wife sore complains 
 Of carrier's snow-impeded wains : 
 When such the country cheer, I come 
 Well pleased to seek our city home ; 
 For converse, aad for books, to change 
 The Forest's melancholy range, 
 
TO CANTO FIFTH. 229 
 
 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 INTRODUCTION 
 
 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 w^as 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. asi 
 
 What time she was Malbecco's guest, * 
 She gave to flow her maiden vest ; 
 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. 
 But looking liked, and liking loved.*" 
 The sight could jealous pangs beguile. 
 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 
 Thv burghers rose to man thy wall. 
 Than now, in danger, shall be thine. 
 Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 
 For fosse ^nd turret proud to stand. 
 Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. 
 Thy thousands, trained to martial toil. 
 Full red would stain their native soil, 
 
 10 
 
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, 
 
 2 G 
 
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 invadino- men. — 
 
 Who loves not more the night of June 
 
 Than dull December's irloomv noon ? 
 
 & 
 
 'y 
 
 The moonlight than the fog of frost? 
 And can w^e 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. 
 
 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 whig, 
 
 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 Ellis ! 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 ! 
 
2S6 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. 23? 
 
 Irregularly traced and planned. 
 But yet so glowing and so grand ; 
 So shall he strive, in changeful hue. 
 Field, feast, and combat, to renew. 
 And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee. 
 And all the pomp of chivalry. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Cfje Court. 
 
C 241 3 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Ctje Court* 
 
 1 HE train has left the hills of Braid ; 
 The barrier guard have open made, 
 (So Lindesay bade,) the palisade. 
 
 That closed the tented ground, 
 And carried pikes as they rode through. 
 
 Into its ample bound. 
 Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
 Upon the Southern band to stare ; 
 
 2 H 
 
243 MARMION. CANTO V. 
 
 And envy with their wonder rose, 
 To see such well-appointed foes ; 
 Such length of shafts, such mighty bows. 
 So huge, that many simply thought, 
 But for a vaunt such weapons vrrought ; 
 And little deemed their force to feel 
 
 « 
 
 Through links of mail, and plates of steel, 
 When, rattling upon Flodden vale. 
 The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. 
 
 11. 
 
 Nor less did Marmion's skilful view 
 Glance every line and squadron through ; 
 And much he marvelled one small land 
 Could marshal forth such various band : 
 
 For men-at-arms were here, 
 Heavily sheathed in mail and plate. 
 Like iron towers for strength and weight, 
 On Flemish steeds of bone and height, 
 
 With battle-axe and spear. 
 
CANTO V. 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 briaht ; 
 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. CANTO V. 
 
 III. 
 
 On foot the yeoman too, but dressed 
 In his steel jack, 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 cross-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. 
 
eANTo V. THE COURT. SAS 
 
 In eager mood to battle camej 
 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 ; 
 
(>46 MARMION. canto v. 
 
 Joyful to fight they took their way. 
 Scarce caring who might win the clay, 
 
 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 fi^rm 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 fair ! 
 That fangless Lion, too, their guide. 
 Might chance to lose his glistering hide ; 
 Brown Maudlin of that doublet pied. 
 Could make a kirtle rare." 
 
«ANTo V. THE COURT, 247 
 
 V. 
 
 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; 
 
248 MARMION. CANTO v. 
 
 A broad-sword of unwieldy length ; 
 
 A dagger, proved for edge and strength ; 
 
 A studded targe they wore, 
 And quivers, bows, and shafts, — 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 betwnxt, 
 
 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. 
 
 IX 
 
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 armourers' 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. — ■ 
 
 ' Following — Feudal Retainers. 
 
 2 I 
 
250 MARMION. CANTO V, 
 
 The Lion led to lodging meet, 
 
 Which high o'erlooked the crowded street ; 
 
 There must the Baron rest, 
 Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
 And then to Holy-Rood must ri,de, — 
 
 Such was the King's behest. 
 Meanwhile the Lion's eare assigns 
 A banquet rich, and costly wines. 
 
 To Marmion and his train. 
 The Baron donned his peaceful weeds, 
 And following Lindesay as he leads, 
 
 The palace-halls they gain. 
 
 vn. 
 
 Old Holy-Rood rung merrily. 
 That night, with wassel, game, 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. 
 
 10 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. 231 
 
 Well loved that splendid monarch aye 
 
 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 
 
252 MARMION. canto v. 
 
 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 ; ^ 
 
OANTO V. THE COURT. 253 
 
 His gorgeous collar hung adowii, 
 Bearing 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 Avas middle size ; 
 For feat of strength, or exercise. 
 
 Shaped in proportion fair ; 
 And hazel 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; 
 
«54 MARMION. canto v. 
 
 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 object of affright 
 Startles the courser in his flight, [ 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. 255 
 
 And half he halts, half springs aside, 
 But feels the quickening spur applied, 
 And, straining on the tightened rein. 
 Scours douhly swift o'er hill and plain. 
 
 X. 
 
 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 marcli three miles on English land. 
 And bid the banners of his band 
 
 In Eno^lish 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 ! 
 
 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, inLithgow's bower. 
 All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 
 
 XL 
 
 The queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 
 And weeps the weary day, 
 • The war against her native soil. 
 
CANTO y. THE COURT. 957 
 
 Her monarch's risk in battle broil ; — 
 And in gay Holy-Rood the while 
 Dame Heron rises with a smile 
 
 Upon the harp to play. 
 Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er 
 
 The strings her fingers flew ; 
 And as she touched, and tuned them all. 
 Ever her bosom's rise and fall 
 
 Was plainer given to view ; 
 For, all for heat, was laid aside 
 Her wimple, and her hood untied. 
 And first she pitched her voice to sing, 
 Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
 And then around the silent ring ; 
 And laughed, and blushed, and oft did say 
 Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, 
 She could not, would not, durst not play ! 
 At length, upon the harp, with glee. 
 Mingled with arch simplicity, 
 A soft, yet lively, air she rung. 
 While thus the wily lady sung. 
 
 2 K 
 
258 MARMION, canto v. 
 
 XII. 
 
 LOCHINVAR. 
 
 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 theEske 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 w^ar. 
 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 : 
 
 . 10 
 
TANTo V. ' THE COURT. 259 
 
 Then spoke the bride's father, liis 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, young Lord Lochinvar ?' 
 
 " I long w ooed 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. CANTO v. 
 
 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 Lochinvar." 
 
 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," q uoth young Lochinvar. 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 
 
 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : 
 
 There 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 w ar. 
 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 
 
iJAKTO Y. THE COURT. 261 
 
 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 ; 
 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 : 
 
262 MARMION. CANTO v. 
 
 " 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. 
 King James's minions led to die 
 
 On Lauder's dreary flat : 
 Princes and favourites long grew tame. 
 And trembled at the homely name 
 Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat. 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. *i63 
 
 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 ])looming fair, 
 
 To fix his princely bowers. 
 Though now, in age, he had laid down 
 His armour for the peaceftd 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. 
 
 XV. 
 
 His giant-form, like ruined tower. 
 
 Though fallen its muscles' brawny vaunt. 
 Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt. 
 
264 MARMION. canto v. 
 
 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. 
 And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen, 
 But e'en this morn to me was given 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. 265 
 
 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, w^hile they at Tantallon stay. 
 Requiem for Cochran's soul may say." 
 And, w^ith 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 j 
 
 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, 
 Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! 
 
 2 L 
 
266 , MARMION. canto v. 
 
 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 Houlate. 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. ««? 
 
 Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high. 
 When Douglas wets his manly eye 1" — 
 
 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." 
 
 xvni. 
 
 Leave we these revels now, to tell 
 What to Saint Hilda's maids befel ; 
 
 ' The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant. 
 
OANTO V. THE COURT. 2C9 
 
 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 ; 
 
«70 1 MARMION. (JAKTOv. 
 
 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 ; 
 
OANTo V. 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. 
 
27« MARMION. fc-ANTO v. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXL 
 
 *' O, holy Palmer !" 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 ! 
 I>e 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;) 
 
^ANTO V. THE COURT. ^7S 
 
 And once, when jealous rage was high, 
 Lord Marmion said despiteoiisly, 
 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 Du- 
 chess of Burgund}' with Lambert Simnel. He was defeated and killed at 
 Stokefield, 6th Juue, 1487. See Note. 
 
 2 M 
 
27 -f MARMION. canto v. 
 
 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 w^ays above ! 
 Perchance some form was unobserved ; 
 Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ; 
 Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
 Or how the blessed ordeal fail? 
 
 xxn. 
 
 "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. 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. ' 275 
 
 Who, rather than wed Marmioii, 
 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 w^as 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. 
 
87© MARMION^. canto v. 
 
 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 r. THE COURT. 277 
 
 O ! shame and horror to be said, — 
 
 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 vt^as,) should scheme 
 
 Her lover's nuptial hour ; 
 But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, 
 'As privy to his honour's stain. 
 
 Illimitable power : 
 For this she secretly retained 
 
 Each proof that might the plot reveal. 
 Instructions with his hand and seal; 
 And thus Saint Hilda deigfned. 
 Through sinner's perfidy impure. 
 Her house's glory to secure, 
 And Clare's immortal weal. 
 
278 MARMION. santo 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. — 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. 27D 
 
 What ail'st thou 1 — Speak \" — For as he took 
 The charge, a strong emotion shook 
 
 His frame ; and, ere reply, 
 They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone. 
 Like distant clarion feebly blown. 
 
 That on the breeze did die ; 
 And loud the Abbess shrieked in fear, 
 ** Saint Withold save us ! — What is here ! 
 
 Look at yon city cross ; 
 See on its battled tower appear 
 Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, 
 
 And blazoned banners toss \" 
 
 XXV. 
 Dun-Edin's cross, a pillar'd stone, 
 Rose on a turret octagon ; 
 
 (But now is razed that monument. 
 
 Whence royal edict rang, 
 And voice of Scotland's law was sent 
 In glorious trumpet clang. 
 
280 MARMION. CANTO V. 
 
 ! be his tomb as lead to lead. 
 Upon its dull destroyer's head ! — 
 A minstrel's malison'' is said. — ) 
 Then on its battlements thev 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 V. THE COURT. g«I 
 
 It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 
 From midmost of the spectre crowd. 
 This awful summons came : — 
 
 XXVL 
 
 " Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, 
 
 Whose names I now shall call, 
 Scottish, or foreigner, give ear ! 
 Suhjects 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 groan ! 
 When forty days are past and gone, 
 I cite you, at your Monarch's throne, 
 
 To answer and appear." — 
 
 2 N 
 
«82 MARMION. CANTO v. 
 
 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 I 
 
 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 V. THE COURT. fiSS 
 
 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 Tantallon fair 
 They journey in thy charge : 
 
284 MARMION. CANTO V. 
 
 Lord Marmlon 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 mein 
 A wond'rous 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 frock, 
 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. 
 
CANTO v, THE COURT. 2S5 
 
 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. 
 
28fi MARMION. CANTO V. 
 
 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 LaWj 
 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 
 1 he 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. 
 
CANTO 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.*' 
 
288 MARMION. <;anto v. 
 
 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 ; 
 Nor thinks, 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 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. Wq 
 
 Tliat 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." 
 
 9. 
 
 o 
 
390 MARMION. can to v. 
 
 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 V. 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 ; 
 
292 MARMION^ canto v. 
 
 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 !" — 
 Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 
 
 Kind blessings many a one ; 
 Weeping and wailing loud arose 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. 293 
 
 Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes 
 
 Of every simple nun. 
 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. 
 
294 MARMION. CANTO v. 
 
 By narrow draw-bridge, outworks strong, 
 Through studded gates, an entrance long, 
 
 To the main court they pass. 
 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. 
 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? 
 
CANTO V. THE COURT. ' 295 
 
 And, first, they heard King James had won 
 
 Etall, and Wark, and Ford ; and then. 
 
 That Norham's 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, 
 
S96 MARMION. canto v". 
 
 And marclied into Northumberland, 
 
 And camp at Wooler ta'en. 
 Marmion, like charger in the stall. 
 That hears without the trumpet call. 
 
 Began to chafe, and swear : — 
 " A sorry thing to hide my head 
 In castle, like a fearful maid, 
 
 When such a field is near ! 
 Needs must I see this battle-day : 
 Death to my fame, if such a fray 
 Were fought, and Marmion away ! 
 
 The Douglas, too, I wot not why, 
 
 Hath 'bated of his courtesy : 
 No longer in his halls I'll stay." — 
 Then bade his band, they should array 
 For march against the dawning day. 
 
 END OF CANTO FIFTH. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 3Inttoiiuction to Canto ^ixtj). 
 
 2 p 
 
[ 299 ] 
 
 TO 
 
 RICHARD HEBER, Esq. 
 
 Mertoun-House, Christmas. 
 JlXeap 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 
 Fit time for festival and cheer : 
 Even heathen yet, the savage Dane 
 At lol 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, 
 
300 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. 
 And 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 clay 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 ; 
 While round the merry wassel bowl. 
 Garnished with ribbons, blithe did trowl. 
 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 SIXTH. SOS 
 
 If unmelodious was the song, 
 
 It was a hearty note, and strong. 
 
 Who lists may m 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 l)rought 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 ; 
 
304 INTRODUCTION 
 
 For course of blood, our proverbs deem. 
 Is warmer than the mountain-stream. ^ 
 And thus, my Christmas 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 w^ith 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 vindicate our fami- 
 ly predilections. 
 
TO CANTO SIXTH. 305 
 
 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 ! 
 
 2 a 
 
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 w^onder and of war — '' Profane I 
 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. 
 
 12 
 
TO CANTO SIXTH. 307 
 
 jEneas, 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 battle 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 ; 
 
/' 
 
 SOS INTRODUCTION 
 
 Invisible to human ken. 
 
 He walks among the sons of men. 
 
 Didst e'er, dear Heber, pass along 
 Beneath the towers of Franc he mont, 
 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 Franchemont. 
 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 year& 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 ; 
 
 X 
 
310 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Whose gossip history has given 
 
 My song the messenger from heaven, 
 
 That warned, in Lithgow, Scotland's King, 
 
 Jslor less the infernal summoning. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 1 — 
 
TO CANTO SIXTH. 31 1 
 
 But, hark ! I hear the distant drum : 
 The day of Flodden field is come. — 
 Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health. 
 And store of literaiy wealth. 
 
MARMION. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 C6e Battle. 
 
 2 R 
 
[ 315 ] 
 
 MARMIOK 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Cfte OBattle. 
 
 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, 
 
SI6 MARMION. CANTO vi. 
 
 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 dizzj' steep 
 Hung o'er the margin of the deep. 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE, 517 
 
 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 re^t, 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 circuit did combine 
 
 Bulwark, and bartisan, and line, 
 
 And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign ; 
 
318 MARMION. eANTO vi. 
 
 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. 
 
CANTO VI. 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. oanto vi. 
 
 Ill 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 ; 
 
 to 
 
(JANTO 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 I knew. 
 To pay thy kindness grateful due, 
 And well could brook the mild command, 
 That ruled thy simple maiden band. — 
 / 
 
 * See Note. 
 
 2 s 
 
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 wrongs 
 
 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 hath 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! " — 
 
 12 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE, ^25 
 
 She raised her eyes in mournful mood, — 
 Wilton 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? 
 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. 
 
324 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 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. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ^t mnton's J^igtorg. 
 
 '' 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, 
 
 Said we would make a matchless pair ? — 
 Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled 
 From the degraded traitor's bed, — 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 385 
 
 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. 
 
326 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 My friend at length fell sick, and said, 
 
 God would remove him soon ; 
 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. 
 
BANTo 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. 
 
S2S MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 And weapons, from his sleeping band ; 
 
 And, passing from a postern door. 
 We met, and 'countered, hand to hand, — 
 
 He fell on GifFord-moor. 
 For the death-stroke my brand I drew, 
 (0 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 T 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, 
 
CANTO VI. 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, 
 
 2 T 
 
SSO MARMION. kanto vi. 
 
 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 1 
 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" *' 0, Wilton! must we then 
 
 Risque new-found happiness again, 
 
 * Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. ■ 
 
 6 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 331 
 
 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. 
 
352 MARiMION. canto vi. 
 
 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 VI. 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. 
 
 xn. 
 
 Then at the altar Wilton kneels. 
 
 And Clare the spurs bound on his heels ; 
 
334 MARMION. CANTO vi. 
 
 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 
 
 That Douglas is my brother I" 
 
CANTO 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 !" — ■ 
 
 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 stop'd to bid adieu : — 
 
336 MARMION. CANTO >i. 
 
 *' 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, 
 
 11 
 
OAKTO VI. THE BATTLE. S47 
 
 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 : 
 
 2 F 
 
§^38 MARMION. canto 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 BothAvell, no ! — 
 Up drawbridge, grooms — what. Warder, ho ! 
 
 Let the portcullis fall." — 
 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. 
 
CANTO 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 ! 
 
 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. canto vi 
 
 Witli this his mandate he recals, 
 And slowly seeks his castle halls. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The day in Marinion'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 conch 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; 
 
CANTO VI. 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 niglit it hung not in the hall ; 
 
 I thought some marvel would jjefal. 
 
 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^ P**^y 
 
 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?" — 
 
 V 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " In brief, my lord, we both descried 
 (For I then stood by Henry's side) 
 
 '' His eldest son, the Master of Aagus. 
 
342 • MARMION. CANTO vi. 
 
 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 1 
 
 Small risque of that, I trow. — 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. S43 
 
 Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun ; 
 Must separate Constance from the Nun — 
 
 what a tangled web we weave. 
 When first we practice to deceive ! — 
 A Palmer too ! — no wonder why 
 
 1 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. canto vi. 
 
 Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 
 Give Marmion entertainment fair. 
 And lodging for his train, and Clare. 
 JNext morn the Baron climbed the tower. 
 To view afar the Scottish power. 
 
 Encamped on Flodden edge : 
 The white pavilions made a show. 
 Like remnants of the winter snow, 
 
 Along the dusky ridge. 
 Long Marmion looked :— at length his eye 
 Unusual movement might descry, 
 
 Amid the shifting lines : 
 The Scottish host drawn out appears. 
 For, flashing on the hedge of spears 
 
 The eastern sun-beam shines. 
 Their front now deepening, now extending ; 
 Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, 
 Now drawing back, and now descending, 
 The skilful Marmion well could know, 
 They watched the motions of some foe. 
 Who traversed on the plain below. 
 
GANTo VI. THE BATl^LE. 345 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Even so it was ; — fi'om Flodden ridge 
 The Scots beheld the English host 
 Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, 
 And heedful watched them as they crossed 
 The Till by Twisel Bridge. 
 
 High sight it is, and haughty, while 
 They dive into the deep defile ; 
 Beneath the caverned cliff they fall. 
 Beneath the castle's airy wall. 
 
 By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree. 
 Troop after troop is disappearing ; 
 Troop after troop their banners rearing, 
 
 Upon the eastern bank you see. 
 Still pouring down the rocky den, 
 
 Where flows the sullen Till, 
 And rising from the dim-wood glen. 
 Standards on standards, men on men. 
 
 In slow succession still. 
 And bending o'er the Gothic arch. 
 And pressing on, in ceaseless march, 
 
 2 X 
 
348 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 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 ? 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 347 
 
 What vails the vain knight-erraiit's brand ? — 
 O, Douglas, for thy leading vv^and ! 
 Fierce Randolph, for thy speed ! 
 O for one hour of Wallace wight. 
 Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight. 
 And cry — " Saint Andrew and our right !" 
 Another sight had seen that morn. 
 From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn. 
 And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne ! — 
 The precious hour has passed in vain. 
 And England's host has gained the plain ; 
 Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
 Ai'ound the base of Flodden-hill. 
 
 XXL 
 
 Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, 
 Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, — 
 
 " Hark ! hark ! my lord, an English drum ! 
 
 And see ascending squadrons come 
 Between Tweed's river and the hill. 
 
348 MARMIOX. canto vj. 
 
 Foot, horse, and cannon : — bap what hap. 
 My basnet to a prentice cap. 
 
 Lord Surrey's o'er the Till ! — 
 Yet more ! yet more ! — bow fair arrayed 
 They file from out the hawthorn shade, 
 
 And sweep so gallant by ! 
 With all their banners bravely spread. 
 
 And all their armour flashing high. 
 Saint George might waken from the dead. 
 
 To see fair England's banners fly." — 
 '' Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount ; '* thou'dst 
 
 best. 
 And listen to our lord's behest." — 
 With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, — 
 '" This instant be our band arrayed ; . 
 The river must be quickly crossed. 
 That we may join Lord Surrey's host. 
 If fight King James, — as well I trust, 
 That fight he will, and fight he must, — 
 The Lady Clare behind our lines 
 Shall tarry, while the battle joins." — 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 349 
 
 XXIL 
 
 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. 
 
360 MARMION. caxto vi. 
 
 Stoutly they braved the current's course. 
 And, though far downward driven per force. 
 
 The southern bank they gain ; 
 Behind them, straggling, came to shore. 
 
 As best they might, the train : 
 Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore, 
 
 A caution not in vain ; 
 Deep need that day that every string, 
 By wet unharmed, should sharply ring. 
 A moment then Lord Marmion staid. 
 And breathed his steed, his men arrayed, 
 
 Then forward moved his band. 
 Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won. 
 He halted by a cross of stone. 
 That, on a hillock standing lone. 
 
 Did all the field command. 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 Hence might they see the full array 
 Of either host, for deadly fray ; 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE, 351 
 
 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 slovv^ 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." — 
 
\i,'i MARMION. CANTO VI. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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 has the 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. 
 
 NoAV, gallant Marmion, well I know. 
 
 Would gla<lly to the vanguard go ; 
 
.;axto 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 Suj-rey !" 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 : 
 
 2 Y 
 
354 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 
 " Unworthy office here to stay I 
 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 smpke ; 
 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. — 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 355 
 
 They close, in clouds of smoke and dust. 
 With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; 
 
 And such a yell was there, 
 Of sudden and portentous birth, 
 As if men fought upon the earth. 
 
 And fiends in upper air. 
 Long looked the anxious squires ; their eye 
 Could in the darkness nought descry. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 At length the freshening western blast 
 Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
 And, first, the ridge of mingled spears 
 Above the brightening cloud appears ; 
 And in the smoke the pennons flew. 
 As in the storm the white sea-mew. 
 Then marked they dashing broad and far^, 
 The broken billows of the war. 
 And plumed crests of chieftains brave. 
 Floating like foam upon the wave ; 
 
356 MARMION. ' canto vi. 
 
 But nouglit distinct they see : 
 Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
 Spears shook, and faiilchions 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. 
 
 XXVHI. 
 
 Far on the left, unseen the while, 
 Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; 
 
CANTO VI, THE BATTLE. 357 
 
 Tliouofh 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 tbe host/' 
 And to the fray he rode amain. 
 Followed by all the archer train. 
 The fiery youth, with deperate 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,. 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 35D 
 
 A look and sign to Clara cast. 
 To mark he would return in haste. 
 Then plunged into the fight. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 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 hy 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. 
 
360 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 Draaaed from anion or the horses feet, 
 With dinted shield, and hehnet Ijeat, 
 The falcon-crest and plumage gone. 
 Can that be haughty Marmion ! . . . . 
 Young Blount his armour did unlace. 
 And, gazing on his ghastly face, 
 
 Said — " By Saint George, he's gone ! 
 That spear-wound has our master sped ; 
 And see the deep cut on his head ! 
 
 Good night to Marmion." — 
 " Unnurtured Blount ! thy brawling cease : 
 He opes his eyes," said Eustace,; " peace !" — 
 
 XXX. 
 
 When, doffed his casque, he felt free air, 
 Around gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
 " Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where ? 
 Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 
 Redeem my pennon, — charge again ! 
 
 Cry — ' Marmion to the rescue !' — Vain 1 
 
 11 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 30 1 
 
 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 reft ;— 
 The Admiral alone is left. 
 Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,— 
 With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 
 Full upon Scotland's central host, 
 Or victory and England's lost. — 
 Must I bid twice ?— hence, varlets ! fly! 
 Leave Marmion here alone — to die." — 
 They parted, and alone he lay ; 
 Clare drew her from the sight away, 
 Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan. 
 And half he murmured, — '* Is there none, 
 
 2 z 
 
362 MARMION. CANTO vj. 
 
 Of all iny 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's side. 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. S6S 
 
 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, 
 
 " Drinfe. toearg. pilgrim, ntink. anu. prag. 
 jfor. t&e. feinD. soul of. ^gbil. (I5rep. 
 mf)o. built. tU0. cross. anD. \otll" 
 
 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 vi. 
 
 " 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 prayer ! 
 
 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." — 
 Loi'd 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 
 
 I 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 365 
 
 For wasting fire, and dying groan, 
 And priests slain on the altar stone. 
 Might bribe him tor delay. 
 It may not be ! — this dizzy trance — 
 Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
 And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
 A sinful heart makes feeble hand." — 
 Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk. 
 Supported by the trembling Monk. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 With fruitless labour, Clara bound. 
 
 And strove to staunch, the gushing wound r 
 
 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, home down by the Jlying, 
 Where mingles wars rattle with groans of the dying T 
 
 So the notes rung ; 
 
3GG MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 *' Avoid thee, Fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
 Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! — 
 O look, my son, upon yon sign 
 Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 
 
 O think on faith and bliss ! — 
 By many a deatli-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, 
 
CANTO VI. 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 1 
 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 I 
 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 !" — 
 
368 MARMION. canto vi. 
 
 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 voUies 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 deal the ghastly blow. 
 
 Unbroken was the ring ; 
 The stubborn spear-men still made good 
 Their dark impenetrable wood. 
 
CANTO vt. 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 shatter'd bands ; 
 
 And from the charge they drew. 
 As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, 
 
 Sweep back to ocean blue. 
 Then did their loss his 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, 
 
 3. A 
 
S70 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 ; 
 
CANTO viJ 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. 
 He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ; 
 Reckless of life, he desperate fought, 
 
 And fell on Flodden plain : 
 And well in death his trusty brand. 
 Firm 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. 
 
372 MAHMION. canto vi. 
 
 A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair. 
 
 Did long Lord Marmion's image bear. 
 
 (Now vainly for its site you look ; 
 
 'Twas levelled, when fanatic Brook 
 
 The fair cathedral stormed and took ; 
 
 But, thanks to heaven, and good Saint Chad, 
 
 A guerdon meet the spoiler had I) 
 
 There erst was martial Marmion found. 
 
 His feet upon a couchant hound, , 
 
 His hands to heaven upraised ; 
 And all around, on scutcheon rich. 
 And tablet carved, and fretted niche, 
 
 His arms and feats were blazed. 
 And yet, though all was carved so fair. 
 And priests for Marmion breathed the prayer, 
 The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
 From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
 Followed his lord to Flodden plain, — 
 One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
 In Scotland mourns as " wede away :" 
 
CANTO VI. 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 ; 
 
874 MARMION. oanto vi. 
 
 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 w^rong ; 
 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. 
 
cAxNTo VI. THE BATIXE. 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. canto vi. 
 
 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 !" — 
 
 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. 
 8 
 
CANTO VI. THE BATTLE. 377 
 
 To every lovely lady bright. 
 
 What can I wish but faithful knight? 
 
 To every faithful lover too, 
 
 What can I wish but lady true ? 
 
 And knowledge to the studious sage ; 
 
 And pillow soft to head of age. 
 
 To thee, dear schoolboy, whom my lay 
 
 Has cheated of thy hour of play. 
 
 Light task, and merry holiday ! 
 
 To all, to each, a fair good night. 
 
 And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light ! 
 
 END or MARMION. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 As when the Champion of the Lake 
 
 Enters Morganas fated house, 
 
 Or in the Chapel Perilous, 
 
 Despisi7ig spells and demons' force. 
 
 Holds converse with the unhuried corse. — P. !?• 
 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 lan- 
 guage, ^ives the general reader an excellent idea of what ro- 
 mances of chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of 
 being written in pure old English ; and many of the wild 
 adventures which it contains, are told with a simplicity bor- 
 dering upon the sublime. Several of these are referred to in 
 the text ; and I would have illustrated them by more full 
 extracts, but as this curious work is about to be republish- 
 ed, 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 
 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 
 
iv NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 turned upside downe, and man^^ of the shields Sir Launce- 
 lot 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 Launcelot ; 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 peece of that cloath away, and then it fared un- 
 der 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 liim with a grimly voice, and said, 
 ' Knight Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else 
 thou shalt die.' ' Whether 1 live or die,' said Sir Launce- 
 lot, ' with no great words get yee it againe, therefore fight 
 for it and yee list.' Therewith he passed through them ; 
 and, beyond the chappell-yard, there met him a faire damo- 
 sell, and said, ' Sir Launcelot, leave that sword behind 
 thee, or thou Avilt die for it.' ' I will not leave it,' said 
 Sir Launcelot, ' for no threats.' No ;' said she, ' and he 
 did leave that sword, Queene Guenever should ye never 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. v 
 
 see/ ' Then were I a foole and I would leave this sword,' 
 said Sir Launcelot. ' Now, gentle knight,' said the damo- 
 sell, ' I require thee to kisse mee once/ ' Nay,' said Sir 
 Launcelot, ' that, God forbid !' ' Well, sir,' said she, ' and 
 thou haddest kissed me, th_y life dayes had been done ; but 
 now, alas !' said she, " I have lost all my labour; for I or- 
 deined this chappell for th}^ 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 bastard, and at that time hee smote off Sir 
 Gilbert the bastard's left hand. And so. Sir Launcelot, now 
 I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seaven yeare ; but 
 there may no woman have thy love but 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 balmed it and served, and so have 
 kept it my life dales, and daily I should have clipped thee, 
 and kissed thee in the despite of Queene Guenever.' ' Yea 
 say well ;' said Sir Launcelot, ' Jesus preserve me from 
 your subtill crafts !' And therewith he took his horse, and 
 departed from her/' 
 
 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 
 
vi NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 of which the last passover was eaten, a precious rehck, 
 which had long remained concealed from human eyes, be- 
 cause 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 a^ow to seek the 
 Sangreall. But, alas ! it could only be revealed to a knight 
 at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure and guilt- 
 less of evil conversation. All Sir Launcelot's noble accom- 
 plishments were therefore rendered vain by his guilty in- 
 trigue with Queen Guenever, or Ganore ; and in this holy 
 quest he encountered only such disgraceful disasters 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 marble ; but it was so darke, that Sir Launcelot might 
 not well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by 
 him, and saw an old chappell, and there he wend to have 
 found people. And so Sir Launcelot tied his horse to a 
 tree, and there hee put off his shield, and hung it upon a 
 tree, and then hee went unto the chappell 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 
 candelstick, which beare six great candels, and the candle- 
 sticke was of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, 
 hee had a great will for to enter into the chappell, but hee 
 could find no place where hee might enter. Then was he 
 passing heavie and dismaied. Then hee returned, and came 
 
 10 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. vii 
 
 againe to his horse, and tooke off his saddle and his bridle, 
 and let hirn pasture, and unlaced his helme, and ungirded 
 his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his shield 
 before 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 
 sorrow 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 com- 
 plained the knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. 
 With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire 
 tapers come before the crosse ; but he could see no body 
 that brought it. Also there came a table of silver, and the 
 holy vessell of the Sancgreall, the which Sir Launcelot had 
 scene before that time in king Petchour's house. And there- 
 withall the sicke knight set him upright, and held up both 
 his hands, and said, ' Faire sweete Lord, which is here with- 
 in the holy vessell, take heede to mee, that I may bee hole 
 of this great malady.' And therewith upon his hands, and 
 upon his knees, he went so nigh, that he touched the holy 
 vessell, and kissed it : And anon he was hole, and then he 
 said, ' Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this ma- 
 lady.' Soo when the holy vessell had been there a great 
 while, it went unto the chappell againe with the candle- 
 
viii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 sticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not where it 
 became, for he was over taken 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 af- 
 terward. Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and 
 kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire brought him his 
 amies, and asked his lord how he did. ' Certainely,' 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, Avhich hath had neither grace nor power to awake 
 during the time that this holy vessell hath beene here pre- 
 sent.' ' 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 confessed/ ' By my faith,' said the 
 knight, ' whatsoever he be, he is unhappie ; for, as I deeme 
 hee is of the fellowship of the Round 'I'able, the which is en- 
 tred into the quest of the Sancgreall.' ' Sir,' said the squire, 
 ' here I have brought you all your amies, save your helme 
 and your sword, and therefore, by mine assent, now may ye 
 take this knight's helme and his sAvord,' and so he did. And 
 when he was cleane armed, he tooke Sir Launcelot's horse, 
 for he was better than his owne, and so they departed from 
 the crosse. 
 
 " Then anon Sir "Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe up 
 right, and he thought him what hee had there scene, and 
 whether it were dreames or not, right so he heard a voice 
 that said, ' Sir l.auncelot, more hardy then is the stone, and 
 more bitter then is the wood, and more naked and bare then 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. ix 
 
 is the liefe of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and 
 withdraw thee from this holy place ;' and when Sir Launcelot 
 heard this, hee was passing heavy, and wit not what to doe. 
 And so he departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that 
 he was borne ; for then hee deemed never to have had more 
 worship ; for the words went unto his heart, till that he knew 
 wherefore that hee was so called." 
 
 Note III. 
 
 And Dryden, in immortal strain. 
 Had raised the Table Round again. 
 But that a ribald king and court 
 Bade him toil on, to make them sport ; 
 Demanded for their niggard pay. 
 Fit for their souls, a looser lay. 
 Licentious satire, song, and play. — P.iTj 18. 
 Dry den's melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, 
 blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is 
 contained in an " Essay on Satire," addressed to the Earl of 
 Dorset, and prefixed to the Translation of Juvenal. After 
 mentioning a plan of supplying machinery from the guar- 
 dian angels of kingdoms, mentioned in the book of Daniel, 
 he adds : 
 
 " Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your 
 lordship, and by you the world, a rude draught of what I 
 have been long labouring in my imagination, and what I 
 had intended to have put in practice ; (though far unable for 
 the attempt of such a poem,) and to have left the stage, to 
 
 b 
 
X NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 which my genius never much incUned me, for a work which 
 would have taken up my Ufe in the performance of it. This 
 too I had intended chietly for the honour of my ' native 
 country, to which a poet is particularly obliged. Of two 
 subjects, both relating to it, I was doubtful whether I should 
 chuse that of King Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, 
 being farther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my 
 invention ; or that of Edward the Black Prince, in subduing 
 Spain, and restoring it to the lawful prince, though a great 
 tyrant, Don Pedro the Cruel : which, for the compass of 
 time, including only the expedition of one year, for the 
 greatness of the action, and its answerable event, for the 
 magnanimity of the English hero, opposed to the ingrati- 
 tude of the person whom he restored, and for the many 
 beautiful episodes which I had interwoven with the princi- 
 pal design, together with the characters of the chiefest Eng- 
 lish persons, (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I would 
 have taken occasion to represent my living friends and 
 patrons of the noblest families, and also shadowed the 
 events of future ages in the succession of our imperial line,) 
 — with these helps, and those of the machines which I have 
 mentioned, I might perhaps have done as well as some of 
 my predecessors, or at least chalked out a way for others to 
 amend my eiTors in a like design ; but being encouraged 
 only with fair words by King Charles II., my little salary 
 ill paid, and no prospect of a future subsistance, I was 
 then discouraged in the beginning of my attempt; and now 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xi 
 
 age has overtaken me, and want, a more insufferable evil, 
 through the change of the times, has wholly disabled me." 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold. — P. 20. 
 The " History of Bevis of Hampton" is abridged by my 
 friend Mr George Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts 
 amusement even out of the most rude and unpromising of 
 our old tales of chivalry. Ascapart, a most important per- 
 sonage in the romance, is thus described in an extract : 
 
 *£5" 
 
 This geaunt was mighty and strong. 
 
 And full thirty foot was long. 
 
 He was brisled like a sow ; 
 
 A foot he had between each brow ; 
 
 His lips were great, and hung aside ; 
 
 His eyen were hollow; his mouth was wide; 
 
 Lothly he was to look on than. 
 
 And liker a devil than a man. 
 
 His staff was n young oak. 
 
 Hard and heavy was his stroke. 
 
 Specimens of Metrical Romances, Vol. H. p. 1S6. 
 
 I am happy to say, that the memory of Sir Bevis is still 
 fragrant in his town of Southampton; the gate of which is 
 centineled by the effigies of that doughty knight-errant, and 
 his gigantic associate. 
 
xii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
 And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep. — P. 23. 
 The ruinous castle of Norham, (anciently called Ubban- 
 ford,) is situated on the southern bank of the Tweed, about 
 six miles above Berwick, and where that river is still the 
 boundary between England and Scotland. The extent of 
 its ruins, as well as its historical importance, shew it to have 
 been a place of magnificence, as well as strength. Edward I. 
 resided there when he was created umpire of the dispute 
 concerning the Scottish succession. It was repeatedly taken 
 and retaken during the wars between England and Scot- 
 land ; and, indeed, scarce any happened, in which it had 
 not a principal share. Norham Castle is situated on a steep! 
 bank, Avhich overhangs the river. The repeated sieges which 
 the castle had sustained, rendered frequent repairs necessa- 
 ry. In 1164 it was almost rebuilded by Hugh Pudsey, 
 bishop of Durham, who added a huge keep or donjon ; not- 
 withstanding which, King Henry II., in 1174-, took the 
 castle from the bishop, and committed the keeping of it to 
 William de Neville. After this period it seems to have 
 been chiefly garrisoned by the king, and considered as a 
 royal fortress. The Greys of Chillinghame Castle were fre- 
 quently the castellans, or captain of the garrison : Yet, as 
 the castle was situated in the patrimony of St Cuthbert, the 
 property was in the see of Durham till the Reformation. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xiii 
 
 According to Mr Pinkerton, there is, in the British Mu- 
 seum, Cal. B. 6. 216. a curious memoir of the Dacres on 
 the state of Norham Castle in 1522, not long after the 
 battle of Flodden. The inner ward or keep is represented 
 as impregnable : " The provisions are three great vats of salt 
 eels, forty- four kine, three hogsheads of salted salmon, forty 
 quartes of grain, besides many cows, and four hundred 
 sheep lying under the castle wall nightly ; but a number of 
 the arrows wanted feathers, and a good Fletcher (i, e. maker 
 of arrows) was required." — History of Scotland, Vol. II. 
 p. 201. Note. 
 
 The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well 
 as picturesque. They consist of a large shattered tower, 
 with many vaults, and fragments of other edifices, inclosed 
 within an outward wall of great circuit. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 The donjon keep. — -P. 23, 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the 
 donjon, in its proper signification, means the strongest part 
 of a feudal castle ; a high square tower, with walls of tre- 
 mendous thickness, situated in the centre of the other build- 
 ings, from which, however, it was usually detached. Here, 
 in case of the outward defences being gained, the garrison 
 retreated to make their last stand. The donjon contained 
 the great hall, and principal rooms of state for solemn occa- 
 sions, and also the prison of the fortress ; from which last 
 circumstance we derive the modern and restricted use of the 
 
siv NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 word dungeon. Ducange (voce Dunjo) conjectures, plausi- 
 bly, that tlie name is derived from these keeps being usual- 
 ly built upon a hill, which in Celtic is called Dun. Bor- 
 lase supposes the word came from the darkness of the apart- 
 ments 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 pas- 
 sage, in which Froissart gives an account of the ])reparations 
 made by Henry, Earl of Hereford, aftenvards Henry IV., 
 and Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marischal, for their 
 proposed combat in the lists at Coventry : " These two lords 
 made ample provision of all things necessary for the com- 
 bat ; and the Earl of Derby sent off messengers to Lombar- 
 dy, to have armour from Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The 
 duke complied with joy, and gave the knight, called Sir 
 Erancis, who had brought the message, the choice of all his 
 armour for the Earl of Derby. "When he had selected what 
 he wished for in plated and mail armour, the lord of Milan, 
 out of his abundant love for the Eari, ordered four of the 
 best armourers in Milan to accompany the knight to Eng- 
 land, that the Eari of Derby might be more completely 
 armed."— John Es' Froissart, Vol. IV. p. 597. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xV 
 
 Note Vlir. 
 
 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 
 foUowino- story. Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crau- 
 ford, was, according to my authority Bower, not only excel- 
 ling in wisdom, but also of a lively wit. Chancing to be at 
 the court of London, about 1390, he there saw Sir Piers 
 Courtenay, an English knight, famous for skill in tilting, 
 and for the beauty of his person, parading the palace, ar- 
 rayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an embroidered 
 falcon, with this rhime, — 
 
 I bear a falcon, fairest of flight. 
 Who so pinches at her, his death is dight* 
 
 In grailh.f 
 
 The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a 
 dress exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a 
 magpie instead of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously con- 
 trived to rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers : 
 
 I bear a pie picking at a piece. 
 Who so picks at her, I shall pick at his nese, J 
 
 In faith. 
 
 Prepared. f Armour. % Nose. 
 
xvi NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp 
 lances. In the course, Lindsay 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 happen- 
 ed twice : — in the third encounter, the handsome Courtenay 
 lost two of his front teeth. As the Englishman complained 
 bitterly of Lindsay'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 de- 
 manded, that Sir Piers, in addition to the loss of his teeth, 
 should consent to the extinction of one of his eyes, he him- 
 self having lost an eye in the fight of Otterburn. As Courte- 
 nay demurr'd to this equalization of optical powers, Lind- 
 say 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 appear to 
 the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that time. 
 I suspect the Jockey Club would have given a different de- 
 cision fi-om Henry IV. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 Largesse, largesse. — P. 33. 
 This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were 
 Avont to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. 
 Stewart of Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirizes 
 
 10 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xvii 
 
 the narrowness of James V., and his courtiers, by the iron- 
 ical 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 ni}' hand shd — shiUings twae!* 
 To put his largeness to the prief,-j- 
 For lerges of this new year day. 
 
 Tlie 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 im- 
 portance, pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable cha- 
 racter rendered them the only persons that could, with per- 
 fect assurance of safety, be sent on necessary embassies into 
 Scotland. This is alluded to in Stanza XXll. p. 12. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 They hailed Lord Marmion: 
 They hailed him Lord of Foiitenaye, 
 Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, 
 
 Of Tamworth tower and town. — P. 32. 
 Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present ro- 
 mance, is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times* 
 
 * Two. t Proof. 
 
xviii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 indeed, the family of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay, in Nor- 
 mandy, was highly distinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord 
 of Fontenay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror, ob- 
 tained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworlh, and also 
 of the manor of Scrivelby, in Lincolnshire. One, or both, of 
 these noble possessions was held by the honourable service of 
 being the royal champion, as the ancestors of Marmion had 
 formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. But after the 
 castle and demesne of Tamworth had passed through four 
 successive barons from Robert, the family became extinct 
 in the person of Philip de Marmion, who died in 20th Ed- 
 ward I., without issue male. He was succeeded in his 
 Castle of 7'amworth by Alexander de Frevile, who married 
 Mazera, his grand-daughter. Baldwin de Freville, Alexan- 
 der's descendant, in the reign of Richard L, by the supposed 
 tenure of his castle of Tamworth, claimed the office of royal 
 champion, and to do the service appertaining; namely, on the 
 day of coronation, to ride completely armed, upon a barb- 
 ed horse, into Westminster Hall, and there to challenge the 
 combat against any who would gainsay the king's title. But 
 this office was adjudged to Sir John D^-moke, to whom the 
 manor of Scrivelby had descended by another of the co- 
 heiresses of Robert de Marmion ; and it remains in that fa- 
 mily, whose representative is Hereditary Champion of Eng- 
 land at the present day. The family and possessions of 
 Frevile have merged in the Earls of Ferrars : I have not, 
 therefore, created a new family, but only revived the titles 
 of an old one in an imaginary personage. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 XIX 
 
 It was one of the Marmion family, who, in the reign of 
 Edward 11., performed that chivahous feat before the very 
 castle of Norham, which Bishop Percy has Avoven into his 
 beautiful ballad, " The Hermit of Warkworth." The story 
 is thus told by Leland : . 
 
 " Tlie Scottes came yn to the marches of England, and 
 destroyed the Castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran 
 much of Northumberland marches. 
 
 " At this tyme Thomas Gray and his friendes defended 
 Norham from the Scottes. 
 
 " It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischefes 
 cam by hungre and asseges by the space of xi yeres in Nor- 
 thumberland ; for the Scottes became so proude after they 
 had got Berwick, that they nothing esteemed the English- 
 men. 
 
 " About this tyme there was a greate feste made yn Lin- 
 colnshir, to which came many gentilmen and ladies ; and 
 amonge them one lady brought a heaulme for a man of 
 were, with a very richc creste of gold, to William Marmion, 
 knight, with a letter of commandement of her lad}', that he 
 should go into the daungerest place in England, and ther 
 to let the heaulme be scene and known as famous. So he 
 went to Norham ; whither withyn 4 days of cumming cam 
 Philip Moubray, guardian of Berwicke, having yn his bande 
 40 men of armes, the very flour of men of the Scottish 
 marches. 
 
 " Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge this, brought 
 his garison afore the barriers of the castel, behynd whom 
 
XX NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 cam William, richly arrayed, as al glittering in gold, and 
 wering the heaulme, his lady's present. 
 
 " Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, ' Sir knight, ye 
 be cum hither to fame your helmet : mount up on yor horse, 
 and ryde lyke a valiant man to yowr foes even here at hand, 
 and I forsake God if I rescue not thy body deade or aly ve, 
 or I myself wyl dye for it. 
 
 " Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode among the 
 throng of ennemyes ; the which layed sore stripes on hym, 
 and pullid hym at the last out of his sadel to the grounde. 
 
 " Then Thomas Gray, Avith al the hole garrison, lette prik 
 yn among the Scottes, and so wondid them and their horses, 
 that they were overthrowan ; and Marmion, sore beten, was 
 horsid agayn, and, with Gray, persewed the Scottes yn 
 chase. There were taken 50 horse of price ; and the women 
 of Norham brought them to the foote men to follow the 
 chase." 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 Sir Hugh the Heron hold. 
 Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, 
 
 And Captain of the Hold. — P. 34. 
 Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narra- 
 tive, this castellan's name ought to have been W illiam : For 
 William Heron of Ford was husband to the famous Lady 
 Ford, whose syren charms are said to have cost our James 
 IV. so dear. Moreover, the said AVilliam Heron was, at 
 the time supposed, a prisoner in Scotland, being surrender- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxi 
 
 ed by Henry VIII., on account of his share in the slaughter 
 of Sir Robert Ker of Cessford. His wife, represented in 
 the text as residing at the court of Scotland, was, in fact, 
 living in her own castle at Ford. See Sir Richard He- 
 ron's curious Genealogy of the Heron Family. 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 The whiles a Northern harper rude 
 
 Chaunted a rhyme of deadly feud, 
 
 " How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all, &c." 
 
 Page 35. 
 This old Northumbrian ballad Avas taken down from the 
 recitation of a woman eighty years, of age, mother of one of 
 the miners in Alston-moor, by the agent for the lead mines 
 there, avIio communicated it to my friend and correspondent, 
 R. Surtees, Esquire of Mainsforth. She had not, she said, 
 heard it 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 Avild 
 and disorderly state of society, in which a murder was not 
 merely a casual circumstance, but, in some cases, an ex- 
 ceedingly good jest. The structure of the ballad resembles 
 the " Fray of Suport," * having the same irregular stanza 
 and wild chorus. 
 
 * See Minstrels)/ of the Scottish Border, Vol. I, p. 250. 
 
xxii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 I. 
 
 Hoot awa', lads, hoot awa'. 
 
 Ha' ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thinvalls, and a'. 
 
 Ha' set upon Albany i Featherstonhaugh, 
 
 And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh : 
 
 There was Willimoteswickj 
 
 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. 
 
 III. 
 
 I canna' tell a', I canna' tell a'; 
 
 Some gat a skelp, 2 and some gat a claw ; 
 
 But they gard the Featherstons hand their jaw, — ' 
 
 Nicol, and Alick, and a'. 
 Some gat a hurt, and some gat nane ; 
 Some had harness, and some gat sta'en. * 
 
 1 Pronounced Awbony. 
 
 2 Skelp signifies slap, or rather is the same word which was originally spell- 
 ed schlap. 
 
 3 Hold their jaw, a vulgar expression still in use. 
 
 •* Got stolen, or were plundered ; a very likely termination of the fray. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxiii 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ane gat a twist o' the craig ; i 
 Ane gat a bunch • o' the wame ; ' 
 Symy Haw gat lamed of a leg, 
 And syne ran wallowing ^ hame. 
 
 Hoot, hoot, the auld man's slain outright ! 
 
 Lay him now wi' his face down: — he's a sorrowful sight. 
 
 Janet, thou donot, 3 
 
 I'll lay my best bonnet. 
 Thou gets a new gude-nian afore it be night. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Hoo away, lads, hoo away, 
 Wi's a' be hangid if we stay. 
 
 Tak' up the dead man, and lay him anent the bigging ; 
 Here's the Bailey o' Haltwhistle, ^ 
 Wi' his great bull's pizzle. 
 
 That sup'd up the broo'j and syne in the piggin.^ 
 
 In explanation of this ancient ditty, Mr Surtees has fur- 
 nished me with the following; local memorandum : Willi- 
 moteswick, now more commonly called Ridley Hall, is si- 
 
 1 Neck. 2 Punch. 3 Belly. •* Bellowing. 
 
 5 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. 
 
 ^ The Bailiff of Haltwhistle seems to have arrived when the fray was over. 
 This supporter of social order is treated with characteristic irreverence by the 
 moss-trooping poet. 
 
 '^ Aa iron-pot with two ears. 
 
xxiv NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 tuated at the confluence of the AUon and Tyne, and was 
 the chief seat of the ancient family of Ridley. Hardriding 
 Dick is not an epithet referring to horsemansliip, but means 
 Richard Ridley of Hardriding, the seat of another family of 
 that name, which, in the time of Charles I., was sold on ac- 
 count of expences incurred by the loyalty of the proprietor, 
 the immediate ancestor of Sir Matthew Ridley. Will of the 
 Wa' seems to be William Ridley of Walltown, so called fi*om 
 its situation on the great Roman wall. Thirlwall Castle, 
 whence the clan of Thirlwalls derived their name, is situa- 
 ted 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 I'eatherstonhaugh, 
 the chief of that ancient family, made a figure in the reign 
 of Edward VI. A feud did certainly exist between the Rid- 
 leys and Featherstones, productive of such consequences as 
 the ballad narrates. 24 Oct. 22do Henrici 8vi. Inquisitio capt. 
 apiid HautwMstle, sup. visum corpus Alexandri Featherston, 
 Gen. apud Grensilhaugh, felonice interfecti, 22 Oct. perNico- 
 laum Ridley de Unthanke, Gen. Hugon Ridle, Nicolaum 
 Jiidle, et alios ejttsdem nominis. Nor were the Featherstones 
 without their revenge ; for 36to Henrici 8vi, we have — JJtla- 
 gatio Nicolai Fetherston, ac Thome Nyxson, cj-c. ^-c. pro homi- 
 cidio Will"'\ Ridle de Morale, 
 
JNOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xx9 
 
 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 
 Scotland ; and James IV., after conferring upon him in mar- 
 riage his own relation, the Lady Catharine Gordon, made 
 war on England in behalf of his pretensions. To reta- 
 liate an invasion of England, Surrey advanced into Ber- 
 wickshire at the head of considerable forces, but retreated 
 after taking the inconsiderable fortress of Ayton. Ford, in 
 his Dramatic Chronicle of Perkin Warbeck, makes the most 
 of this inroad : 
 
 SuRBEY. Are all our braving enemies shrunk back ; 
 
 Hid in the fogges of their distempered climate. 
 Not daring to behold our colours wave 
 In spight of this infected ajTe ? Can they 
 Looke on the strength of Cundrestine defac't ; 
 The glorie of Heydonhall devasted ; that 
 Of Edington cast downe ; the pile of Fulden 
 Orethrowne ; And this, the strongest of their forts. 
 Old Ayton Castle, yeelded, and demolished. 
 And yet not peepe abroad ? the Scots are bold, 
 Hardie in battayie, but it seemes the cause 
 They undertake considered, appeares 
 Unjoynted in the frame on't. 
 d 
 
xxvi NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Note XIV. 
 
 For here be some hove pricked as far. 
 
 On Scottish ground, as to Dmihar ; 
 
 Have drunk the inonks of St Hothaiis ale. 
 
 And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
 
 Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods. 
 
 And given them light to set their hoods. — P. 41. 
 The garrisons of the English castles of Mark, Norhani, 
 and Berwick, were, as may be easily supposed, very trouble- 
 some neighbours to Scotland. Sir Richard Maitland of 
 Ledington wrote a poem, called " The Blind Baron's Com- 
 fort ;" when his barony of Blythe, in Lauderdale, Avas haried 
 by Rowland Foster, the English captain of Wark, with his 
 company, to the number of 300 men. They spoiled the 
 poetical knight of 5000 sheep, 200 nolt, 30 horses and 
 mares; the whole furniture of his house of Bl_ythe, worth 
 100 pounds Scots, (L. 8:6:8) and every thing else that was 
 portable. " This spoil was committed the l6th 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 lippend (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 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxvii 
 
 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 let- 
 ter, to which I have mislaid the reference, the Earl of Nor- 
 thumberland writes to the king and council, that he dressed 
 himself, at midnight, at Warwick, by the blaze of the neigh- 
 bouring villages burned by the Scottish marauders. 
 
 Note XV. 
 
 And of that Grot where Olives nod, 
 JVhere, 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 no- 
 ble family, and, when very young, abhorred so much the 
 vanities of this world, and avoided the converse of mankind, 
 resolving to dedicate herself wholly to God Almight}^, that 
 she, by divine 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 ^yoman lived a great many 
 years, feeding only on what she found growing on that bar- 
 ren mountain, and creeping into a narrow and dreadful cleft 
 in a rock, which was always dropping wet, and was her 
 
xxTiii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 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 beneath 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 Avork ; 
 and the altar, 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 
 Gargantua could not sleep by any means, on which side so- 
 ever 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 Avell ; and, beginning 
 the first of these psalms, as soon as they came to Beati quo- 
 rum, they fell asleep, both the one and the other." 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxix 
 
 Note XVII. 
 
 The summoned Palmer came in place; 
 q»-4iib »©■ 1- — — — 
 
 In his black mantle was he clad. 
 
 With Peter's keys^ in cloth of red^ 
 
 On his broad shoulders wrought.— V. 49- 
 A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it 
 his sole business to visit different holy shrines ; travelling in- 
 cessantly, and subsisting by charity : whereas the Pilgrim re- 
 tired to his usual home and occupations, when he had paid 
 his devotions at the particular spot, which was the object of 
 his pilgrimage. The Palmers seem to have been the Qucts- 
 tionarii of the ancient Scottish canons 1242 and 1296. There 
 is, in the Bannatyne MS., a burlesque account of two such 
 persons, entitled, " Simmy and his Brother." Their acou- 
 trements are thus ludicrously described, (I discard the an- 
 cient spelling.) 
 
 ' ' • Syne shaped them up to loup on leas. 
 Two tabards of the tartan ; 
 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' shells, on t'other side, shews 
 As pretty as a partane 
 
 Toe, 
 On Symmye and his brother. 
 6 
 
xsx NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Note :XVIII. 
 
 "^To fair St Andrexvs bounds 
 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, (ScotticS, St Rule) a monk of Patrae, in Achaia, 
 warned by a vision, is said, A. D. 370, to have sailed west- 
 ward, 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^rcligious person. It 
 is difficult of access ; and the rock in which it is hewed is 
 washed by the German ocean. It is nearly round, about 
 ten feet in diameter, and the same in height. Oil one side 
 is a sort of stone altar ; on the other an aperture into an in- 
 ner den, where the miserable ascetic, who inhabited this 
 dwelling, probably slept. At full tide, egress and regress is 
 hardly practicable. As Regulus first colonized the metro- 
 politan see of Scotland, and converted the inhabitants in 
 the vicinity, he has some reason to complain, that the an- 
 cient name of Killrule (Cella Reguli) should have been su- 
 perseded, 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. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxxi 
 
 Note XIX. 
 
 Thence to Saint FiUan's blessed well, 
 JVJiose spj-ing can frenzkd dreams dispel. 
 And the crazed brain restore. — P.* 52. 
 St Filial! was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Al- 
 though Popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the 
 common people still retain some of the superstitions con- 
 nected with it. There are, in Perthshire, several wells and 
 springs dedicated to St Fillan, Avhich are still places of pil- 
 grimage 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 7iow, and bare, 
 JV here flourished once a forest fair. — P. 59- 
 Etiricke 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, al- 
 most totally destroyed, although, wherever protected from 
 the sheep, copses soon arise without any planting. \Mien 
 the king hunted there, he often summoned the array of the 
 country to meet and assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James 
 V. " made proclamation to all lords, barons, gentlemen, 
 landward-men, and freeholders, 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, An- 
 andale, Liddisdale, and other parts of that country ; and al- 
 so warned all gentlemen that had good dogs, to bi'ing them, 
 that he might hunt in the said country, as he pleased : The 
 Avhilk the Earl of Argyle, the Earl of Huntley, the Earl of 
 Athole, and so all the rest of the gentlemen of the High- 
 
xxxiv NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 land, did, and brought their hounds with them in like man- 
 ner, to hunt with the king, as he pleased. 
 
 " The second day of June, the king past out of Edin- 
 burgh to the hunting, with many of the nobles and gentle- 
 men of Scotland with him, to the number of twelve thou- 
 sand men ; and then past to Meggitland, and hounded and 
 hawked all the country and bounds : that is to say, Cram- 
 mat, Pappertlaw, St JNIarylaws, Cavlavirick, Chapel, Ewin- 
 doores, and Longhope. I heard say, he slew, in these 
 bounds, eighteen score of harts." * 
 
 These huntings had, of course, a military character, and 
 attendance upon them was a part of the duty of a vassal. 
 The act for abolishing ward, or military tenures, in Scot- 
 land, enumerates the services of hunting, hosting, watching, 
 and warding, as those which were in future to be illegal. 
 
 Taylor, the Avater-poet, has given an account of the mode 
 in which these huntings were conducted in the Highlands 
 of Scotland, in the seventeenth century, having been present 
 at Braemar 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 Gordon, Earl of Engye, son and heir to 
 the Marquis of Huntly ; 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 
 
 * Pitscottik's TTistori/ of Scotland, foYio eilhion, p. 143. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xxxv 
 
 Abercarney, and hundred 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 pleasure) 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 former time, 
 were those people which were called the Hed-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 shoul- 
 ders ; which is a mantle of divers 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 attired. Now their weapons are — 
 long bowes and forked arrows, swords and targets, harque- 
 busses, muskets, durks, and Lochaber axes. With these 
 arms 1 found many of them armed for the hunting. As for 
 their attire, any man, of what degree soever, 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 
 
xxxvi NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 be plentiful. This was the reason that I found so many no- 
 blemen and gentlemen in those shapes. But to proceed to 
 the hunting : 
 
 " My good Lord of Marr having put me into that shape, 
 I rode with him from his house, where I saw the ruins of an 
 old castle, called the castle of Kindroghit. It was built by 
 King Malcolm Canmore, (for a hunting house,) who reigned 
 in Scotland, when Edward the Confessor, Harold, and Nor- 
 man William, reigned in England. I speak of it, because 
 it was the last house I saw in those parts ; for I was the 
 space of twelve days after, before I saw either house, corn- 
 field, or habitation for any creature, but deer, wild horses, 
 wolves, and such like creatures, — Avhich made me doubt thac 
 I should never have seen a house again. 
 
 " Thus, the first day, we travelled eight miles, where there 
 were small cottages, built on purpose to lodge in, which 
 they call Lonquhards. I thank my good Lord Erskine, he 
 commanded that I should always be lodged in his lodging : 
 the kitchen being always on the side of a bank ; many ket- 
 tles and pots boiling, and many spits turning and Avinding, 
 with great variety of cheer, — as venison baked ; sodden, rost 
 and stewed beef; mutton, goats, kid, hares, fresh salmon, 
 pigeons, hens, capons, chickens, partridge, muir-coots, heath- 
 cocks, caperkellies, and termagants ; good ale, sacke, white 
 and claret, tent, (or allegant) Avith most potent aquavitae. 
 
 " All these, and more than these, we had continually in 
 superfluous abundance, caught by faulconers, fowlers, fishers, 
 and brought by my lord's tenants and purveyors to victual 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xxxvii 
 
 our camps, which consisteth of fourteen or fifteen hundred 
 men and horses. The manner of the hunting is this : Five or 
 six hundred men do rise early in the morning, and they do 
 disperse themselves divers ways, and seven, eight, or ten 
 miles compass, they do bring, or chase in the deer, in many 
 herds, (two, three, or four hundred in a herd,) to such or 
 such a place, as the noblemen shall appoint them ; then, 
 when day is come, the lords and gentlemen of their compa- 
 nies do ride or go to the said places, sometimes wading up 
 to the middles, through burns and rivers ; and then, they be- 
 ing come to the place, do lie down on the ground, till those 
 foresaid scouts, which are called the Tinkhell, do bring 
 down the deer : But, as the proverb says of a bad cook, so 
 these tinkhell-men do lick their own fingers ; for, besides 
 their bows and arrows, which they carry with them, we can 
 hear, now and then, a harquebuss or a musket go off, Avhich 
 they do seldom discharge in vain. Then, after we had staid 
 there three hours, or thereabouts, we might perceive the 
 deer appear on the hills round about us, (their heads making 
 a shew like a wood) which, being followed close by the 
 tinkhell, are chased down into the valley where we lay ; 
 then all the valley, on each side, being way-laid with a hun- 
 dred couple of strong Irish greyhounds, fhey are all let loose, 
 as occasion serves, upon the herd of deer, that, with dogs, 
 guns, arrows, durks, and daggers, in the space of two hours, 
 fourscore fat deer were slain ; which after are disposed of, 
 some one way, and some another, twenty and thirty miles, 
 
xxxviii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 and more than enough left for us, to make merry withal, 
 at our rendezvous." 
 
 Note II. 
 
 ■ : — Yarrow, 
 
 Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. — P. 62. 
 The tale of the Outlaw Murray, who' held out Newark 
 Castle 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 mentioned, that the citizens assisted him to sup- 
 press this dangerous outlaw. 
 
 Notelll. 
 
 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 witli a 
 smaller lake, called the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded 
 by mountains. 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 
 Dryhope I'ower, 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 Wal- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xxxix 
 
 ter Scott of Harden, no less renowned for his depredations, 
 than his bride for her beauty. Her romantic appellation 
 was, in latter days, with equal justice, conferred on Miss 
 Mary Lilias Scott, the last of the elder branch of the Har- 
 den family. 'J'he editor well remembers the talent and spi- 
 rit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, thougli age had then in- 
 jured the charms which procured her the name. The Avords 
 usually sung to the air of " Tweedside," beginning, " What 
 beauties does Flora disclose," were composed in her honour. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
 Hath laid our Lady's chapel low. — P. 68. 
 The chapel of Saint Mary of the Lowes [de lacuhus) was 
 situated on the eastern side of the lake, to which it gives 
 name. It was injured by the clan of Scott, in a feud with 
 the Cranstouns ; but continued to be a place of worship du- 
 ring the seventeenth century. The vestiges of the building 
 can now scarcely be traced ; but the burial ground is still 
 used as a cemetery. A funeral, in a spot so very retired, has 
 an uncommonly striking effect. The vestiges of the chap- 
 lain's house are yet visible. Being in a high situation, it 
 pommanded a full view of the lake, with the opposite moun- 
 tain of Bourhope, belonging, with the lake itself, to Lord 
 Napier. On the left hand is the tower of Dryhope, men- 
 tioned in the preceding note. 
 
xl ■ NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 the wizard's grave ; 
 
 That wizard priest's, whose hones are thrust 
 
 From company of holy dust. — P. 70. 
 At one corner of the burial ground of the demohshed 
 chapel, but without its precincts, is a small mound, called 
 Binram's corse, where tradition deposits the remains of a 
 necromantic priest, the former tenant of the chaplainry. 
 His story much resembles that of Ambrosio in the " Monk," 
 and has been made the theme of a ballad, by my friend Mr 
 James Hogg, more poetically designed the Ettricke Shep- 
 herd. To his volume, entitled the " Mountain Bard," which 
 contains this, and many other legendary stories and ballads 
 of great merit, I refer the curious reader. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Wild Loch-skene. — P. 72. 
 A mountain lake, of considerable size, at the head of the 
 !Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncommon- 
 ly savage ; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many 
 ages, built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. Loch- 
 skene discharges itself into a brook, which, after a short and 
 precipitate course, falls from a cataract of immense height, 
 and gloomy grandeur, called, from its appearance, the 
 ^' Grey Mares Tail." The " Giant's Grave," afterwards 
 •mentioned, is a sort of trench, wliich bears that name, a 
 
 8 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xli 
 
 little way from the foot of the cataract. It has the appear- 
 ance of a battery designed to command the pass. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 IVlierefrom high Jf'hitbi/'s cloistered pile. 
 Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle. — P. 78. 
 
 The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleave- 
 land, on the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in 
 consequence of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. 
 It contained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine or- 
 der ; but, contrary to what was usual in such establish- 
 ments, the abbess was superior to the abbot. The monas- 
 tery was afterwards ruined by the Danes, and rebuilded by 
 Wilham Percy in tiie 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 monas- 
 tery, and from its having been the episcopal seat of the see 
 of Durham during the early ages of British Christianity. 
 A succession of holy men held that office ; but their merits 
 were swallowed up in the superior fame of St Cuthbert, who 
 was sixth bishop of Durham, and who bestowed the name 
 of his " patrimony" 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, hoAvever, there are pointed windows, which 
 
 I 
 
xlii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 indicate that the building has been repaired at a period long 
 subsequent to the original foundation. The exterior orna- 
 ments 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 surrounded 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. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 Then JVIiitbi/'s mms, exulting, told. 
 How to their house three Barons bold 
 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 
 Account," printed and circulated at Whitby : " In the fif?!i 
 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 Al- 
 latson, did, on the l6th 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 
 Eskd ale-side ; and the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, 
 these young gentlemen being met, with their hounds and 
 boar-staves, in the place before mentioned, and there having 
 found a great wild boar, the hounds ran him well near about 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xliii 
 
 the chape] and hermitage of Eskdale-side, where was a monk 
 of Whitby, who was an hermit. The boar being verj^ 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 medita- 
 tions and prayers, the hounds standing at bay without. The 
 gentlemen, in tl;e 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, Avhereby 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 sanc- 
 tuary ; whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to 
 be privileged, 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 ab- 
 bot, 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 surely die for the same.' 
 But the hermit answered, ' Not so, for I will freely forgive 
 them my death, if ihey will be content to be enjoined the 
 
xliY NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 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 
 manner : That, upon Ascension-day, you, or some of you, 
 shall come to the wood of the Stray-heads, which is in Esk- 
 dale-side, the same day at sun-rising, and there shall the ab- 
 bot'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 ye- 
 thers, to be cut by you, or some for 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 nine 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 service 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 ye- 
 ther 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 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. silv 
 
 for mercy, repent unfeignedly of your sins, and do good 
 works. The officer of Eskdaie-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 moreover these words : ' In manus tuas. Do- 
 mine, commendo spiritum meum, a vinculis enim mortis rtdemptis- 
 ti me, Domine veritatis. Atnen.' — So he yielded up the ghost 
 the eighth day of December, anno Domini lloP? whose soul 
 God have mercy upon. Amen. 
 
 " This service," it is added, " still continues to be per- 
 formed with the prescribed ceremonies, though not by the 
 proprietors in person. Part of the lands charged therewith 
 are now held by a gentleman of the name of Herbert." 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 The lovely Edelfled.—V. 91. 
 She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to 
 heaven for the great victory which he won in Q55, against 
 
xhi 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 
 Whitby, of which St Hilda was then abbess. She afterwards 
 adorned the place of her education with great magnifi- 
 cence. 
 
 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 TVJiitb 's towers they sail. — P. 91. 
 These two miracles are much insisted upon by all an- 
 cient writers, who have occasion to mention either Whitb}^ 
 or St Hilda. The reliques of the snakes which infested the 
 precincts of the convent, and were, at the abbess's prayer, not 
 only beheaded, but petrified, are still found about the rocks, 
 and are termed by Protestant fossilists Atnmonitce. 
 
 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 hikes 
 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 neigh- 
 bouring fields hereabouts : a relation I should not have 
 made, if I had not received it from several credible men. 
 But those who are less inclined to heed superstition, attri- 
 bute it to some occult quality in the ground, and to some- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 XlVil 
 
 what of antipathy between it and the geese, such as they 
 say is between wolves and scylla-roots : For that such hid- 
 den tendencies and aversions, as we call sympathies and an- 
 tipathies, are implanted in many things by provident na- 
 ture for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident, that 
 every body grants- it." The geese, it is almost unnecessa- 
 ry to add, have now forgot their obeisance to Saint Hilda, 
 or their antipathy to the soil, and fly over Whitby with as 
 little difficulty as any where else. 
 
 Note Xr. 
 
 His body's resting-place, of old. 
 
 How oft their patron changed, they told. — P. 92. 
 St Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of 
 the most mutable and unreasonable saints in the Calen- 
 dar. He died A. D. 686, in a hermitage upon the Fame 
 Islands, having resigned the bishopric of Lindisfarne, or 
 Holy Island, about two years before. His body was 
 brought to Lindisfarne, where it remained until a descent 
 of the Danes, about 763, when the monastery was near- 
 ly destroyed. The monks fled to Scotland, with what 
 they deemed their chief treasure, the reliques of St Cuth- 
 bert. The Saint was, however, a most capricious fellow- 
 traveller ; Avhich was the more intolerable, as, like Sinbad's 
 Old Man of the Sea, he journeyed upon the shoulders of liis 
 companions. They paraded him through Scotland for seve- 
 ral years, and came as far west as Whithern, in Galloway, 
 whence they attempted to sail for Ireland, but were driven 
 
xlvili NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 back by tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham ; 
 from thence he went to MelrosCj where he remained station- 
 ary for a short time, and then caused himself to be launch- 
 ed upon the Tweed in a stone-coffin, which landed him at 
 Tillmouth, in Northumberland. 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 Till- 
 mouth. 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 con- 
 tinuing 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 immovable 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. 
 
 3 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xlix 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 Ev€7i Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, ^-c. 
 Before his standard Jied, — P. 93. 
 Every one has heard, that when David I., with his sou 
 Henry, invaded Northumberland in 1136, the Enghsh host 
 marched against them under the holy banner of St Cuth- 
 bert ; to the efficacy of which was imputed the great victory 
 which they obtained in the bloody battle of Northallerton, 
 or Cuton-moor. The conquerors were at least as much in- 
 debted to the jealousy and intractability of the different 
 tribes who composed David's army ; among whom, as men- 
 tioned in the text, were the Galwegians, the Britons of 
 Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviotdale and Lothian, with ma- 
 ny 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 manner 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 Al- 
 fred, Avhen lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and pro- 
 
 g 
 
1 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 mised him assistance and victory over his heathen enemies : 
 a consolation which, as was reasonable, Alfred, after the vic- 
 tory of Ashendown, rewarded, by a royal offering at the 
 shrine of the Saint. As to William the Conqueror, the ter- 
 ror spread before his army, when he marched to punish the 
 revolt of the Northumbrians, in IO96, 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 Avith heat and sickness, accompanied with such a 
 panic terror, that, notwithstanding there was a sumptuous 
 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. 
 
 to" 
 
 Note XIV. 
 
 St Cuthbert sits^ and toils to fr cane 
 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 for- 
 ging those Entrochi which are found among the rocks of Ho- 
 ly Island, and pass there by the name of St Cuthbert's 
 Beads. While at this task, he is supposed to sit during the 
 night vipon a certain rock, and use another as his anvil. 
 
 10 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. li 
 
 This story was perhaps credited in former days ; at least 
 the Saint's legend contains some not more probable. 
 
 Note XV. 
 
 Old Colwulf.—?. 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 
 History." 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 pe- 
 nance-vault does not correspond with his character ; for it is 
 recorded among his memorabilia, that, finding the air of the 
 island raw and cold, he indulged the monks, whose rule had 
 hitherto confined them to milk or water, with the comfort- 
 able privilege of using wine or ale. If any rigid antiquary 
 insists on this objection, he is Avelcome to suppose the pe- 
 nance-vault was intended, by the founder, for the more ge- 
 nial purposes of a cellar. 
 
 These penitential-vaults were the Geissel-gewolbe of German 
 convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monastic 
 discipline, 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 al- 
 so served as places of meeting for the chapter, when mea- 
 sures of uncommon severity were to be adopted. But their 
 most frequent use, as implied by the name, was as places 
 for performing penances, or undergoing punishment. 
 
Bi NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Note XVI. 
 
 Tynemouth's haughty Prioress. — P. 98. 
 That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is cer- 
 tain. Its ruins are situated on a high rocky pouit; and, 
 doubtless, many a vow was made the shrine by the distress- 
 ed mariners, who drove towards the iron-bound coast of Nor- 
 thumberland in stormy weatlicr. It was anciently a nunne- 
 ry ; for Virca, abbess 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 AVhitby, and of Holy Island, the introduction of 
 nuns at Tynemouth, in the reign of Henry VIII., is an ana- 
 chronism. The nunnery at Holy Island is altogether ficti- 
 tious. Indeed, St Cuthbert was unlikely to permit such an 
 establishment ; for, notwithstanding his accepting the mor- 
 tuary gifts above mentioned, and his carrying on a visiting 
 acquaintance with the abbess of Coldingham, he certainly 
 hated the whole female sex ; and, in revenge of a slippery 
 trick played to him by an Irish princess, he, after death, in- 
 flicted severe penances on such as presumed to approach 
 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 Ro- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. Kii 
 
 man vestals in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to 
 inclose their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the 
 convent ; a slender pittance of food and water was deposit- 
 ed in it, and the awful words, Vade in Pacem, were the 
 signal for immuring the criminal. It is not likely that, in 
 latter times, this punishment was often resorted to ; but, 
 among the ruins of the abbey of Coldingham, were some 
 years ago discovered the remains of a female skeleton, 
 which, from the shape of the niche, and position of the fi- 
 gure, seemed to be that of an immured nun. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 . Note I. 
 
 The village Inn. — P. 135. 
 The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the 
 l6th century, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable 
 tale of " The Friars of Berwick." Simon Xawder, " 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 Bour- 
 deaux wine. At least, if the Scottish inns M^ere not good, it 
 was not for want of encouragement 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 iim-keepers, 
 should receive such travellers, under the penalty of forty 
 shillings for exercising such hospitality.* But, in spite of 
 
 * James I. Pailiament I. cap. 24. ; Parliament III. cap. 56. 
 
Ivi NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but in- 
 different, and stranger-, continue to find reception in the 
 houses of individuals. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 The death of a dear friend. — P. 145. 
 Among other omens to which iaithful credit is given 
 among the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the " dead- 
 bell," explained, by my friend James Hogg, to be that tink- 
 ling in the ears which the country people regard as the se- 
 cret intelligence of some friend's decease. He tells a story 
 to the purpose in the " Mountain Bard," p. 26. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 The Goblin Hall.—V. 151. 
 A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of GifFord, or 
 Tester, (for it bears either name indifferently,) the construc- 
 tion of which has, from a very remote period, been ascribed 
 to magic, llie Statistical Account of the Parish of Gar- 
 vald and Baro, gives the following account of the present 
 state of this castle and apartment: " Upon a penmsula, 
 formed by the water of Hopes on the east, and a large rivu- 
 let on the west, stands the ancient castle of Yester. Sir 
 David Dalrymple, in his Annals, relates, that ' Hugh Gif- 
 ford 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, /. e. Hobgoblin Hall.' A stair of twenty- 
 four steps led down to this apartment, which is a large and 
 
KOTES TO CANTO THIRD. Ivii 
 
 spacious hall, with an arched roof; and though it hath 
 stood for so many centuries, and been exposed to the exter- 
 nal air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is still as firm 
 and entire 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 Yes- 
 ter was the last fortification, in this country, that surrender- 
 ed to General Gray, sent into Scotland by Protector Somer- 
 set." Statistical Account, Vol. XIII. I have only to add, 
 that, in 1737, the Goblin Hall was tenanted by the Mar- 
 quis 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 For- 
 dun, whose words are, — " A. D. mcclxvii, Hugo Giffard dc 
 Yester moritur ; cujus castrum, ve I saltern caveaiiiy et dongionati, 
 arte dcemonicit antiqucE relationes ferunt fahrifacias : nain ibi- 
 dem habetur mirabilis specus subterraneus, opere mirijico con- 
 structus, magno terrarum spatio protelafus, qui cominuniter 
 IBO-^all appellatus est." Lib. X. cap. 21. — Sir David conjec- 
 tures, that Hugh de Gifford must have been either a very 
 wise man, or a great oppressor. 
 
Iviii 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 tlie Firth of 
 Clyde with a powerful armament, and made a descent at 
 Largs, in Ayrshire. Here he was encountered and defeat- 
 ed, 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. 
 
 NoteV. 
 
 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 pyramids, 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 cabal- 
 istical names, with crosses, trines,'and circles, inscribed on 
 them, t 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 Discourse concerning 
 Devils and Spirits, annexed to Reginald Scott's Discove- 
 ry of Witchcraft, edition 1665. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. lix 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Upon his breast a pentacle. — P. 153. 
 " A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five cor- 
 ners, according to the five senses, and suitably inscribed 
 with characters. This the magician extends towards the 
 spirits which he evokes, when they are stubborn and rebel- 
 lious, and refuse to be conformable unto the ceremonies 
 and rites of magic." See the Discourse, &c. above mention- 
 ed, p. QQ. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 As horn upon that blessed night, 
 When yawning graves, and dying groans, 
 Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown. — P. 155. 
 It is a popular article of faith, that those who are born 
 on Christmas, or Good-Friday, have the power of seeing 
 spirits, and even of commanding them. The Spaniards im- 
 puted the haggard and down-cast looks of their Philip II., 
 to the disagreeable visions to which this privilege subjected 
 tim. 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 Yet still the mighty spear and shield. 
 The eljin warrior doth wield 
 
 XJpon the brown hill's breast. — P. l6l. 
 The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Su- 
 perstitions, in " The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," 
 
 •;* 
 
Jx NOTES TO CAxNTO THIRD. 
 
 Vol. 11. , will shew whence many of the particulars of the 
 combat between Alexander III. and the Goblin Knight are 
 derived : 
 
 " Gervase of Tilbury (Otia Imperial, ap. Script, rer. Briins- 
 vic, Vol. I. p. 797-) relates the following popular story con- 
 cerning a fairy knight : ' Osbert, a bold and powerful ba- 
 ron, visited a noble family in the vicinity of Wandlebur}^ 
 in the bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related in the 
 social circle of his friends, who, according to custom, amu- 
 sed 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 immediately encountered by a spirit 
 in the form of a knight. Osbert resolved to make the ex- 
 periment, and set out, attended by a single squire, whom he 
 ordered to remain without the limits of the plain, which was 
 suiTOunded by an ancient entrenchment. On repeating the 
 challenge, he was instantly assailed by an adversary, whom 
 he quickly unhorsed, and seized the reins of his steed. Du- 
 ring this operation, his ghostly opponent sprung up, and, 
 darting his spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, 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 accoutrements, and ap- 
 parently of great beauty and vigour. He remained with 
 his keeper till cock-crowing, when, Avith eyes flashing fire, 
 he reared, spurned the ground, and vanished. On disarm- 
 ing himself, Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIllD. ki 
 
 that one 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. De- 
 spising 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 returning to the spot next morning, he 
 found the mangled corpses of the knight and steed." — Hie' 
 rarchie of Blessed Angels, p. 554. 
 
 Besides the instances of Elfin Chivalry, above quoloil, 
 many others might be alleged in support of employing Fairy 
 machinery in this manner. The forest of Glenmore, in the 
 North Highlands, is believed to be haunted by a spirit call- 
 ed 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 clergyman, who makes up an account of the dis- 
 trict, extant in the Macfarlane IMS., in tlie Advocates' Li- 
 brary, gravely assures us, that, in his time, Lham-dearg 
 fuusht with three brothers whom he met in his walk, none 
 of whom long survived the ghostly conflict. Baiclay, in 
 his " Euphormion," gives a singular account of an officer 
 who had ventured, with his servant, rather to intrude upon 
 a haunted house, in a town in Flanders, than to put up with 
 
Ixii NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 worse quarters elsewhere. After taking the usual precau- 
 tions 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 separate- 
 ly. The members rolled together, united themselves 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 
 easily believe, little effect on an enemy who possessed such 
 powers of self-union ; nor did his efforts make more effectual 
 impression 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 proposal, that they should renounce their redemption ; 
 Avhich being 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 
 Convent. Dunelm. per T. C. extract., whom I believe to have 
 been Thomas Cradocke, Esq. barrister, who held several of- 
 fices luider the see of Durham an hundred years ago. ^ Mr 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. Ixiii 
 
 Gill was possessed of most of his manuscripts." The ex- 
 tract, which, in fact, suggested the introduction of the tale 
 into the present poem, runs thus : 
 
 " Rem miram hujusmodi qiicE nostris temporihus evenit, teste 
 viro nohili acjide dignissimo, enarrare hand pigehit. Radulphiis 
 Buhner, cum e castris qua. tunc tcmporis propc Norham posita 
 erant, oblectationis causa exiissit, ac in ulteriore Tuedce ripd 
 pradam cicm canihus leporariis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto 
 ^icodam nohili, sibi antehac ut videbatur famiUariter cognito, 
 congressus est ; ac lit fas erat inter inimicos, flagrante bellOf 
 brevissimd interrogationis mora interpositd, alterutros inviceni 
 incitato cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, pri?no occursu, 
 equo pra acerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terr'am eversus 
 pectore et capite Iceso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomebat. 
 Quern ut sc cegre hahentem comiter allocutus est alter, pollici- 
 tusque modo auxilium nan abnegaret, mo7iitisque obtemperans ah 
 omni rerum sacrarum cogitatione abstineret, nee Deo, Deiparce 
 Vij'gini, Sanctove ullo, preces aut vota efferret vel inter sese 
 conciperet, se brevi eum sanum validumque restiturum esse. 
 Free angore ohlata conditio accepta est ; ac veterator ille nes~ 
 do quid obsccEni murmuris insusurrans, prehensa manu, dicto ci- 
 tius in pedes sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem, maxi- 
 ma prce rei inaudita novitate formidine perculsus. Mi Jesu ! 
 exclamat, vel qiiid simile ; ac subite respiciens nee hostem nee ul- 
 lum alium conspieit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu aflic- 
 tum, per summatn pacem in rivo fluvii pascentem. Ad castra 
 itaque mirabundus revertens, fldei duhius, rem primo occul- 
 tavit, dein confecto hello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Delu- 
 
Ixiv NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 ftoria pi'ocid diihio res iota, ac mala vderatoris illius aperitur 
 fraiis, qua homincm Chvistianwn ad vetitum talc auxilium pel- 
 liceret. Nomen atcunque illius (nobilis alias ac clari) reti- 
 cendum duco, cum kaud duhium sit quin Diabolus, Deo permit- 
 tente,formani quatti libuont, imnio angeli lucis, sacra oculo Dei 
 teste, posse assumere" The MS. chronicle, from which Mr 
 Cradocke took this curious extract, cannot now be found in 
 the chapter library of Durham, or, at least, has hitherto es- 
 caped the researches of my friendly correspondent. 
 
 Lindesay is made to allude to this adventure of Ralph 
 Bulmer, as a well known story, in the ^th Canto, Stanza 
 XXII. p. 210. 
 
 The northern champions of old were accustomed pecu- 
 liarly to search for, and delight in, encounters with such mi- 
 litary spectres. See a whole chapter on the subject in 
 • Bartiiolinus De Causis cojitempta Mortis a Danis, p. 253. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Close to the hit, no move 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 ^vritten, 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 Ashes- 
 tiel. 
 
 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 by his friends, as well as in the general respect and 
 esteem of Scotland at large. His " Life ot Beattie," whom 
 he befriended and patronized in life, as well as celebrated 
 
Ixvl NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 after his decease, was not long published before the bene- 
 volent and affectionate biographer was called to follow the 
 subject of his narrative. The same melancholy event very 
 shortly succeeded the marriage of the friend to whom this 
 introduction is addressed, with one of Sir William's daugh- 
 ters. 
 
 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 
 scullion, 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 hy friars lanthorn led. 
 
 " The History of Friar Rush" is of extreme rarity, and, 
 for some time, even the existence of such a book was doubt- 
 ed, 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 ob- 
 serve, from Mr Belpe's " Anecdotes of Literature," that 
 there is one in the excellent collection of the Marquis of 
 
 Stafford. 
 
 i 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ix\'li 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
 Lord Lion King-at-arms. — P. 195. 
 The late elaborate edition of Sir David Lindesay 's Works, 
 by Mr (Jeorge Chalmers, has probably introduced him to 
 many of my readers. It is perhaps to be regretted, that the 
 learned editor had not bestowed more pains in elucidating 
 his author, even although he should have omitted, or at least 
 reserved, his disquisitions on the origin of the language used 
 by the poet : * But, with all its faults, his work is an ac- 
 
 * I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting passage. 
 Sir l>avicl, recounting his attention to King James V., in tiis intancy, is made, 
 by the learned editor's punctuation, to say, — 
 
 The first sillabis, that thoii did mute 
 Was pd, da, lyB,.upon the lute ; 
 Then plajd I twenty spriogis perqueir, 
 Qubiik was great plesour for to hear. 
 
 Vol. I. p. 7. 25T. 
 
 Mr Chalmers does not infoim us, by note, or glossary, what is meant by the 
 Icing " muting pa, da, lyn, upon the lute;" but any old woman in Scotland will 
 bear witness, that pa, da, Jyn, are the first efforts of a child to say. Wharfs 
 Davie Lindesay^ and that the subsequent words begin another sentence, — 
 
 ' upon the lute 
 
 Theo playd 1 twenty spriogis perqueir, &c. 
 
 In another place, "justing lumis," i. e. looms, or implements of tilting, is fa- 
 cetiously interpreted " playful limbs." Many such minute errors could be 
 pointed out; but these are only mentioned incidentally, and not as diminish- 
 ing the real merit of the edition. 
 
Ixviii NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 ceptable present to Scottish antiquaries. Sir David Linde- 
 say Avas well known for kis early efforts in favour of the re- 
 formed doctrines ; and, indeed, his play, coarse as it now 
 seems, must have had a powerful effect upon the people of 
 his age. I am uncertain if I abuse poetical license, b_y in- 
 troducing Sir David IJndesay in the character of Lion- He- 
 rald, sixteen years before he obtained that office. At any 
 rate, 1 am not the first who has been guilty of the anachron- 
 ism ; for the author of " Flodden Field" dispatches Dalla- 
 mount, which can mean nobody but Sir David de la Mont, 
 to France, on the message of defiance from James 1\ . to 
 Henry VIII. It was often an office imposed on the Lion 
 King-at-arms, to receive foreign embassadors ; and Linde- 
 say himself did this honour to Sir Ealph Sadler in 1539-40. 
 Indeed, the oath of the Lion, in its first article, bears refe- 
 rence to his frequent employment upon royal messages and 
 embassies. 
 
 The office of heralds, in feudal times, being held of the 
 utmost importance, the inauguration of the Kings-at-arms, 
 who presided over their colleges, was proportionally solemn. 
 In fact, it was the mimicry of a royal coronation, except 
 that the unction was made with wine instead of oil. In 
 Scotland, a namesake and kinsman of Sir David Lindesay, 
 inaugurated in 1592, " was crowned by King James with the 
 ancient crown of Scotland, which was used before the Scot- 
 tish kings assumed a close crown ;" and, on occasion of 
 the same solemnity, dined at the king's table, wearing the 
 crown. It is probable that the coronation of his predeces- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixix 
 
 sor was not less solemn. So sacred was the herald's office, 
 that, in 1515, Lord Drummond was by parliament decla- 
 red guilty of treason, and his lands forfeited, because he had 
 struck, with his fist, the Lion King-at-arms, when he repro- 
 ved him for his follies.* Nor was he restored, but at the 
 Lion's earnest solicitation. 
 
 NoteV. 
 
 Crichton Castle— F. 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 difi'erent times, and with a very differing regard 
 to splendour and acconmiodation. The oldest part of the 
 building is a narrow keep, or tower, such as formed the 
 mansion of a lesser Scottish baron ; but so many additions 
 have been made to it, that there is now a large court-yard, 
 surrounded by buildings of different ages. The eastern 
 front of the court is raised above a portico, and decorated 
 with entablatures, bearing anchors. All the stones of this 
 front are cut into diamond facets, the angular projections of 
 which have an uncommonly rich appearance. Ihe inside 
 of this part of the building appears to have contained a gal- 
 lery of great length, and uncommon elegance. Access was 
 given to it by a magnificent stair-case, now quite destroyed. 
 
 * The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the cause of 
 forfeiture to be, — " Eo quod Leonem armoium Regern pu;j,no violasset, duin eum 
 de inept'us suh admoiiet." See Nisbet's Heraldry, Part IV. chap. l6.; aad 
 Lesljei Hutoria ad Annum 1515. 
 
Isx NOTES TO CANTO FOURTIT. 
 
 The soffits are ornamented with twining cordage and ro- 
 settes ; and the whole seems fo have been far more splendid 
 than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle belonged ori- 
 ginally to the Chancellor Sir William Crichton, and proba- 
 bly 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, be- 
 headed in Edinburgh Castle, with his brother, in 1440. It 
 is said to have been totally demolished on that occa- 
 sion ; but the present state of the ruins shews the contra- 
 ry. In 1483, it was gamsoned by Lord Crichton, then its 
 proprietor, against King James 111., 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 
 Hcpburns, Earl Bothwell ; and when the forfeitures of Stew- 
 art, 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 Clif- 
 ton, and are now that of Sir John Callander, Baronet. It 
 were to be wished the proprietor would take a little pains 
 to preserve these splendid remains of antiquity, which are 
 at present used as a fold for sheep, and wintering cattle ; al- 
 though, perhaps, there are very few ruins in Scotland which 
 display so well the stile and beauty of ancient castle-archi- 
 tecture. I'he castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, calltd 
 the Massy More. The epithet, which is not uncommonly 
 applied to the prisons of other old castles in Scotland, is of 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixn 
 
 Saracenic origin. It occurs twice in the " Epistolct Itinera- 
 rice" of ToUius : " Career subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appel- 
 lant, Mazmoura," p. 147.; and again, " Coguntur omnes 
 Captivi sub noctem in ergastula subterranea, qucB Tiirca Alge- 
 zerani vacant M a z mo eras," p. 243. The same word ap- 
 plies 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. IQQ. 
 He was the second Earl of Bothwell, and fell in the field 
 of Flodden, where, according to an ancient English poet, 
 he distinguished 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! 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. 
 
IxxiJ NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 For that a messejiger from heaven. 
 In vain to James had counsel given 
 Against the English war. — P. 200. 
 
 This story is told by Pitscottie with characteristic simpli- 
 city : " The king, seeing that France could get no support 
 of him for that time, made a proclamation, full hastily, 
 through all the realm of Scotland, both east and west, south 
 and north, as Avell in the Isles as in the firm land, to all 
 manner of man betwixt sixty and sixteen years, that they 
 should be ready, within twenty days, to pass with him, with 
 forty days victual, and to meet at the Burrow-muir of Edin- 
 burgh, and there to pass forward where he pleased. His 
 proclamations were hastily obeyed, contrary the Council of 
 Scotland's will ; but every man loved his prince so well, that 
 they would, on no w:iys, disobey him ; but every man cau- 
 sed make his proclamation so hastily, conform to the charge 
 of the king's proclamation. 
 
 " The king came to Lithgow, where he happened to be 
 for the time at the Council, very sad and dolorous, making 
 his devotion to God, to send him good chance and fortune 
 in his voyage. In this mean time, there came a man clad 
 in a blue gown in at the kirk-door, and belted about him 
 in a roll ot linen-cloth ; a pair of brotikings * on his feet, to 
 the great of his legs ; with all other hose and clothes conform 
 
 * Buskins. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixxiu 
 
 thereto : but he had nothing on his head, but syde * red yel- 
 low hair behind, and on his haffets,-j- 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 for\vard among the lords, crying 
 and speiring 1^ for the king, saying, he desired to speak with 
 him. While, at the last, he came where the king was sit- 
 ting in the desk at his prayers ; but when he saw the king, 
 he made him little reverence or salutation, but leaned down 
 grotling on the desk before him, and said to him in this 
 manner, as after follows : ' Sir king, my mother hatli sent 
 me to you, desiring you not to pass, at this time, Avhere thou 
 art purposed ; for if thou docs, 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 vanish- 
 ed away, and could no ways be seen nor 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-herauld, and John Inglis the 
 
 * Long. t Cheeks. % Asking. § Meddle. 
 
 k 
 
Ixxiv NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 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 iiave 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 in- 
 formation of our Sir David Lindesay : " In lis (i. e. qtn pro- 
 prius astiterant) fidi David Lindesius, Montanus, homo spec-' 
 tatcejidei et probitatis, nee a literarum studiis aliemis, et cujus 
 tot(S vita tenor longissime a mentiendo aherrat ; a quo nisi ego 
 haec uti tradidi, pro certis accepissem, ut vulgatam vanis rumo- 
 ribus fabulam, omissurus tram" — Lib. XIII. The king's 
 throne, in St Catherine's aisle, which he had constructed for 
 himself, with twelve stalls for the Knights Companions 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 moni- 
 tor of James IV. ; for the expression 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 mi- 
 racle or an imposture. Mr Pinkerton plausibly argues, from 
 the caution against incontinence, that the queen Avas privy 
 to the scheme of those who had recourse to this expedient 
 to deter King James from his impolitic warfare. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH, IjixV 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 The wild buck hells.— V. 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 Psahns. £e// 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 Thon\'\s Wortley, built W antley 
 Lodge, in Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure (as an ancient 
 inscription testifies,) of " hstening 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 Avoman and water pitcher, and was 
 slain, it is not well understood by Avhom. 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. 
 
Jxxvi 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 inhabi- 
 tants of Edinburgh had permission granted to them of build- 
 ing wooden galleries, projecting over the street, in order to 
 encourage them to consume the timber ; which they seem to 
 have done very eifectually. When James IV. mustered the 
 array of the kingdom there, in 1513, the Borough-Moor 
 was, according to Hawlhornden, " a field spacious, and de- 
 lightful by the shade of many stately and aged oaks." 
 Upon that, and similar occasions, the royal standard is tra- 
 ditionally 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 
 Bruntsfield-links. The Hare Stone probably derives its 
 name from the British word Har, signifying an army. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 O'er the pavilions jlew. — 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 pavilions, or round houses, of any commendable compas. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixxvii 
 
 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 toward 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 com- 
 mon 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 beneath stuck 
 in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like the 
 bo we 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 
 beneath 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 Accotmt of Somev' 
 set^s Expedition. 
 
Ixxviii NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 in proud Scotland's royal shield 
 
 The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. — P. 217. 
 The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe 
 Boethius and Buchanan, the double tressure round the 
 shield, mentioned p. 193., counter Jleur-de-lised, or lingued 
 and armed azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King of 
 Scotland, contemporary of Charlemagne, and founder of the 
 celebrated League with France ; but later antiquaries make 
 poor Eochy or Achy little better than a sort of King of 
 Brentford, whom old Grig (who has also swelled into Gre- 
 gorius Magnus,) associated with himself in the important 
 duty of governing some part of the north-eastern coast of 
 Scotland. 
 
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 enlargement of the city. Mr Thomas Camp- 
 bell 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 bor- 
 rowed 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. 
 
Ixxx NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Si7ice 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 
 family, fled to Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. 
 Queen Margaret certainly came to Edinburgh, though it 
 seems doubtful whether her husband did so. Their hospi- 
 table reception called forth on Scotland the encomium of 
 Molinet, a contemporary poet. The English people, he 
 says, — 
 
 Ung nouveau roy creirent. 
 
 Par despiteux vouloir, 
 Le vieil en debouterent, 
 
 Et so)i legitime lioir, 
 Qui fiytyf alia prendre 
 
 D'Escosse le garand, 
 De tous siecks le meiidre, 
 
 Et le phis tollerant. 
 
 Recollection des Avantures.^ 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 — the romantic strain. 
 
 Whose Anglo-Norman strains whilere 
 
 Could win the Second Henry s ear. — P. 234. 
 
 Mr Ellis, in his valuable Introduction to the " Specimens 
 
 of Romance," has proved, by the concurring testimony of 
 
 La Ravaillere, Tressan, but especially the Abbe de la Rue, 
 
 that the courts of our Anglo-Norman kings, rather than 
 
 6 
 
NOTCS TO CANTp riFTtl. . Ixxxi 
 
 those of the French monarchs, produced the birth of ro- 
 mance hterature. Marie, soon after mentioned, compi- 
 led from Armorican originals, and translated into Norman- 
 French, or romance language, the twelve curious Lays, of 
 which Mr Ellis has given us a precis in the Appendix to 
 his Introduction. The story of Blondel, the famous and 
 faithful minstrel of Richard I., needs no commentary. 
 
 NoteV. 
 
 Tlie cloth-yard arrows Jlew like hail. — P. 242. 
 Tins is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties 
 of England, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraor- 
 dinary length were actually used. The Scottish, according 
 to Aschani, had a proverb, that every English archer carried 
 under his belt twenty-four Scots,^ in allusion to his bundle 
 of unerring shafts. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
 And high curvet t, that not in vain 
 The sword-sway fnight descend amain 
 Onfoemans casque below. — P. 243. 
 " The most useful air, as the Frenchmen term it, is terri- 
 terr ; the courbettes, cabrioles, or unpas et un sault, being fitter 
 for horses of parade and triumph than for soldiers: yet I 
 cannot deny but a demivolte with courbettes, so that they be 
 not too high, may be usefull in a fight or meslee ; for, as La- 
 
 1 
 
Ixxxii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 broue hath it, in his Book of Horsemanship, Monsieur de 
 Montmorency having a horse that was excellent in perform- 
 ing the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike down two ad- 
 versaries from their horses in a tourney, where divers of the 
 prime gallants of France did meet; for, taking his time, 
 when the horse was in the height of his courhette, and dis- 
 charging a blow then, his sword fell with such weight and 
 force upon the two cavaliers, one after another, that he 
 struck them from their horses to the ground." Lord Herbert 
 of Cherhury's Life, p. 48. 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 Me saw the hardy burghers there 
 March armed, on foot, with faces bare. — P. 243. 
 The Scottish burgesses were, like yeomen, appointed to be 
 armed with bows and sheaves, sword, buckler, knife, spear, 
 or a good axe instead of a bow, if worth L. 100 : their ar- 
 mour to be of white or bright harness. They wore whitt 
 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-3'^ear, under the aldermen or bailitfs. 
 
 Note VIIT. 
 
 On foot the yeoman too. — P. 244. 
 
 Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the pea- 
 
 santi'y of Scotland, by repeated statutes ; spears and axes 
 
 seem universally to have been used instead of them. Their 
 
 defensive armour was the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantinc ; 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. Jxxxiii 
 
 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 Avas called forth, 
 each man was obliged to appear with forty days provision. 
 When this was expended, which took place before the battle 
 of Flodden, 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. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 A hanqiiet rich, afid costly wines. — P. 250. 
 In all transactions of great or petty importance, and 
 among whomsoever taking place, it would seem, that a pre- 
 sent of wine was an uniform and indispensible preliminary. 
 It was not to Sir John FalstafF alone that such an introduc- 
 tory preface was necessary, however well judged and ac- 
 ceptable on the part of Mr Brook ; for Sir Kalph Sadler, 
 while on embassy to Scotland in 1539-40, mentions, with 
 complacency, " the same night came Rothesay (the herald 
 
ixxxiv NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 SO called) to me again, and brought me wine from the king, 
 both white and red." Clifford's Edition, p. 39. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 his iron belt, 
 
 That hound his breast in penance-pain. 
 In memory of his father slain. — P. 254. 
 Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the 
 weight of which James added certain ounces every year 
 that he lived. Pitscottie founds his belief, that James was 
 not slain in the battle of Flodden, because the English ne- 
 ver had this token of the iron-belt to shew to any Scottish- 
 man. The person and character of James are delineated 
 according to our best historians. His romantic disposition, 
 which led him highly to relish gaiety, approaching to license, 
 was, at the same time, tinged with enthusiastic devotion. 
 These propensities sometimes formed a strange contrast. 
 He was wont, during his fits of devotion, to assume the 
 dress, and conform to the rules, of the order of Franciscans ; 
 and when he had thus done penance for some time in Stir- 
 ling, to plunge again into the tide of pleasure. Probably, 
 too, he sometimes laughed at the superstitious observances 
 to which he at other times subjected himself. There is a 
 very singular poem by Dunbar, seemingly addressed to 
 James IV., on one of these occasions of monastic seclusion. 
 It is a most daring and profane parody on the services of 
 the church of Rome, entitled, 
 
 Dunbar's Dirige to the King, 
 Byding ower laiig in Slriviling. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. Ixxxv 
 
 We that are here, in heaven's glory. 
 To you, that are in purgatory. 
 Commend us on our hearty wise ; 
 I mean we folks in Paradise, 
 In Edinburgh, with all merriness. 
 To you in Stirling, with distress. 
 Where neither pleasure nor delight is. 
 For pity this epistle wrytis, Sec. 
 
 See the whole in Sibbald's Collection, Vol. 1. p. 234. 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 Sir Hugh the Heron's xmfe held sway. — P. 255. 
 It has been already noticed, that King James' acquaint- 
 ance with Lady Heron of Ford did not commence until he 
 marched into England. Our historians impute to the king's 
 infatuated passion, the delays which led to the fatal defeat 
 of Flodden. The author of " The Genealogy of the Heron 
 Family" endeavours, with laudable anxiety, to clear the Lady 
 Ford from this scandal : that she came and went, however, 
 between the armies of James and Surrey, is certain. See 
 Pinkerton's History, and the authorities he refers to, 
 Vol. II. p. 99- Heron of Ford had been, in 1511, in some 
 sort accessory to the slaughter of Sir Robert Ker of Cess- 
 ford, Warden of the Middle Marches. It was committed 
 by his brother the bastard, Lilburn, and Starked, three 
 Borderers. Lilburn, and Heron of Ford, were delivered up 
 by Henry to James, and were imprisoned in the fortress of 
 Faslcastle, where the former died. Part of the pretence of 
 
ixxxvi NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Lady Ford's negotiations with James was the hberty of her 
 husband. 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 Jbr 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. — P. 255. 
 " Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the 
 King of Scotland, calling him her love, shewing him that 
 she had suffered much rebuke in France for the defending 
 of his honour. She believed surely that he would recom- 
 pense her again with some of his kingly support in her ne- 
 cessity ; that is to say, that he would raise her an army, and 
 come three foot of ground on English ground, for her sake. 
 To that effect she sent him a ring off her finger, with four- 
 teen thousand French crowns to pay his expences." Pit- 
 scoTTiE, p. 110. A turquois ring ; — probably this fatal gift 
 is, with James's sword and dagger, preserved in the College 
 of Heralds, London. 
 
 Note XIIL 
 
 Archibald Bell-the-Caf.—P. 262. 
 Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for 
 strength of body and mind, acquired the popular name of 
 Bell-the-Cat, upon the following remarkable occasion : James 
 the Third, of whom Pitscottie complains, that he delighted 
 more in music, and " policies of building," than in hunting, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. Ixxxvii 
 
 hawking, and other noble exercises, was so ill advised, as to 
 make favourites of his architects and musicians, whom the 
 same historian irreverently terms, masons and fidlers. His 
 nobility, who did not sympathize in the king's respect for the 
 fine arts, were extremely incensed at the honours conferred 
 on these persons, particularly on Cochrane, a mason, who 
 had been created Earl of Mar. And seizing the opportunity, 
 when, in 1482, the king had convoked the whole array of the 
 country to march against the English, they held a midnight 
 council in the church of Lauder, for the purpose of forcibly 
 removing these minions from the king's person. When all 
 had agreed on the propriety of the measure, Lord Gray told 
 the assembly the Apologue of the Mice ; who had formed a 
 resolution, that it would be highly advantageous to their 
 comm\uiity to tie a bell round the cat's neck, that they might 
 hear her approach at a distance ; but which public measure 
 unfortunately miscarried, from no mouse being willing to 
 undertake the task of fastening the bell, " I understand the 
 moral," said Angus, " and, that what we propose may not 
 lack execution, I Avill hell the cat." The rest of the strange 
 scene is thus told by Pitscottie : — 
 
 " By this Avas advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid, 
 Cochran, the Earl of Mar, came from the king to the coun- 
 cil, (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 IMar's men. Himself vras 
 clad in a riding-pie of black velvet, with a great cliain of 
 
Ixxxviii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 gold about his neck, to the vakie 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 before him overajilt 
 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 ruslied rude- 
 ly at the kirk-door. The council enquired who it was that 
 perturbed them at that time. Sir Robert Douglas, laird of 
 Lochlevin, was keeper of the kirk-door at that time, who 
 enquired who that was that knocked so rudely ? and Coch- 
 ran answered, " This is I, the Earl of Mar " The which 
 news pleased well the lords, because they were ready boun 
 to cause take him, 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 mis- 
 chief over long." This Cochran asked, " My lords, is it 
 mows -j- or earnest ?" They answered, and said, it is good ear- 
 
 * Rope. + Jest. 
 
 11 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. ]xxxix 
 
 nest, and so thou slialt 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 
 caused 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 
 servants, and took them and hanged them before his eyes 
 over the bridge of Lawder. Incontinent they brought forth 
 Cochran, 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 better ; and, for despight, they took a hair- 
 tether,* and hanged him over the bridge of Lawder, above 
 the rest of his complices." — Pitscottie, p. 78. folio edit. 
 
 Note XIV. 
 
 Against the xvar had Angus stood, 
 
 And chafed his royal lord. — P. 263. 
 
 Angus was an old man when the war against England was 
 
 resolved upon. He earnestly spoke against that measure 
 
 from its commencement ; and, on the eve of the battle of 
 
 Flodden, remonstrated so freely upon the impolicy of fight- 
 
 * Halter. 
 TO 
 
xc NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 ing, that the king said to him, with scorn and indignation, 
 " if he was afraid, he might go home." Tlie earl burst in- 
 to tears at this insupportable insult, and retired according- 
 ly, leaving his sons, George, master of Angus, and Sir Wil- 
 liam, of Glenbervie, to command his followers. They were 
 both slain in the battle, with two hundred gentlemen of the 
 name of Douglas. The aged earl, broken-hearted at the ca- 
 lamities of his house and his country, retired into a religious 
 house, where he died about a year after the field of Flod- 
 den. 
 
 Note XV. 
 
 Then rest you in Tantallon Hold. — P. 264. 
 The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock project- 
 ing into the German Ocean, about two miles east of North 
 Berwick. 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 Avas 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, bon'owed from the castle of Dunbar, then be- 
 longing to the Duke of Albany, two great cannons, whose 
 names, as Pitsccttie informs us with laudable minuteness, 
 were " Thrawn-moulh'd JMow and her Marrow ;" also, " two 
 great botcards and two moyan, two double falcons, and ibur 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. »ei 
 
 quarter- falcons;" for the safe guiding and redelivery of which, 
 three lords were laid in pawn at Dunbar. Yet, notwithstand- 
 ing all this apparatus, James was forced 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 ac- 
 tually afibrded refuge to an English ambassador, under cir- 
 cumstanees 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 fail- 
 ure of his negociation for matching the infant Mary with Ed- 
 ward VI. He says, that though this place was poorly fur- 
 nished, it was of such strength as might warrant him against 
 the malice of his enemies, and that he now thought himself 
 out of danger. * 
 
 There is a military tradition, that the old Scotch March 
 was meant to express the words, 
 
 Ding down Tantalloni 
 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 
 
 * The very curious State Papers of this able negooiator, are shortly to be 
 published by Mr Clifford, with some Notes, by the Author of Marmion. 
 
xcii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 in the beginning of the eighteenth century to President Dal- 
 rjmple 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, Avhich is placed betwixt them, and the date 1329, 
 being the year in which Bruce charged the Good Lord Dou- 
 glas to carry his heart to the Holy Land. The following lines 
 (the first couplet of which is quoted by Godscroft as a po- 
 pular saying in his time) are inscribed around the emblem : 
 
 So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beine. 
 Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine 
 
 I will ye charge, efter yat I depart. 
 To holy grawe, and thair bury my hart ; 
 Let it remane ever bothe tyme and howr. 
 To ye last day I sie my Saviour. 
 
 I do protest in tyme of al my ringe. 
 Ye lyk subject had never ony keing. 
 
 This curious and valuable relique was nearly lost during the 
 civil war of 1745-6, being carried away from Douglas-Castle 
 by some of those in arms for Prince Charles. But great in- 
 terest having been made by the Duke of Douglas among the 
 chief partizans of Stuart, it was at length restored. It resem- 
 bles a Highland claymore, of the usual size, is of an excel- 
 lent temper, and admirably poised. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xciii 
 
 Note XVII. 
 
 Martin Swort. — P. 273. 
 The name of this German general is preserved by that of 
 the field of battle, which is called, after him. Swart-moor. — 
 There were songs about him long current in England. — See 
 Dissertation prefixed to Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1792, page 
 lii. 
 
 Note XVIII. 
 
 Pei'chance some form a'os unobserved, 
 Perchance in point of faith he swei'ved. — P. 274. 
 It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obli- 
 ged to believe in the divine judgment being enunciated in 
 the trial by duel, to find salvos for the strange and obvi- 
 ously precarious chances of the combat. Various curious 
 evasive shifts, used by those who took up an unrighteous 
 quarrel, were supposed sufficient to convert it into a just 
 one. Thus, in the romance 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, ac- 
 cused him whom he represented. Brantome tells a story of 
 an Italian, who entered the lists upon an unjust quarrel, but, 
 to make his cause good, fled from his enemy at the first on- 
 set. " 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 
 
 7 
 
xciv NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 was unjust, and I abandon it." " Je vous laisse a penser,"^ 
 adds Brantome, " s'il nif a pas de I'ahns la." Elsewliere he 
 says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those who had 
 a righteous cause entertained of victory ; " Un autre abus y 
 avoit-il, que ceiix qui avoient tm juste subjet de querelle, et qu'oti 
 les faisoit jurer avant entrer au camp, pensoient estre auKsitost 
 vainqueuvs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du tout, niesmes que lews 
 coiijcsseurs, parrains et conjidants leurs en respondoient tout-a- 
 fait, comma si Dieu leur en eust dome une patente ; et ne re- 
 gardant point ci d'autres f antes passSes, et que Dieu en garde la 
 punition a ce coup la pour plus grande, despiteuse, et exemplaire'* 
 — Discours sur les Daels." 
 
 Note XIX. 
 
 Dun-Edin's Cross.— V. 279. 
 The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious struc- 
 ture. The lower part was an octagonal tower, sixteen feet 
 in diameter, and about fifteen feet high. At each angle 
 there was a pillar, and between them an arch, of the Gre- 
 cian shape. Above these was a projecting battlement, with 
 a turret at each corner, and medallions, of rude but curious 
 workmanship, between them. Above this rose the proper 
 Cross, a column of one stone, upwards of twenty feet high, 
 surmounted with an unicorn. This pillar is preserved at the 
 House of Drum, near Edinburgli. The Magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh, in 1756, with consent of the Lords of Session, (proh 
 pudor I) destroyed this curious monument, under a wanton 
 pretext, that it encumbered the street;, while, on the one: 
 
 10 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH xcv 
 
 hand, they left an ugly mass, called the Luckcnbooths, and, 
 on the other, an awkward, long, and low guard-house, which 
 were filly times more encumbrance than the venerable and 
 inoffensive Cross. 
 
 From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the 
 heralds published the acts of Parliament ; and its site, mark- 
 ed by radii, diverging from a stone centre, in the High Street, 
 is still the place where proclamations are made. 
 
 Note XX. 
 
 This awful summons came. — P. 281. 
 This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish 
 historians. It was probably, like the apparition at Linlith- 
 gow, an attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon 
 the superstitious temper of James IV. The following ac- 
 count from Pitscottie is characteristically minute, and fur- 
 nishes, besides, some curious particulars of the equipment 
 of the army of James IV. I need only add to it, that Plot- 
 cock, or Plutock, is no other than Pluto. The Christians of 
 the middle ages by no means disbelieved in the existence 
 of the heathen deities ; they only considered them as devils ; * 
 
 * See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the " Border Min- 
 strelsy," Vol.11., under the fourth head; also Jackson on Unbelief, p. 175. 
 Chaucer calls Pluto the " King of Faerie ;" and Dunbar names him " Pluto, that 
 elrich incubus." It" he was not actually the devil, he must be considered as the 
 " prince of the power of the air." The most remarkable instance of these sur- 
 viving classical superstitions, is that of the Germans, concerning the Hill of 
 Venus, into which she attempts to entice all gallant knights, and detains them 
 in a sort of Fools' Paradise. 
 
xcvi NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 and Plotcock, so far from implying any thing fabulous, was 
 a synonyme of the grand enemy of mankind. " Yet all thir 
 warnings, and uncouth tidings, nor no good counsel, might 
 stop the king, at this present, from his vain purpose, and 
 wicked enterprize, but hasted him fast to Edinburgh, and 
 there to make his provision and furnishing, in having forth 
 of his army against the day appointed, that they should 
 meet in the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh: That is to say, 
 seven cannons that he had forth of the castle of Edinburgh, 
 which were called the Seven Sisters, casten by Robert Borth- 
 wick, the master-gunner, with other small artillery, 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 tha 
 hour of midnight, proclaiming as it had been a summons, 
 which was named and called by the proclaimer thereof. The 
 Summons of Plotcock ; which desii'ed all men to compear^ 
 both Earl and Lord, and Baron, and all honest gentlemen 
 Avithin 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 disobedience. But whether this summons 
 was proclaimed by vain persons, 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 indweiler of the 
 town, Mr Richard Lawson, being evil-disposed, ganging in 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcvii 
 
 his gallery-stair foreanent the cross, hearing this voice pro- 
 claiming 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 was stricken, he swore to me, there 
 was no man that escaped that was called in this summons, 
 but that one man alone which made his protestation, and 
 appealed from the said summons ; but all the lave were pe- 
 rished in the field with the king." 
 
 Note XX. 
 
 Fitz-Eiistace bade them pause a while, 
 Befo7'e a venerable pile. — P. 286. 
 The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cestertian 
 nuns, near North Berwick, of which there are still some re- 
 mains. It was founded by Duncan Earl of Fife, in 121t>. 
 
 Note XXI. 
 
 That one of his own ancestry 
 Drove the Monks forth of Coventrt/. — P. 290. 
 This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de J\Iar- 
 miou, in the reign of King Stephen, whom WilUam of New- 
 
 n 
 
xcviii NOTES TO CANTO FIFIH. 
 
 bury describes -with some attributes of my fictitious hero ; 
 " Homo hellicosuSi ferocia, et astucia, fere nullo suo tempore im- 
 par." This Baron, having expelled the monks from the church 
 of Coventry, was not long of experiencing the divine judg- 
 ment, as the same monks no doubt termed his disaster. Hav- 
 ino" waaed a feudal war with the Earl of Chester, Marmion's 
 horse fell, as he charged in the van of his troop, against a 
 body of the Earl's followers : the rider's thigh being broken 
 by the fall, his head was cut oft' by a conmion foot-soldier, 
 ere he could receive any succour. The whole story is told 
 by William of Newbury. 
 
 8 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 -the savage Daiit 
 
 At lol more deep the mead did drain. — P. 299« 
 The lol of the heathen Danes, (a word still applied to 
 Christhias in Scotland,) was solemnized with great festivity. 
 The humour of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelt- 
 ing each other with bones ; and Torfaeus tells a long and cu- 
 rious 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 
 entreiK:hment, against those who continued the raillery. 
 The dances of the northern warriors round the great fires of 
 pine-trees are commemorated by Olaus Magnus, who says, 
 they danced Avith 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 occa- 
 sions, was instantly plucked 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 simg. — 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. 
 
 " Enter 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 trun- 
 cheon, 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 girdlje; his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open. 
 
 " Mincd-pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat, her man 
 carrying a pie, dish, and spoons. 
 
 " Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells; his 
 torch-bearer arm'd with cole-staflf, and blinding cloth. 
 
 «' Post and Fair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his 
 garment all done over with pairs and purs ; his squire carry- 
 ing a box, cards, and counters. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. <^ 
 
 " New-year's-gift, in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an 
 orange, and a sprig of rosemary gilt on his head, his hat full 
 of broaches, with a collar of ginger-bread ; his torch-bearer 
 carrying a march-pain, with a bottle of wine on either arm. 
 
 " Mumming, in a masquing pied suit, with a visor ; his 
 torch-bearer carrying the box, and ringing it. 
 
 " Wassail, like a neat sempster and songster; her page 
 bearing a brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, 
 before her. 
 
 " Ofering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his 
 hand ; a wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch- 
 bearer. • 
 
 " Baby Cocke, drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin, 
 bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a 
 great cake, with a bean and a pease." 
 
 Note III. 
 
 JVIio lists, may in their mumming spy 
 Traces of ancient mystery. — P. 303. 
 It seems certain, that the Mummers of England, who 
 (in Northumberland at least) used to go about in disguise to 
 the neighbouring houses, bearing the then useless plough- 
 share, and the Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, 
 present, in some indistinct degree, a shadow of the old mys- 
 teries, which were the origin of the English drama. In 
 Scotland, (me ipso teste,) we were wont, during my boy- 
 hood, to take the characters of the apostles, at least of 
 Peter, Paul, and Judas Iscariot, which last carried the bag, 
 in which the dole of our neighbours' plumb-cake was depo- 
 
di NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 sited. One plajed a Champion, and recited some traditional 
 rhymes ; another was 
 
 Alexander, king o£ Macedou, 
 
 Who conquered all the world but Scotland alone; 
 When he ( ame 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 ancient mysteries, in which the characters of scripture, 
 the Nine Worthies, and other popular personages, were usual- 
 ly exhibited. It were much to be wished, that the Chester 
 Mysteries were published from the ]\IS. in the Museum, 
 with the annotations Avhich a diligent investigator of popular 
 antiquities might still supply. The late acute and valuable 
 antiquary, Mr Ritson, showed me several memoranda to- 
 wards such a task, Avhich are probably now dispersed or lost. 
 See, however, bis Remai-ks on Shakespeare, 1783, p. 38. 
 
 Note IV, 
 
 IVJiere my great-grajuhire caine of old, 
 JVith amber heard andjiaxen hair. — P. 304. 
 Mr Scott of Harden, my kind and affectionate friend, and 
 distant relation, has the original of a poetical invitation, ad- 
 dressed 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 Har- 
 den family. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. ciii 
 
 " With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 
 
 And reverend apostolic air. 
 
 Free of anxiety and care. 
 
 Come hither, Christmas-daj', and dine; 
 
 We'll mix sobriety with wine. 
 
 And easy mirth with tlioughts 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 ; 
 
 W^hy 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 ad- 
 dressed, was the younger brother of William Scott of Rea- 
 burn. Being the cadet of a cadet of the Harden famil}-, he 
 had very little to lose ; yet he contrived to lose the small 
 property he had, by engaging in the civil wars and in- 
 trigues 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 
 
civ NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 able to afford to pay a barber, he affected to " wear a beard 
 for the king." I sincerely hope this was not absolutely the 
 original reason of my ancestor's beard ; which, as appears 
 from a portrait in the possession of Sir Henry Hay Mac- 
 dougal, Bart, and another painted for the famous Dr Pit- 
 cairn, * was a beard of a most dignified and venerable ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 V. 
 
 The spirit's blasted tree. — P. 307- 
 I am permitted to illustrate this passage, by inserting 
 " Ceuhren yr Elh/ll, or the Spirit's Blasted Tree," a legen- 
 dary 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 extreme, 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 de- 
 gree of sentiment in the description. Some trace of Howel 
 
 * The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius. By the fa- 
 vour of the late Earl of Kelly, descended on the maternal side from Dr Pit- 
 cairn, my father became possessed of the portrait in question. 
 
 t The history of Uieir feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in Wales. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cV 
 
 Sele's mansion Avas to be seen, some few years ago, and 
 may perhaps be still visible, in the park of Nannau, now- 
 belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet, in the wild and 
 romantic tracts of Merionethshire. The abbey mentioned 
 passes under two names, Vaner and Cymmer. The former 
 is retained, as more generally used. 
 
 THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE. 
 Ceubren y Ellyll. 
 Through Nannau's Chace as Howel passed, 
 
 A chief esteemed both brave and kind. 
 Far distant borne, the stag-hound's cry 
 Caine murmuring on the hollow wind. 
 
 Starting, he bent an eager ear, — 
 
 How should the sounds return ao-ain? 
 
 O 
 
 His hounds lay wearied from the chace. 
 And all at home his hunter train. 
 
 Then sudden anger flashed his eye. 
 
 And deep revenge he vowed 'to take. 
 On that bold man who dared to force 
 
 His red deer from the forest brake. 
 
 Unhappy chief ! would nought avail. 
 
 No signs impress thy heart with fear. 
 Thy lady's dark mysterious dream, 
 
 Tliy warning from the hoary seer ? 
 
 Three ravens gave the note of death. 
 
 As through mid air they winged their way; 
 
 Then o'er his head, in rapid flight. 
 
 They croak, — they scent their destined pre}'. 
 
cvi NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Ill-omened bird ! as legends saj^. 
 
 Who hast the wonderous power to know. 
 
 While health fills high llie throbbing veins. 
 The fated hour when blood must flow. 
 
 Blinded by rage, alone he passed. 
 Nor sought his ready vassals' aid ; 
 
 But what his fate lay long unknown. 
 For many an anxious year delayed. 
 
 A peasant marked his angry eye. 
 
 He saw him reach the lake's dark bourae. 
 
 He saw him near a Blasted Oak, 
 But never from that hour return. 
 
 Three days passed o'er^ no tidings came ; — 
 Where should the chief his steps delay.? 
 
 With wild alarm the servants ran. 
 
 Yet knew not where to point their way. 
 
 His vassals ranged the mountain's height. 
 The covert close, and wide-spread plain ; 
 
 But all in vain their eager search. 
 They ne'er must see their lord again. 
 
 Yet Fancy, in a thousand shapes. 
 
 Bore to his home the Chief once more : 
 Some saw him walk the mountain's top, 
 •■ Some saw him on the winding shore. 
 
 With wonder fraught the tale went round. 
 Amazement chained the hearer's tongue; 
 
 Each peasant felt his own sad loss. 
 Yet fondly o'er the story hung. 
 11 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cvii 
 
 Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light. 
 
 His aged nurse, and steward grey. 
 Would lean to catch the storied sounds. 
 
 Or mark the flitting spirit stray. 
 
 Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen. 
 
 And midnight voices heard to moan; 
 'Twas even said the Blasted Oak, 
 
 Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan : 
 
 And, to this day, the peasant still. 
 
 With cautious fear, avoids the ground; 
 In each wild branch a spectre sees. 
 
 And trembles at each rising sound. 
 
 Ten annual suns had held their course. 
 
 In summer's smile, or winter's storm ; 
 The lady shed the widowed tear. 
 As oft she traced his manly form. 
 
 Yet still to hope her heart would cling. 
 
 As o'er the mind illusions play, — 
 Of travel fond, perhaps her lord 
 
 To distant lands had steered his way. 
 
 'Twas now November's cheerless hour. 
 
 Which drenching rains aild clouds deface; 
 Dreary the mountain tract appeared. 
 
 And dull and dank the valley's space. 
 
 Loud o'er the wier the hoarse flood fell. 
 
 And dashed the foamy spray on high ; 
 The west wind bent the forest tops. 
 
 And angry frowned the evening sky. 
 
cviii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 A stranger passed Llanelltid's waste. 
 
 His dark-grey steed with sweat besprent. 
 
 Which, wearied with the lengthened way, 
 Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent. 
 
 The portal reached, — the iron bell 
 
 Loud sounded round the outward wall; 
 
 Quick sprang the warder to the gate. 
 To know what meant the clamorous call. 
 
 " O ! lead me to your lady soon ; 
 
 Say, — it is my sad lot to tell. 
 To clear the fate of that brave knight. 
 
 She long has proved she loved so well." 
 
 Then, as he crossed the spacious hall. 
 The menials look surprise and fear ; 
 
 Still o'er his harp old Modred hung. 
 And touched the notes for grief's worn ear. 
 
 The lady sat amidst her train ; 
 
 A mellowed sorrow marked her look : 
 Then, asking what his mission meant. 
 
 The graceful stranger sighed and spoke :— 
 
 " O could I spread one ray of hope. 
 One moment raise thy soul from woe. 
 
 Gladly my tongue would tell its tale. 
 My words at ease unfettered flow ! 
 
 " Now, lady, give attention due. 
 The story claims thy full belief: 
 
 E'en in the worst events of life. 
 Suspense removed is some relief. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. «ix 
 
 " Though worn by care, see Madoc here. 
 
 Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe ; 
 Ahj let his name no anger raise. 
 
 For now that mighty Chief Ues 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. 
 
 " Vanquished at length, the Glyndwr fled 
 
 W^here winds the Wye her devious flood ; 
 To find a casual shelter there. 
 
 In some lone cot, or desert wood. 
 
 " Clothed in a sbepherd'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.* — 
 
ex NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 " Dim waxed the eye that fiercely shone. 
 And faint the tongue that proudly spoke. 
 
 And weak that arm, still raised to me. 
 Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke. 
 
 " How could I then his mandate bear ? 
 
 Or how his last behest obey ? 
 A rebel deemed, with him I fled ; 
 
 With him I shunned th^ light of day. 
 
 " Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage. 
 My country lost, despoiled my land. 
 
 Desperate, I fled my native soil. 
 
 And fought on Syria's distant strand. 
 
 " O, had thy long-lamented lord 
 The holy cross and banner viewed. 
 
 Died in the sacred cause ! who fell 
 Sad victim of a private feud ! 
 
 " Led, by the ardour of the chace. 
 Far distant from his own domain ; 
 
 From where Garthmadan spreads her shades. 
 The Glyndwr sought the opening plain. 
 
 " With head aloft, and antlers wide, 
 
 A red buck roused then crossed in view; 
 
 Stmig with the sight, and wild with rage. 
 Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. 
 
 " With bitter taunt, and keen reproach. 
 He, all impetuous, poured his rage; 
 
 Reviled the Chief as weak in arms. 
 And bade him loud the battle wage. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cje! 
 
 " 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 !— she lost her present grief. 
 And faintly thought of things long past. 
 
cxii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Like wild-fire o'er a mossy heath. 
 The rumour through the hamlet ran ; 
 
 The peasants crowd at morning dawn, 
 To hear the tale, — behold the man. 
 
 He led them near the Blasted Oak, 
 
 Then, conscious, from the scene withdrew : 
 
 The peasants work with trembling haste. 
 And lay the whitened bones to view ! — 
 
 Back they recoiled ! — the right hand still. 
 Contracted, grasped a rusty sword ; 
 
 Which erst in many a battle gleamed. 
 And proudly decked their slaughtered lord. 
 
 They bore the corse to Vener's shrine. 
 With holy rites, and prayers addressed ; 
 
 Nine white-robed monks the last dirge sang. 
 And gave the Angry Spirit rest. 
 
 Note VI. 
 The Highlander 
 
 Will on a Friday morn look pale. 
 If asked to tell a fairy tale, — P. 307* 
 The Daoine shi, or Men of Peace, of the Scottish High- 
 landers, rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergar than the 
 EngUsh Fairies. Notwithstanding their name, they are, if 
 not absolutely malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, 
 and apt to do mischief on slight provocation. The belief of 
 their existence is deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who 
 think they are particularly offended with mortals, who talk of 
 
 12 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxiii 
 
 tlieni, who wear their favourite colour green, or in any respect 
 interfere with their affairs. This is particularly to be avoid- 
 ed on Friday, when, whether as dedicated to Venus, with 
 whom, in Germany, this subterraneous people are held near- 
 ly connected, or for a more solenm reason, they are more 
 active, and possessed of greater power. Some curious par- 
 ticulars concerning the popular superstitions of the High- 
 landers, may be found in Dr Graham's Picturesque Sketches 
 of Perthshire. 
 
 Note VII. 
 The tozeers of FrancMmont. — P. 308. 
 
 The journal of the friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of 
 the poem is inscribed, furnished me with the following ac- 
 count of a striking superstition. 
 
 " Passed the pretty little village of Franchemont, (near 
 SpaAV,) with the romantic ruins of the old castle of the Counts 
 of that name. The road leads through many delightful vales, 
 on a rising ground ; at the extremity of one of them stands 
 the ancient castle, now the subject of many superstitious 
 legends. It is firmly believed by the neighbouring peasantry, 
 that the last Baron of Franchemont deposited, in one of the 
 vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, containing an im- 
 mense treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic 
 spell, was entrusted to the care of the devil, who is constantly 
 found sitting on the chest in the shape of a huntsman. Any 
 one adventurous enough to touch the chest, is instantly seized 
 with the palsy. Upon one occasion, a priest of noted piety 
 
 P 
 
cxiv NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 was brought to the vault : he used all the arts of exorcism to 
 persuade liis infernal majesty to vacate the seat, but in vain; 
 the huntsman remained immoveable. At last, moved by the 
 earnestness of the priest, he told him that he would agree to 
 resign the chest, if the exorciser would sign his name with 
 blood. But the priest understood his meaning, and refused, 
 as by that act he would have delivered over his soul to the 
 devil. Yet if any body can discover the mystic words used 
 by the person Avho deposited the treasure, and pronounce 
 them, the fiend must instantly decamp. I had many stories 
 of a similar nature from a peasant, who had himself seen the 
 devil, in the shape of a great cat." 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 The very form of Hilda fair. 
 Hovering upon the sunny air. — P. 321. 
 • " I shall only produce one instance more of the great ve- 
 neration paid to Lady Hilda, which still prevails even in 
 these our days ; and that is, the constant opinion that she 
 rendered, and still renders, herself visible, on some occasions, 
 in the abbey of Streanshalh, or AVhitby, where she so long 
 resided. At a particular time of the year, (viz. in the sum- 
 mer months,) at ten or eleven in the forenoon, the sun- 
 beams fall in the inside of the northern part of the choir; 
 and 'tis then that the spectators, who stand on the west side 
 of Whitby church-yard, so as just to see the most northerly 
 part of the abbey past the north end of Whitby church, ima- 
 gine they perceive, in one of the highest windows there, the 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxt 
 
 resemblance of a woman, arrayed in a sliroud. Though we 
 are certain this is only a reflection, caused by the splendour 
 of the sun-beams, yet fame reports it, and it is constantly 
 believed among the vulgar, to be an appearance of Lady 
 Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state ; before 
 which, I make no doubt, the papists, even in these our days, 
 offer up their prayers with as much zeal and devotion, as 
 before any other image of their most glorified saint." — 
 Cha^rlton's History of Wliitby, p. 33. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 A Bishop by the altar stood. — P. 332. 
 The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, 
 son of Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was au- 
 thor of a Scottish metrical version of the iEneid, and of 
 many other poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at 
 this period attained the mitre. 
 
 Note X. 
 The huge and sweeping brand. 
 
 That wont of yore in battle fray 
 
 His foeman's limbs to lop away. 
 
 As wood-knife shreds the sapling spray. — P. 333. 
 Angus had strength and personal activity correspond- 
 ing to his courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a favourite of 
 James IV., having spoken of him lightly, the Earl met 
 him while hawking, and compelling him to single com- 
 bat, at one blow cut asunder his thigh bone, and killed him 
 
cxvi IsOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 on the spot. But ere he could obtain James's pardon for 
 this slaughter, Angus was obliged to yield his castle of Her- 
 mitage, in exchange for that of Bothwell, which was some 
 diminution to the family greatness. The sword with which 
 he struck so remarkable a blow, was presented by his des- 
 cendant, James, Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scot- 
 land, to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he defied Both- 
 well to single combat on Carberry-hill. — See Introduction 
 to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish border, P. ix. 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 And hopest thou hence unscathed to gof 
 No, hy St Bn/de of Bothwell, no : 
 Up drate}-bridge, grooms — what. Warder, ho ! 
 Let the portcullis fall. — P. 338. 
 This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is 
 not without its examples in the real history of the house of 
 Douglas, whose chieftains possessed the ferocity with the 
 heroic virtues of a savage state. The most curious instance 
 occurred in the case of Maclellan, tutor of Bomby, who, 
 having refused to acknowledge the pre-eminence claimed bj 
 Douglas over the gentlemen and Barons of Galloway, was 
 seized and imprisoned by the Earl, in his castle of the 
 Thrieve, on the borders of Kirkcudbright-shire. Sir Patrick 
 Gray, commander of King James the Second's guard, was 
 uncle to the tutor of Bomby, and obtained from the King a 
 " sweet letter of supplication," praying the Earl to deliver 
 his prisoner into Gray's hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. csvii 
 
 the castle, he was received with all the honour clue to a fa- 
 vourite servant of the king's household ; but while he was 
 at dinner, the earl, who suspected his errand, caused his 
 prisoner be led forth and beheaded. After dinner. Sir Pa- 
 trick presented the king's letter to the earl, who received it 
 with great affectation of reverence ; " and took him by the 
 hand, and led him forth to the green, where the gentleman 
 was lying dead, and shewed him the manner, and said, Sir 
 Patrick, you are come a little too late ; yonder is your 
 sister's son lying, but he Avants the head : take his body, and 
 do with it what you will. Sir Patrick answered again with 
 a sore heart, and said. My lord, if ye have taken from him 
 his head, dispone upon the body as ye please : and with 
 that called for his horse, and leaped thereon ; and when he 
 was on horseback, he said to the Earl on this manner, IVIy 
 lord, if 1 live, you shall be rewarded for your labours, that 
 you have used at this time, according to your demerits. 
 
 " At this saying the Earl was highly offended, and cried 
 for horse. Sir Patrick, seeing the Earl's fury, spurred his 
 horse, but he was chased near Edinburgh ere they left him ; 
 and had it not been his lead horse was so tried and good, 
 he had been taken." — Pitscottie's History, p. 39. 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 A letter forged ! St Jude to speed! 
 Did ever knight so foul a deed 9 — P. 339' 
 Lest the reader should partake of the earl's astonishment, 
 and consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of 
 
cjviii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 the period, I have to remind him of the numerous forgeries 
 (partly executed bj a female assistant) devised by Robert 
 of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; 
 which, being detected, occasioned his flight into Enoland, 
 and proved the remote cause of Edward the Third's me- 
 morable wars in France. John Harding, also, was express- 
 ly hired by Edward IV., to forge such documents as might 
 appear to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scot- 
 land by the English monarchs. 
 
 Note Xlii. 
 
 Where LenneTs convent closed their march. — P. 343. 
 This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entire- 
 ly demolished. Lennel House is now the residence of my 
 venerable friend Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known 
 in the literary world. It is situated near Coldstream, al- 
 most opposite to Cornhill, and consequently very near to 
 Flodden Field. 
 
 Note XIV. 
 
 The Till hij Twisel Bridge.— V. 345. 
 On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flod- 
 den, SuiTey's head-quarters were at Bamioor-wood, and 
 King James held an inaccessible position on the ridge of 
 Tlodden-hills, one of the last and lowest eminences detach- 
 ed from the ridge of Cheviot, The Till, a deep and slow 
 river, winded between the armies. On the morning of the 9th 
 September, 1513, Surrey marched in a north-westerly direc- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxix 
 
 tion, and, turning eastward, crossed the Till, with his van and 
 artillery, at Twisell-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 Scot- 
 land, 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 Eng- 
 lish 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 enemies 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 cross- 
 ed the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splen- 
 did 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 roman- 
 tic 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 He- 
 len's Well. 
 
cxx NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Note XV. 
 
 Hence might they see the full array 
 Of either host, for battle fray. — P. 350. 
 The reader cannot here expect a full account of the battle 
 of Flodden ; but, so far as is necessary to understand the fol- 
 lowing pages, I beg to remind him, that, when the English 
 army, by their skilful counter-march, were fairly placed be- 
 tween King James and his own country, the Scottish mo- 
 narch resolved to fight, and, setting fire to his tents, des- 
 cended from the ridge of Flodden to secure the neighbour- 
 ing eminence of Brankstone, on which that village is built. 
 Thus the two armies met, almost without seeing each other, 
 according to the old poem of " Flodden Field :" 
 
 The English line stretched east and west. 
 
 And southward were their faces set ; 
 The Scottish northward proudly presl. 
 
 And manfully their foes they met. 
 
 The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, 
 which first engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, 
 Thomas Howard, tlie admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, 
 the knight marshal of the army. Their divisions were sepa- 
 rated from each other; but, at the request of Sir Edmund, 
 his brother's battalion was drawn very near to his own. The 
 centre Avas commanded by Surrey in person ; the left wing 
 by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of 
 
KOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cKxi 
 
 the palatinate of Chester. Lord Dacres, with a large body 
 of horse, formed a reserve. When the smoke, which the wind 
 had driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed, 
 they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in 
 a similar order of battle, and in deep silence. * The Earls 
 of Huntley and of Home commanded their left wing, and 
 charged Sir Edmund Howard with such success, as entirely 
 to defeat his part of the English left wing. 'J'he admiral, 
 however, stood firm, and Dacre advancing to his support 
 with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the interval of 
 the divisions commanded by the brother Howards, appears 
 to have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, 
 chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the baggage of both ar- 
 mies ; and their leader is branded, by the Scottish historians, 
 with negligence or treachery. On the other hand, Huntley, 
 on whom they bestow many encomiums, is said, by the Eng- 
 lish historians, to have left the field after the first charge. 
 Meanwhile the admiral, whose flank these chiefs ought to 
 have attacked, availed himself of their inactivity, and push- 
 ed forward against another large division of the Scottish army 
 in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, 
 both of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On the 
 left, the success of the English was yet more decisive ; for the 
 Scottish right wing, consisting of undisciplined Highland- 
 ers, commanded by Lennox and Argyle, was unable to 
 
 * " Lesquelz Ecossois descendirent la d'montnigne en bonne ordre, en la maniere 
 que marchent ies Allemans, sans purler, ne J'aire aucun bniit." Gazette of .the 
 Battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendix, Vol. II. p. 456. 
 
 q 
 
cxxii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and especially the 
 severe execution of the Lancashire archers. The King and 
 Surrey, Avho commanded the respective centres of their ar- 
 mies, were meanAvhile engaged in close and dubious conflict. 
 James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, and impa- 
 tient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by 
 his reserve under Bolhwell, charged with such fury, that the 
 standard of Surrey was in danger. At that critical moment, 
 Stanley, who had routed the left wing of the Scottish, pur- 
 sued his career of victor}'', and arrived on the right flank, and 
 in the rear of James's division, which, throwing itself into a 
 circle, disputed the battle till night came on. Surrey then 
 drew back his forces ; for the Scottish centre not having been 
 broken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted 
 the event of the field. The Scottish army, however, felt 
 their loss, and abandoned the field of battle in disorder, be- 
 fore dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten thousand 
 men, but that included the very prime of their nobility, gen- 
 try, and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence but has 
 an ancestor killed at Flodden ; and there is no province in 
 Scotland, even at this day, where the battle is mentioned 
 without a sensation of terror and sorrow. The English lost 
 also a great number of men, perhaps within one-third of the 
 vanquished, but they were of inferior note. — See the only 
 distinct detail of the field of Flodden in Pinkerton's His- 
 tory, Book XI. ; all former accounts being full of blunder 
 a,nd inconsistency. 
 The spot, from which Clara views the battle, must be sup- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxiii 
 
 posed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the 
 Enghsli right wing, which was defeated, and in which con- 
 flict Marmion is supposed to have fallen. 
 
 Note XVI. 
 Brian Timsfall, stainless knight. — P. 352. 
 
 Sir Brian Tunstall, called, in the romantic language of the 
 time, Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few English- 
 men 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 explanatorj' notes, is about to be publish- 
 ed by my friend Mr Henry Weber. Tunstall perhaps de- 
 rived his epithet of undijiled 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 XVI r. 
 
 Viexi) not that corpse mistrustfnllij , 
 
 Defaced 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 Ga- 
 zette, within a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey ; and the 
 same account adds, that none of his division were made pri- 
 soners, though many were killed ; a circumstance that tes- 
 tifies the desperation of their resistance. The Scottish his- 
 
cxxiv NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 torians record many of the idle reports which passed among 
 the vulgar of their day. Home was accused, by the popu- 
 lar voice, not only of failing to support the king, but even 
 of having carried him out of the field and murdered him. 
 And this tale was revived in my remembrance, by an unau- 
 thenticated story of a skeleton, wrapped in a bull's hide, 
 and surrounded with an iron chain, said to have been found 
 in the well of Home Castle : for which, on inquiry, I could 
 never find any better authority, than the sexton of the pa- 
 rish having said, that, if the well were cleaned out, he would 
 not he surprised at such a discovery. Home was the cham- 
 berlain of the king, and his prime favourite ; he had much 
 to lose (in fact did lose all) in consequence of James's death, 
 and nothing earthly to gain by that event : but the retreat, 
 or inactivity, of the left wing, Avhich he commanded, after 
 defeatino- Sir Edmund Howard ; and even the circumstance 
 of his returning unhurt, and loaded with spoil, from so fatal 
 a conflict, rendered the propagation of any calumny against 
 him easy and acceptable. Other reports gave a still more 
 romantic turn to the king's fate, and averred, that James, 
 weary of greatness after the carnage among his nobles, had 
 gone on a pilgrimage to merit absolution for the death of 
 his father, and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry. 
 In particular, it was objected to the English, that they 
 could never show the token of the iron belt ; which, however, 
 be was likely enough to have laid aside on the day of battle, 
 as encumbering his personal exertions. They produce a bet- 
 ter evidence, the monarch's sword and dagger, which are still 
 
 2 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxv 
 
 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 Kind's Stone. 
 
 'b 
 
 Note XVIII. 
 
 fanatic Brook 
 
 The fair cathedral stormed and took. — P. 372. 
 This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garri- 
 soned 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 magnificent church in ques- 
 tion 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 
 following particulars : 
 The lines in page 128, 
 
 Whose doom contending neighbours sought. 
 Content with equity unbought, 
 
cxxvi NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dry- 
 den'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 " Katherine Janfarie/' which 
 may be found in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." 
 The line, page 352, 
 
 Stout Stanley has the right^ 
 
 should have been, 
 
 Stout Stanley fronts their right. 
 
 In point of minute accuracy, it may be also observed, 
 that it was not the guns called the " Seven Sisters," which 
 were given by the French king to James, as alleged in 
 p. 215., but another train of artillery, also lost at Flodden. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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