THE POEMS AND BALLADS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 VOL. II. 
 MARMION
 
 Lady Heron and James IV. 
 
 Etching by \V. H. W. Bicknell from Painting by Sir James 
 Dromgole Linton.
 
 International lElution 
 
 THE 
 
 POEMS AND BALLADS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. 
 
 IN SIX VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Eitttotouctors Essag anb Note* 
 BY ANDREW LANG 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BOSTON 
 
 DANA ESTES & COMPANY 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO 
 
 ESTES & LAURIAT 
 IQOO
 
 INTERNATIONAL EDITION, 
 Limited to One thousand Copies 
 
 l 
 
 Copyright, 1900 
 BY DANA ESTES & Co. 
 
 y.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 Introduction to Canto I To William Stuart 
 
 Rose, Esq 1 
 
 Canto I. The Castle 19 
 
 Introduction to Canto II To the Rev. John 
 
 Marriott, A. M 49 
 
 Canto H. The Convent 63 
 
 Introduction to Canto III. To William Er- 
 
 skine, Esq 97 
 
 Canto in. The Hostel, or Inn . . . 109 
 Introduction to Canto IV. To James Skene, 
 
 Esq 137 
 
 Canto IV. The Camp 147 
 
 Introduction to Canto V. To George Ellis, 
 
 Esq. 181 
 
 Canto V. The Court 191 
 
 Introduction to Canto VI. To Richard Heber, 
 
 Esq 239 
 
 Canto VI. The Battle 253 
 
 APPENDIX TO MARMION 307 
 
 Marmion.
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 LADY HERON AND JAMES IV. . . Frontispiece 
 
 WHITBY 64 
 
 TRIAL OF CONSTANCE DE BEVERLY ... 84 
 
 CRICHTOUN CASTLE 154 
 
 LINLITHGOW 160 
 
 THE LADY CLARE 166 
 
 TANTALLON CASTLE . 212 
 
 Marmion
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 SOME alterations in the text of the Introduction 
 to Marmion, and of the Poem itself, as well as various 
 additions to the author's Notes, will be observed in 
 this edition. We have followed Sir Walter Scott's 
 interleaved copy, as finally revised by him in the 
 summer of 1831. 
 
 The preservation of the original MS. of the Poem 
 has enriched this volume with numerous various read- 
 ings, which will be found curious and interesting. 
 Afac-simile of the MS. is given at p. 175.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 SCOTT himself has told the world about the cir- 
 cumstances which hurried him in the composition of 
 Marmion (begun in 1806). His brother, Thomas, 
 was in pecuniary difficulties, which, till he withdrew 
 to Canada, caused Sir Walter much anxiety and ex- 
 pense. 1 But his love for his brother was undimin- 
 ished, and he did not contradict the rumour that 
 Tom was the author of Old Mortality. Sir Walter, 
 indeed, encouraged Tom to try his hand at fiction, 
 and, much later, was of great service to his family. 
 In the review of the Waverley Novels in the Quar- 
 terly (in part, at least, by Scott himself) he made a 
 humourous reference to Claverhouse's capture of the 
 brother of an eminent Covenanter, a circumstance 
 answering to the fixing of the guilt of Old Mortality 
 on Tom. 
 
 " November's sky was chill and drear, 
 November's leaf was red and sere," 
 
 in 1806, when Scott began his poem at Ashestiel. 
 The little country house partly consists of remains 
 
 1 A whole volume of Scott's letters to his brother exists 
 in MS. 
 
 zi
 
 xii INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 of an old Border keep, and is perched on a steep cliff 
 above a beautiful pool of the Tweed. It remains in 
 the possession of Scott's cousin some times removed, 
 Miss Russel, a lady eminent for her science in Bor- 
 der antiquities. There is still the old invalid's chair, 
 which Scott lent to a kinsman, and, at the close of 
 his life, was obliged to occupy himself. The house is 
 within a mile of Elibank, where Sir Walter's ances- 
 tor, Young Harden, is said by legend to have had 
 his choice between the laird's gibbet, and the laird's 
 daughter, Muckle Mou'd Meg. Not only Scott, but, 
 if family Bibles are admitted as evidence, the present 
 writer, are among the consequences of Harden's 
 choice. There is now a fine one-arched bridge over 
 Tweed, at Ashestiel, but, to Scott's joy, there was 
 only a ford in his time, a ford which he took pleas- 
 ure in riding, when Tweed was flooded. He had, as 
 he said, "grand gallops in the hills, when he was 
 thinking of Marmion" According to Gillies, uncon- 
 tradicted by Lockhart, during one of these gallops 
 Scott saw a mysterious appearance, which neither he 
 nor his mare, Finella, liked. But no local tradition 
 known to me explains the Brown Man of the Moors, 
 from whom Finella bolted homewards. The days at 
 Ashestiel were Scott's happiest, he was young, his 
 " imps " were " hardy, bold, and wild ; " he was suc- 
 cessful, and already famous. 
 
 Lockhart mentions places haunted by the Sheriff 
 while busy with his poem. There was a knoll with 
 tall ashes on the Peel farm, Peel being a Border 
 keep. Here lived a Mr. Laidlaw, called Laird Nippy, 
 whose wife, a friend of Scott's, was a kinswoman of 
 my own. She received, from her famous neighbour, 
 copies, handsomely bound, of all his poems, with his
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xiii 
 
 autograph, and these are among the dearest of my 
 " gabions," as Scott called such treasured relics. On 
 the river banks, and among the hills, from Loch Skene 
 and St. Mary's to Tweed, Scott thought out his poem, 
 in appropriate scenes, such as Wierdlaw (the site of 
 a Border beacon in the old times), and at Thirle- 
 stane, whose laird alone was loyal when all his 
 barons deserted James V. Later, in 1807, when 
 being drilled as a volunteer, to meet the expected 
 French invasion, Scott used to gallop his horse 
 through the surge of the sea, "as if at the charge," 
 and then he was telling, in his mind, the tale of 
 Flodden. So Lockhart was informed by Mr. Skene, 
 whose daughter yet remembers how, in 1864, she 
 found her father "with a look of inexpressible de- 
 light on his face," when he said to her, " I have had 
 such a great pleasure ! Scott has been here ; he came 
 from a long distance to see me. He has been sit- 
 ting at the fireside talking over our happy recollec- 
 tions of the past. . . ." In two or three days Mr. 
 Skene also travelled over that long distance, and was 
 with his friend of the unforgotten years. 1 
 
 At that time Scott was not averse to reciting his 
 unpublished verses to his friends. One of these, Mr. 
 Guthrie Wright, suggested the idea of Marmion's stay 
 with Archibald Bell the Cat, at Tantallon Castle. An- 
 other friend provided material in a curious way. If 
 the reader will consult Scott's Note H, in his Ap- 
 pendix, he will find a Latin passage copied by Sur- 
 tees of Mainsforth from writing on the fly-leaf of 
 Burthogge On the Nature of Spirits (1694). This 
 passage suggested Marmion's battle with the Elfin 
 
 i Sir Walter Scott's Journal, ii. 456. Note. The anecdote 
 was repeated to myself by Miss Skene.
 
 xiv INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 knight, and purports to be taken from a Durham 
 MS. But the MS. "cannot now be found in the 
 Chapter Library of Durham." I have no doubt that 
 Mr. Surtees humourously forged the whole Latin pas- 
 sage, as he forged the ballad of Albany Featherston- 
 haugh (Canto I. xiii.), and that of Bartram's Dirge. 
 To these he later confessed, but Scott was never 
 aware of hoaxes excellent in themselves, and charac- 
 teristic of the age. 
 
 By January 19, 1808, Scott could tell Lady Louisa 
 Stuart that "Marmion is, at this instant, gasping 
 upon Flodden Field, and there I have been obliged 
 to leave him for these few days in the death-pangs. 
 I hope I shall find time enough this morning to 
 knock him on the head with two or three thumping 
 stanzas." 
 
 Almost, or quite, before the poem appeared, Southey 
 had written to Scott, " The story is made of better 
 materials than the Lay, yet they are not so well fitted 
 together. As a whole it has not pleased me so much, 
 in parts, it has pleased me more." Wordsworth 
 (one cannot believe that he had read Marmion) said : 
 " I think your end has been attained. That it is not 
 the end which I should wish you to propose to your- 
 self," Scott will understand. Wordsworth, doubtless, 
 thought that Scott should have written about Idiot 
 Boys, and similar homely modern themes. Appar- 
 ently most readers preferred the Lay, and most read- 
 ers were right. As every one has heard, Jeffrey sent 
 his review of the book to Scott, on a day when he 
 was engaged to dine with him. Jeffrey, no doubt, 
 said what he thought he was bound to say. The 
 Lay, he declared, was about as reasonable as "a 
 modern Abbey, or an English pagoda." One such
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xv 
 
 thing (the Lay) might be excused, for two there 
 was no excuse. Marmion is "a kind of pedantry." 
 There is not in it enough of Scottish national senti- 
 ment, whereas Jeffrey, in reviewing the Lay, had 
 censured the presence of national sentiment. Now, 
 Scott has " throughout neglected Scottish feelings and 
 Scottish characters." The man was a Whigling, of 
 poetry and of the charm of the past he had no sense 
 at all. He lived to whimper over Dickens's Little 
 Nell. It was Jeffrey's attack on his patriotism that 
 hurt Scott. He had done for our great national sor- 
 row, Flodden Field, what Homer did for the woes of 
 the Achaeans and the men of Ilios. So he was ac- 
 cused of "neglecting Scottish feelings and Scottish 
 characters ! " Sir Walter, of course, assured Jeffrey 
 that his digestion was undisturbed, and that he hoped 
 the critic would come to dinner. But Mrs. Scott 
 fired a parting broadside at Jeffrey when he said 
 good-night. Nor did Sir Walter himself quite for- 
 get the impertinences of his friend. 
 
 In Lockhart's time the Lay was thought "the 
 more natural and original, Marmion the more power- 
 ful and splendid." This is a fair criticism. The 
 Lay is the more spontaneous and " inevitable," and, 
 therefore, the better poem. That Marmion should 
 have committed "a mean felony" was a great re- 
 proach. But the knights of the period were very 
 capable of such misdeeds; though, perhaps, forgery 
 was rather beyond their means. Of the vilest treach- 
 ery the annals of that age offer only too many exam- 
 ples, above all on the part of Mannion's master, 
 Henry VIII., and his hired gang of recreant Scots, 
 noble or " godly." 
 
 The plot of Marmion is that of Ivanhoe, and of the
 
 xvi INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 Odyssey. A man thought dead, or lost, reappears in 
 disguise, and avenges his wrongs. The resemblances 
 between Wilfrid of Ivanhoe and Wilton, both tour- 
 neying, unrecognised, against an enemy, are striking, 
 and might have been led as proof that Ivanhoe and 
 Marmion were by the same hand. The motive, how- 
 ever, is traditional, and frequently occurs in ballads 
 and popular tales, all the world over. 
 
 It is curious that Scott, originally, meant Marmion 
 to reveal the identity of his page with Constance. 1 
 The length at which the antiquary, in Scott, dwells 
 on monkish legends of Northumbrian saints is not 
 quite worthy of the poet. That frail nuns were walled 
 up alive has been contested by learned Catholics, and 
 we must presume that, if the legend has any founda- 
 tion at all, it rests on the unauthorised cruelty of 
 individuals. But on this question enough was said 
 when Mr. Haggard, in Montezuma's Daughter, took 
 the same license as Scott took in Marmion. The defi- 
 ance of Constance, and her prophecy of the fall of 
 the religious houses, proves that Scott was more suc- 
 cessful in describing a girl of spirit than in his 
 "ministering angels" of heroines. In deference, 
 perhaps, to Mr. Guthrie Wright's criticism, he shows 
 why Marmion did not take the usual path into Scot- 
 land : 
 
 " They might not choose the Lowland road 
 For the Merse forayers were abroad." 
 
 The State Papers of Henry VIII. prove, in fact, 
 that important persons might often be obliged to 
 choose difficult and unfrequented paths on the 
 Marches. Scott's choice of route is justified, as he 
 
 i Canto I. xvi., Note 2.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xvii 
 
 expected, by the glorious description of the view from 
 Blackf ord Hill, so nobly praised by Mr. Ruskin. The 
 description of the forces gathered on " Scottish Ser- 
 vice " is not less accurate than brilliant. By choice 
 or chance coincidence, Scott employs, as to the cries 
 of the Celts, the very words in which Homer describes 
 the voices of the allies of Troy. 
 
 " Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when 
 The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen." 1 
 
 Not knowing Greek, Scott probably coincided with 
 Homer by sheer similarity of genius. 
 
 Always excellent in painting kings, of James IV. 
 Scott produces a portrait beyond the painter's art in 
 that monarch's day. He himself explains that Lady 
 Heron was not at James's court, and modern histo- 
 rians are apt to reject the whole legend of their later 
 dalliance at Ford Castle, where James's rooms are 
 shown in the ancient part of the building. James's 
 queen, by the way, Margaret Tudor, was the last per- 
 son in the world to sit alone, " and weep the weary 
 hour." Her tastes were exactly those of her brother, 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 Scott hated " explanations," and these tedious nec- 
 essary interruptions clog the brilliant canto on The 
 Court, and are not too plausible after all. 2 Scott is 
 himself again when Marmion beards "the Douglas 
 in his hall," and so to the end of the poem. The lay 
 of Flodden Field, indeed, is the crown of Scott's 
 
 r' laav 6pvt6ef of , 
 ffiire Trcf /cAayy^ yepdvuv nefai obpavoO npo. 
 
 Iliad iii. 2, 3. 
 2 Canto V. xxiii.
 
 xviii INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 warlike poetry: perhaps of all warlike poetry since 
 Homer. We can scarcely say that " he never stoops 
 his wing," for there are flat and needless lines in his 
 "thumping stanzas," as he called them, but there is 
 also the "joy of battle," and the clang of steel. 
 Details of topography need not be touched on here ; 
 even with field-glasses the Scots, from Modden, could 
 not (as in the poem) watch the English 
 
 " as they crossed 
 The Till by Twisel Bridge." 
 
 So, at least, it seems to one who has visited the 
 ground. But poetry has nothing to do with precise 
 military criticism : suffice it to say that, according to 
 our latest historian, Mr. Hume Brown, Twisel Bridge 
 is nine miles from Hodden Edge, and there are inter- 
 vening heights and hollows. James's real error lay 
 in moving at all from his strong position. The battle 
 is ideally and poetically, and, at the close, historically 
 correct. Stanza xxxiv., in particular, is a glorious 
 account of that last charge (for it was a charge, not 
 a stand) of one of the very few kings who have 
 chosen death before defeat. King James was no 
 general, but he hewed his way, by Surrey's own writ- 
 ten statement, to within a lance's length of the Eng- 
 lish leader. All was lost, indeed, but honour; and 
 Scotland which still says of each national calamity, 
 " There has not been the like since Flodden " for- 
 gives the gayest, the bravest, and not the least 
 unhappy of the doomed house of Stuart. 
 
 ANDREW LANG.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MAR-MION. 
 
 WHAT I have to say respecting this Poem may be 
 briefly told. In the Introduction to the Lay of the 
 Last Minstrel, I have mentioned the circumstances, 
 so far as my literary life is concerned, which induced 
 me to resign the active pursuit of an honourable pro- 
 fession, for the more precarious resources of litera- 
 ture. My appointment to the Sheriffdom of Selkirk 
 called for a change of residence. I left, therefore, 
 the pleasant cottage I had upon the side of the Esk, 
 for the " pleasanter banks of the Tweed," in order to 
 comply with the law, which requires that the sheriff 
 shall be resident, at least during a certain number of 
 months, within his jurisdiction. We found a delight- 
 ful retirement, by my becoming the tenant of my 
 intimate friend and cousin-german, Colonel Russel, 
 in his mansion of Ashestiel, which was unoccupied, 
 during his absence on military service in India. The 
 house was adequate to our accommodation, and the 
 exercise of a limited hospitality. The situation is 
 uncommonly beautiful, by the side of a fine river, 
 whose streams are there very favourable for angling,
 
 xx INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 surrounded by the remains of natural woods, and by 
 hills abounding in game. In point of society, accord- 
 ing to the heartfelt phrase of Scripture, we dwelt 
 " amongst our own people ; " and as the distance from 
 the metropolis was only thirty miles, we were not out 
 of reach of our Edinburgh friends, in which city we 
 spent the terms of the summer and winter Sessions 
 of the Court, that is, five or six months in the year. 
 
 An important circumstance had, about the same 
 time, taken place in my life. Hopes had been held 
 out to me from an influential quarter, of a nature to 
 relieve me from the anxiety which I must have other- 
 wise felt, as one upon the precarious tenure of whose 
 own life rested the principal prospects of his family, 
 and especially as one who had necessarily some 
 dependence upon the favour of the public, which is 
 proverbially capricious; though it is but justice to 
 add, that, in my own case, I have not found it so. 
 Mr. Pitt had expressed a wish to my personal friend, 
 the Eight Honourable William Dundas, now Lord 
 Clerk Register of Scotland, that some fitting oppor- 
 tunity should be taken to be of service to me ; and as 
 my views and wishes pointed to a future rather than 
 an immediate provision, an opportunity of accomplish 
 ing this was soon found. One of the Principal Clerks 
 of Session, as they are called (official persons who 
 occupy an important and responsible situation, and 
 enjoy a considerable income), who had served up- 
 wards of thirty years, felt himself, from age, and the 
 infirmity of deafness with which it was accompanied, 
 desirous of retiring from his official situation. As 
 the law then stood, such official persons were entitled 
 to bargain with their successors, either for a sum of 
 money, which was usually a considerable one, or for
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xxi 
 
 an interest in the emoluments of the office during 
 their life. My predecessor, whose services had been 
 unusually meritorious, stipulated for the emoluments 
 of his office during his life, while I should enjoy the 
 survivorship, on the condition that I discharged the 
 duties of the office in the meantime. Mr. Pitt, how- 
 ever, having died in the interval, his administration 
 was dissolved, and was succeeded by that known by 
 the name of the Fox and Grenville Ministry. My 
 affair was so far completed that my commission lay 
 in the office subscribed by his Majesty; but, from 
 hurry or mistake, the interest of my predecessor was 
 not expressed in it, as had been usual in such cases. 
 Although, therefore, it only required payment of the 
 fees, I could not in honour take out the commission 
 in the present state, since, in the event of my dying 
 before him, the gentleman whom I succeeded must 
 have lost the vested interest which he had stipulated 
 to retain. I had the honour of an interview with 
 Earl Spencer on the subject, and he, in the most 
 handsome manner, gave directions that the commis- 
 sion should issue as originally intended ; adding, that 
 the matter having received the royal assent, he re- 
 garded only as a claim of justice what he would have 
 willingly done as an act of favour. I never saw Mr. 
 Fox on this, or on any other occasion, and never made 
 any application to him, conceiving that in doing so I 
 might have been supposed to express political opin- 
 ions contrary to those which I had always professed. 
 In his private capacity, there is no man to whom I 
 would have been more proud to owe an obligation, 
 had I been so distinguished. 
 
 By this arrangement I obtained the survivorship 
 of an office, the emoluments of which were fully
 
 xxii INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 adequate to my wishes; and as the law respecting 
 the mode of providing for superannuated officers 
 was, about five or six years after, altered from that 
 which admitted the arrangement of assistant and 
 successor, my colleague very handsomely took the 
 opportunity of the alteration, to accept of the retiring 
 annuity provided in such cases, and admitted me to 
 the full benefit of the office. 
 
 But although the certainty of succeeding to a con- 
 siderable income, at the time I obtained it, seemed to 
 assure me of a quiet harbour in my old age, I did not 
 escape my share of inconvenience from the contrary 
 tides and currents by which we are so often en- 
 countered in our journey through life. Indeed, the 
 publication of my next poetical attempt was prema- 
 turely accelerated from one of those unpleasant 
 accidents which can neither be foreseen nor avoided. 
 
 I had formed the prudent resolution to endeavour 
 to bestow a little more labour than I had yet done 
 on my productions, and to be in no hurry again to 
 announce myself as a candidate for literary fame. 
 Accordingly, particular passages of a poem, which 
 was finally called Marmion, were laboured with a 
 good deal of care, by one by whom much care was 
 seldom bestowed. Whether the work was worth the 
 labour or not, I am no competent judge ; but I may 
 be permitted to say that the period of its composition 
 was a very happy one, in my life ; so much so, that I 
 remember with pleasure, at this moment, some of the 
 spots in which particular passages were composed. 
 It is probably owing to this that the Introductions 
 to the several Cantos assumed the form of familiar 
 epistles to my intimate friends, in which I alluded, 
 perhaps more than was necessary or graceful, to my
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xxiii 
 
 domestic occupations and amusements, a loquacity 
 which may be excused by those who remember that 
 I was still young, light-headed, and happy, and that 
 "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
 speaketh." 
 
 The misfortunes of a near relation and friend, 
 which happened at this time, led me to alter my 
 prudent determination, which had been, to use great 
 precaution in sending this poem into the world ; and 
 made it convenient at least, if not absolutely neces- 
 sary, to hasten its publication. The publishers of 
 The Lay of the Last Minstrel, emboldened by the 
 success of that poem, willingly offered a thousand 
 pounds for Marmion. The transaction being no 
 secret, afforded Lord Byron, who was then at general 
 war with all who blacked paper, an apology for 
 including me in his satire, entitled English Bards 
 and Scotch Reviewers. 1 I never could conceive how 
 
 1 Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, 
 The golden-crested haughty Marmion, 
 Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, 
 Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight, 
 The gibbet or the field prepared to grace ; 
 A mighty mixture of the great and base. 
 And think 1 st thou, Scott ! by vain conceit perchance, 
 On public taste to foist thy stale romance, 
 Though Murray with his Miller may combine 
 To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line ? 
 No ! when the sons of song descend to trade, 
 Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. 
 Let such forego the poet's sacred name, 
 Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame ; 
 Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain ! 
 And sadly gaze on gold they cannot gain ! 
 Such be their meed, such still the just reward 
 Of prostituted muse and hireling bard !
 
 xxiv INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 
 
 an arrangement between an author and his publish- 
 ers, if satisfactory to the persons concerned, could 
 afford matter of censure to any third party. I had 
 taken no unusual or ungenerous means of enhancing 
 the value of my merchandise I had never higgled 
 a moment about the bargain, but accepted at once 
 what I considered the handsome offer of my publish- 
 ers. These gentlemen, at least, were not of opinion 
 that they had been taken advantage of in the trans- 
 action, which indeed was one of their own framing ; 
 on the contrary, the sale of the Poem was so far 
 beyond their expectation as to induce them to supply 
 the author's cellars with what is always an accept- 
 able present to a young Scottish housekeeper, namely, 
 a hogshead of excellent claret. 
 
 The Poem was finished in too much haste to allow 
 me an opportunity of softening down, if not remov- 
 ing, some of its most prominent defects. The nature 
 of Marmion's guilt, although similar instances were 
 found, and might be quoted, as existing in feudal 
 times, was nevertheless not sufficiently peculiar to be 
 indicative of the character of the period, forgery 
 being the crime of a commercial, rather than a proud 
 and warlike age. This gross defect ought to have 
 been remedied or palliated. Yet I suffered the tree 
 to lie as it had fallen. I remember my friend, 
 Doctor Leyden, then in the East, wrote me a furious 
 remonstrance on the subject. I have, nevertheless, 
 always been of opinion that corrections, however in 
 themselves judicious, have a bad effect after pub- 
 lication. An author is never so decidedly condemned 
 
 For this we spurn Apollo's venal son, 
 And bid a long " Good-night to Marmion." 
 
 Byron's Works, vol. vii. p. 235-6.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. xxv 
 
 as on his own confession, and may long find apolo- 
 gists and partisans until he gives up his own cause. 
 I was not, therefore, inclined to afford matter for 
 censure out of my own admissions; and, by good 
 fortune, the novelty of the subject, and, if I may say 
 so, some force and vivacity of description, were 
 allowed to atone for many imperfections. Thus the 
 second experiment on the public patience, generally 
 the most perilous, for the public are then most apt 
 to judge with rigour, what in the first instance they 
 had received, perhaps, with imprudent generosity, 
 was in my case decidedly successful. I had the 
 good fortune to pass this ordeal favourably, and the 
 return of sales before me makes the copies amount to 
 thirty-six thousand printed between 1808 and 1825, 
 besides a considerable sale since that period. I shall 
 here pause upon the subject of Marmion, and, in a 
 few prefatory words to The Lady of the Lake, the 
 last poem of mine which obtained eminent success, 
 I will continue the task which I have imposed on 
 myself respecting the origin of my productions. 
 
 Abbotsford, April, 1830.
 
 MARMION 
 
 A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD 1 
 IN SIX CANTOS 
 
 Alas ! that Scottish maid should sing 
 The combat where her lover fell ! 
 
 That Scottish Bard should wake the string, 
 The triumph of our foes to tell. 
 
 LEYDBN. 
 
 1 Published in 4to, February, 1808.
 
 TO 
 
 THE BIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 f^mrg, 3L0rt jflfUmtague 
 
 ETC., ETC., ETC. 
 
 THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 IT is hardly to be expected that an author whom 
 the public have honoured with some degree of ap- 
 plause should not be again a trespasser on their 
 kindness. Yet the author of Marmion must be sup- 
 posed to feel some anxiety concerning its success, 
 since he is sensible that he hazards, by this second 
 intrusion, any reputation which his first poem may 
 have procured him. The present story turns upon 
 the private adventures of a fictitious character; but 
 is called a Tale of Flodden Field, because the hero's 
 fate is connected with that memorable defeat, and 
 the causes which led to it. The design of the author 
 was, if possible, to apprise 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 histori- 
 cal narrative, far more an attempt at epic composi- 
 tion, 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 manners of the feudal times, upon a 
 broader scale, and in the course of a more interesting 
 story, will not be unacceptable to the public. 
 
 The poem opens about the commencement of 
 August, and concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 
 9th September, 1513. 
 
 Ashestiel, 1808.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 To William Stewart Rose, Esq. 
 
 Ashestiel, Ettrick 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 greenwood grew, 
 So feeble trill'd the streamlet through : 
 Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen 
 Through bush and brier, no longer green, 
 An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, 
 Braws 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 ; l 
 
 1 MS. " No longer now in glowing red 
 
 The Ettericke-Forest hills are clad.'* 
 1 i
 
 MARMION. 
 
 No more, beneath the evening beam, 
 Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; 
 Away hath pass'd the heather-bell 
 That bloom'd so rich on Needpath-fell ; 
 Sallow his brow, and russet bare 
 Are now the sister-heights of Yare. 
 The sheep, before the pinching heaven, 
 To shelter'd dale and down are driven, 
 Where yet some faded herbage pines, 
 And yet a watery sunbeam shines : 
 In meek despondency they eye 
 The wither'd sward and wintry sky, 
 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 vanish'd 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 ;
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 3 
 
 Again the hawthorn shall supply 
 The garlands you delight to tie ; 
 The lambs upon the lea shall bound, 
 The wild birds carol to the round, 
 And while you frolic light as they, 
 Too short shall seem the summer day. 
 
 To mute and to material things 
 New lif e revolving summer brings ; 1 
 The genial call dead Nature hears, 
 And in her glory reappears. 
 But oh ! my Country's wintry state 
 What second spring shall renovate ? 
 What powerful call shall bid arise 
 The buried warlike and the wise ; 2 
 The mind that thought for Britain's weal, 
 The hand that grasp'd the victor steel ? 
 The vernal sun new life bestows 
 Even on the meanest flower that blows ; 
 
 1 The "chance and change" of nature, the vicissitudes 
 which are observable in the moral as well as the physical 
 part of the creation, have given occasion to more exquisite 
 poetry than any other general subject. The Author had before 
 made ample use of the sentiments suggested by these topics ; 
 yet he is not satisfied, but begins again with the same in his 
 first introduction. The lines are certainly pleasing ; but they 
 fall, in our estimation, far below that beautiful simile of the 
 Tweed which he has introduced into his former poem. The 
 At, at, rai ftahaicai of Moschus is, however, worked up again 
 to some advantage in the following passage : "To mute," etc. 
 Monthly Rev. May, 1808. 
 
 . " What call awakens from the dead 
 
 The hero's heart, the patriot's head ? "
 
 MARMION. 
 
 But vainly, vainly may he shine, 
 Where glory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine ; 
 And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, 
 That shrouds, Pitt, thy hallo w'd tomb! 
 
 Deep graved in every British heart, 
 
 never let those names depart ! 1 
 
 Say to your sons, Lo, here his grave, 
 
 Who victor died on Gadite wave ; 2 
 
 To him, as to the burning levin, 
 
 Short, bright, resistless course was given. 
 
 Where'er his country's foes were found, 
 
 Was heard the fatal thunder's sound, 
 
 Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, 
 
 Eoll'd, blazed, destroy'd, and was no more. 
 
 Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth, 
 Who bade the conqueror go forth, 
 And launch'd that thunderbolt of war 
 On Egypt, Hafnia, 3 Trafalgar ; 
 Who, born to guide such high emprise, 
 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, 
 Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf, 
 And served his Albion for herself ; 
 
 1 MS. " Deep in each British bosom wrote, 
 
 O never be those names forgot ! " 
 8 Nelson. 8 Copenhagen.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 5 
 
 Who, when the frantic crowd amain 
 Strain'd at subjection's bursting rein, 1 
 O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd, 
 The pride, he would not crush, restrain'd, 
 Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, 2 
 And brought the freeman's arm, to aid the free- 
 man's laws. 
 
 Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd of 
 
 power, 3 
 
 A watchman on the lonely tower, 
 Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, 
 When fraud or danger were at hand ; 
 By thee, as by the beacon-light, 
 Our pilots had kept course aright ; 
 
 1 MS. " Tugged at subjection's cracking rein." 
 
 2 MS. " Show'd their bold zeal a worthier cause." 
 
 8 This paragraph was interpolated on the blank page of the 
 MS. We insert the lines as they appear there : 
 
 " O had he lived, though stripp'd of power, 
 Like a lone watchman on the tower, 
 His thrilling trumpet through the land 
 Had warn'd when foemen were at hand, 
 As by some beacon's lonely light, 
 f By thee our course had steer'd aright ; ~\ 
 J Our steady course had steer'd aright ; y 
 { Our Pilots kept their course aright ; J 
 His single mind, unbent by fate, 
 Had propp'd his country's tottering weight ; 
 
 As some \ ' ( column left alone, 
 I vast ) 
 
 ( Had propp'd our tottering state and throne, 
 I His strength had propp'd our tottering throne 
 The beacon light is quench'd in smoke, 
 The warder fallen, the column broke."
 
 MARMION. 
 
 As some proud column, though alone, 
 
 Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne 
 
 Now is the stately column broke, 
 
 The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke, 
 
 The trumpet's silver sound is still, 
 
 The warder silent on the hill ! 
 
 Oh think, how to his latest day, 1 
 When Death, just hovering, claim'd his prey, 
 With Palinure's unalter'd mood, 
 Firm at his dangerous post he stood ; 
 Each call for needful rest repell'd, 
 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, 
 But still, upon the hallow'd day, 2 
 Convoke the swains to praise and pray ; 
 Whose 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 ; 
 
 1 MS. " Yet think how to his latest day." 
 8 MS. " But still upon the holy day."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 7 
 
 Nor be thy requiescat dumb, 
 Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. 1 
 For talents mourn, untimely lost, 
 When best employ'd, 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 suppress'd, 
 And sacred be the last long rest. 
 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, 
 
 1 In place of the next twelve lines, the original MS. has the 
 following : 
 
 " If genius high, and judgment sound, 
 And wit that loved to play, not wound, 
 And all the reasoning powers divine, 
 To penetrate, resolve, combine, 
 Could save one mortal of the herd 
 From error Fox had never err'd."
 
 8 MARMION. 
 
 And, partial feeling cast aside, 1 
 Record, that Fox a Briton died ! 
 When Europe crouch'd to France's yoke, 
 And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, 
 And the firm Russian's purpose brave, 
 Was barter'd by a timorous slave, 
 Even then dishonour's peace he spurn'd, 
 The sullied olive-branch return'd, 
 Stood for his country's glory fast, 
 And nail'd her colours to the mast ! 
 Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave 
 A portion in this honour'd grave, 
 And ne'er held marble in its trust 
 Of two such wondrous men the dust. 2 
 
 With more than mortal powers endow'd, 
 How high they soar'd above the crowd ! 
 Theirs was no common party race, 3 
 Jostling by dark intrigue for place ; 
 
 1 MS. "And party passion doff'd aside." 
 
 2 The first epistolary effusion, containing a threnody on 
 Nelson, Pitt, and Fox, exhibits a remarkable failure. We are 
 unwilling to quarrel with a poet on the score of politics ; but 
 the manner in which he has chosen to praise the last of these 
 great men is more likely, we conceive, to give offence to his 
 admirers than the most direct censure. The only deed for 
 which he is praised is for having broken off the negotiation 
 for peace ; and for this act of firmness, it is added, Heaven 
 rewarded him with a share in the honoured grave of Pitt ! It 
 is then said that his errors should be forgotten, and that he 
 died a Briton, a pretty plain insinuation that, in the 
 author's opinion, he did not live one ; and just such an en- 
 comium as he himself pronounces over the grave of his villain 
 hero, Marmion. Jeffrey. 
 
 3 MS. " Theirs was no common courtier race."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Like fabled Gods, their mighty war 
 
 Shook realms and nations in its jar ; 
 
 Beneath each banner proud to stand, 
 
 Look'd 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. 1 
 
 These spells are spent, and, spent with these, 
 
 The wine of life is on the lees. 
 
 Genius, and taste, and talent gone, 
 
 For ever tomb'd beneath the stone, 
 
 Where taming thought to human pride ! 
 
 The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. 2 
 
 1 MS. " And force the pale moon from the sky." 
 2 Reader ! remember when thou wert a lad, 
 Then Pitt was all ; or, if not all, so much, 
 His very rival almost deem'd him such. 
 We, we have seen the intellectual race 
 Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face ; 
 Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea 
 Of eloquence between, which flow'd all free, 
 As the deep billows of the ^Egean roar 
 Betwixt the Hellenic and the Phrygian shore. 
 But where are they the rivals ! a few feet 
 Of sullen earth divide each winding-sheet. 
 How peaceful and how powerful is the grave 
 Which hushes all ! a calm unstormy wave 
 Which overweeps the world. The theme is old 
 Of " dust to dust ; " but half its tale untold ; 
 Time tempers not its terrors. 
 
 Byron's Age of Bronze.
 
 io MARMION. 
 
 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 li ving men, 
 Where wilt thou find their like agen ? " 
 
 Eest, 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, 0, how impotent and vain 
 This grateful tributary strain ! 
 Though not unmark'd from northern clime, 
 Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme : 
 His Gothic harp has o'er you rung ; 
 The Bard you deign'd to praise, your deathless 
 names has sung. 
 
 Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, 
 My wilder'd 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,
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. n 
 
 Were here a tribute mean and low, 
 
 Though all their mingled streams could flow 
 
 Woe, wonder, and sensation high, 
 
 In one spring-tide of ecstasy ! 
 
 It will not be it may not last 
 
 The vision of enchantment's past : 
 
 Like frostwork in the morning ray, 
 
 The fancied fabric melts away ; J 
 
 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 copsewood 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 watch it floating down the Tweed ; 
 Or idly list the shrilling lay, 
 With which the milkmaid cheers her way, 
 
 1 If but a beam of sober reason play, 
 Lo ! Fancy's fairy frostwork melts away. 
 
 Rogers' s Pleasures of Memory.
 
 12 MARMION. 
 
 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, 1 
 Lest his old legends tire the ear 
 Of one, who, in his simple mind, 
 May boast of book-learn'd 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 
 Enters Morgana's fated house, 
 Or in the Chapel Perilous, 
 Despising spells and demons' force, 
 Holds converse with the unburied corse; 2 
 Or when, Dame Ganore's grace to move, 
 (Alas, that lawless was their love !) 
 
 1 MS. " Though oft he stops to wonder still 
 That his old legends have the skill 
 To win so well the attentive ear, 
 Perchance to draw the sigh or tear." 
 
 3 See Appendix, Note A.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 13 
 
 He sought proud Tarquin in his den, 
 And freed full sixty knights; or when, 
 A sinful man, and unconfess'd, 
 He took the Sangreal's holy quest, 
 And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
 He might not view with waking eye. 1 
 
 The mightiest chiefs of British song 
 Scorn'd not such legends to prolong: 
 They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, 
 And mix in Milton's heavenly theme; 
 And Dryden, in immortal strain, 
 Had raised the Table Eound again, 2 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note B. 
 
 a Dryden's melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, 
 blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is 
 contained in an Essay on Satire addressed to the Earl of 
 Dorset, and prefixed to the translation of Juvenal. After 
 mentioning a plan of supplying machinery from the guardian 
 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 in- 
 tended to have put in practice (though far unable for the 
 attempt of such a poem) ; and to have left the stage, to which 
 my genius never much inclined me, for a work which would 
 have taken up my life in the performance of it. This, too, I 
 had intended chiefly 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 choose that of 
 King Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, being farther dis- 
 tant 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 expe- 
 dition of one year, for the greatness of the action, and its
 
 I 4 MARMION. 
 
 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 ; l 
 The world defrauded of the high design, 2 
 Profaned the God-given strength, and marr'd 
 the lofty line. 
 
 Warm'd by such names, well may we then, 
 Though dwindled sons of little men, 
 
 answerable event, for the magnanimity of the English hero, 
 opposed to the ingratitude of the person whom he restored, 
 and for the many beautiful episodes which I had interwoven 
 with the principal design, together with the characters of the 
 chiefest English persons (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I 
 would have taken occasion to represent my living friends and 
 patrons of the noblest families, and also shadowed the events 
 of future ages in the succession of our imperial line), with 
 these helps, and those of the machines which I have mentioned, 
 I might perhaps have done as well as some of my predecessors, 
 or at least chalked out a way for others to amend my errors in 
 a like design ; but being encouraged only with fair words by 
 King Charles II. , my little salary ill paid, and no prospect of a 
 future subsistence, I was then discouraged in the beginning of 
 my attempt ; and now age has overtaken me, and want, a more 
 insufferable evil, through the change of the times, has wholly 
 disabled me." 
 
 1 MS. " Licentious song, lampoon, and play."- 
 
 "The world defrauded of the bold design, 
 
 And quench'd the heroic > ,, 
 
 T. . , . , > fire, and marr'd the lofty line. 
 
 Profaned the heavenly ) 
 
 Again, 
 
 "Profaned his God-given strength, and marr'd his lofty line.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 15 
 
 Essay to break a feeble lance 
 
 In the fair fields of old romance ; 
 
 Or seek the moated castle's cell, 
 
 Where long through talisman and spell, 
 
 While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, 
 
 Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept: 
 
 There sound the harpings of the North, 
 
 Till he awake and sally forth, 
 
 On venturous quest to prick again, 
 
 In all his arms, with all his train, 1 
 
 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, who scarce his passion tells ; 
 
 Mystery, half veil'd and half reveal'd ; 
 
 And Honour, with his spotless shield ; 
 
 Attention, with fix'd eye ; and Fear, 
 
 That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 
 
 And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
 
 Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; 
 
 1 In the MS. the rest of the passage stands as follows : 
 
 f ch. 8)1*111 S 
 
 " Around him wait with all their \ 
 
 ( spells, 
 
 , . , ( Virtue only warms ; 
 Pure Love which \ , . ... 
 
 ( scarce his passion tells ; 
 
 Mystery, half seen and half conceal'd ; 
 And Honour, with unspotted shield ; 
 Attention, with fix'd eye ; and Fear, 
 That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 
 And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
 And Valour that despises death."
 
 1 6 MARMION. 
 
 And Valour, lion-mettled lord, 
 Leaning upon his own good sword. 
 
 Well has thy fair achievement shown, 
 A worthy meed may thus be won ; 
 Ytene's 1 oaks beneath whose shade 
 Their theme the merry minstrels made, 
 Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold, 2 
 And that Red King, 3 who, while of old, 
 Through Boldrewood the chase he led, 
 By his loved huntsman's arrow bled 
 Ytene's oaks have heard again 
 Renew'd such legendary strain; 
 
 1 The New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called. 
 
 2 The History of Bevis of Hampton is abridged by my 
 friend, Mr. George Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts 
 amusement even out of the most rude and unpromising of our 
 old tales of chivalry. Ascapart, a most important personage 
 in the romance, is thus described in an extract : 
 
 " This geaunt was mighty and strong, 
 
 And full thirty foot was long. 
 
 He was bristled like a sow ; 
 
 A foot he had between each brow ; 
 
 His lips were great, and hung aside ; 
 
 His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide 
 
 Lothly he was to look on than, 
 
 And liker a devil than a man. 
 
 His staff was a young oak, 
 
 Hard and heavy was his stroke." 
 Specimens of Metrical Romances, vol. ii. p. 136. 
 
 I am happy to say that the memory of Sir Bevis is still 
 fragrant in his town of Southampton ; the gate of which is 
 sentinelled by the effigies of that doughty knight-errant and 
 his gigantic associate. 
 8 William Ruf us.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 17 
 
 For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul, 
 
 That Amadis so famed in hall, 
 
 For Oriana, foil'd in fight 
 
 The Necromancer's felon might ; 
 
 And well in modern verse hast wove 
 
 Partenopex's mystic love : 1 
 
 Hear, then, attentive to my lay, 
 
 A knightly tale of Albion's elder day. 
 
 1 Partenopex de Blois, a poem, by W. S. Rose, Esq., was 
 published in 1808. ED.
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 I. 
 
 DAY set on Norham's castle steep, 1 
 And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 
 
 And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
 The battled towers, the donjon keep, 2 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note C. 
 
 2 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 tremendous 
 thickness, situated in the centre of the other buildings, 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 occasions, and also the 
 prison of the fortress ; from which last circumstance we derive 
 the modern and restricted use of the word dungeon. Ducange 
 (voce Dunjo) conjectures plausibly that the name is derived 
 from these keeps being usually built upon a hill, which in 
 Celtic is called Dun. Borlase supposes the word came from the 
 darkness of the apartments in these towers, which were thence 
 figuratively called Dungeons ; thus deriving the ancient word 
 from the modern application of it. 
 
 19
 
 20 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 The loophole grates, where captives weep, 
 The flanking walls that round it sweep, 
 
 In yellow lustre shone. 1 
 The warriors on the turrets high, 
 Moving athwart the evening sky, 2 
 
 Seem'd forms of giant height : 
 Their armour, as it caught the rays, 
 Flash'd back again the western blaze, 3 
 
 In lines of dazzling light. 
 
 II. 
 
 Saint George's banner, broad and gay, 
 Now faded, as the fading ray 
 
 Less bright, and less, was flung ; 
 The evening gale had scarce the power 
 To wave it on the Donjon Tower, 
 
 So heavily it hung. 
 The scouts had parted on their search, 
 
 The Castle gates were barr'd ; 
 Above the gloomy portal arch, 
 Timing his footsteps to a march, 
 
 The Warder kept his guard ; 
 Low humming, as he paced along, 
 Some ancient Border gathering song. 
 
 III. 
 
 A distant trampling sound he hears ; 
 He looks abroad, and soon appears, 
 
 1 In the MS. the first line has " hoary keep;' 1 ' 1 the fourth 
 "donjon steep ; " the seventh "ruddy lustre." 
 
 a MS. ' ' Eastern sky . " MS. ' ' Evening blaze. ' '
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 2F 
 
 O'er Horncliff-hill a plump l 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 warn'd the Captain in the hall, 
 
 For well the blast he knew ; 
 And joyfully that knight did call, 
 To sewer, squire, and seneschal 
 
 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; 2 
 
 Lord Marmion waits below ! " 
 Then to the Castle's lower ward 
 
 1 This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl ; but 
 is applied, by analogy, to a body of horse. 
 
 " There is a knight of the North Country, 
 Which leads a lusty plump of spears." 
 
 Flodden Field. 
 . " A welcome shot."
 
 22 MARMION. Canto L 
 
 Sped forty yeomen tall, 
 The iron-studded gates unbarr'd, 
 Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, 
 The lofty palisade unsparr'd, 
 
 And let the drawbridge fall. 
 
 V. 
 
 Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, 
 Proudly his red-roan charger trode, 
 His helm hung at the saddlebow ; 
 Well by his visage you might know 
 He was a stalworth knight, and keen, 
 And had in many a battle been ; 
 The scar on his brown cheek reveal'd * 
 A token true of Bosworth field ; 
 His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire, 
 Show'd 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-turn'd joints, and strength of limb, 
 Show'd him no carpet knight so trim, 
 But in close fight a champion grim, 
 
 In camps a leader sage. 2 
 
 1 MS. " On his brown cheek an azure scar 
 Bore token true of Bosworth war." 
 
 a Marmion is to Deloraine what Tom Jones is to Joseph 
 Andrews : the varnish of higher breeding nowhere diminishes
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 23 
 
 VI. 
 
 Well was he arm'd from head to heel, 
 
 In mail and plate of Milan steel ; 1 
 
 But his strong helm, of mighty cost, 
 
 Was all with burnish'd gold emboss'd ; 
 
 Amid the plumage of the crest, 
 
 A falcon hover'd on her nest, 
 
 With wings outspread, and forward breast ; 
 
 E'en such a falcon, on his shield, 
 
 Soar'd sable in an azure field : 
 
 The golden legend bore aright, 
 
 ZSfjo djecfts at nu, to toatij is 
 
 the prominence of the features ; and the minion of a king is as 
 light and sinewy a cavalier as the Borderer rather less fero- 
 cious more wicked, not less fit for the hero of a ballad, and 
 much more so for the hero of a regular poem. George Ellis. 
 
 1 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 preparations 
 made by Henry, Earl of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and 
 Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marischal, for their proposed 
 combat in the lists at Coventry : "These two lords made 
 ample provision of all things necessary for the combat ; and 
 the Earl of Derby sent off messengers to Lombardy, to have 
 armour from Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The duke complied 
 with joy, and gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who had 
 brought the 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 abund- 
 ant love for the earl, ordered four of the best armourers in 
 Milan to accompany the knight to England, that the Earl of 
 Derby might be more completely armed." Johnes's Froissart, 
 vol. iv. p. 597. 
 
 8 The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the 
 following story: Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford,
 
 24 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 Blue was the charger's broider'd rein ; 
 Blue ribbons deck'd his arching mane ; 
 The knightly housing's ample fold 
 Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold. 
 
 was, among other gentlemen of quality, attended, during a 
 visit to London, in 1390, by Sir William Dalzell, who was, 
 according to my authority, Bower, not only excelling in wis- 
 dom, but also of a lively wit. Chancing to be at the court, he 
 there saw Sir Piers Courtenay, an English knight, famous for 
 skill in tilting, and for the beauty of his person, parading the 
 palace, arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an em- 
 broidered falcon, with this rhyme : 
 
 " I bear a falcon, fairest of flight, 
 Who so pinches at her, his death is dight 1 
 
 Ingraith." 2 
 
 The Scottish knight being a wag, appeared next day in a 
 dress exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a mag- 
 pie instead of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to 
 rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers : 
 
 " I bear a pie picking at a piece, 
 Whoso picks at her, I shall pick at his nese, 8 
 
 In faith." 
 
 This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp 
 lances. In the course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that 
 it gave way at the touch of his antagonist's lance, and he thus 
 avoided the shock of the encounter. This happened twice : in 
 the third encounter, the handsome Courtenay lost two of his 
 front teeth. As the Englishman complained bitterly of Dal- 
 zell's fraud in not fastening his helmet, the Scottishman agreed 
 to run six courses more, each champion staking in the hand of 
 the king two hundred pounds, to be forfeited, if, on entering 
 the lists, any unequal advantage should be detected. This 
 being agreed to, the wily Scot demanded that Sir Piers, in 
 addition to the loss of his teeth, should consent to the extinc- 
 
 1 Prepared. * Armour. Nose.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 25 
 
 VII. 
 
 Behind him rode two gallant squires, 
 Of noble name, and knightly sires ; 
 They burn'd the gilded spurs to claim ; 
 For well could each a warhorse 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 halbert, bill, and battle-axe : 
 
 They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 1 
 
 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 ; 
 
 tion of one of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the 
 fight of Otterburn. As Courtenay demurred to this equalisa- 
 tion of optical powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit ; which, 
 after much altercation, the king appointed to be paid to him, 
 saying, he surpassed the English both in wit and valour. This 
 must appear to the reader a singular specimen of the humour 
 of that time. I suspect the Jockey Club would have given a 
 different decision from Henry IV. 
 
 1 MS. " One bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 
 Two led his sumpter-mules along, 
 The third his palfrey, when at need,"
 
 26 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 
 Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, 
 Where, blazon'd sable, as before, 
 The towering falcon seem'd 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, 
 Show'd they had march'd a weary way. 
 
 IX. 
 
 'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 
 How fairly arm'd, and order'd how, 
 
 The soldiers of the guard, 
 With musket, 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 : 
 Enter'd the train, and such a clang, 1 
 
 1 MS. " And when he enter'd, such a clang, 
 
 As through the echoing turrets rang.""
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 27 
 
 As then through all his turrets rang, 
 Old Norham never heard. 
 
 X. 
 
 The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, 
 
 The trumpets flourish'd brave, 
 The cannon from the ramparts glanced, 
 
 And thundering welcome gave. 
 A blithe salute, in martial sort, 
 
 The minstrels well might sound, 
 For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court, 
 
 He scatter'd angels round. 
 " Welcome to Norham, Marmion ! 
 
 Stout heart, and open hand ! 
 Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 
 
 Thou flower of English land ! " 
 
 XL 
 
 Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, 
 With silver scutcheon round their neck, 
 
 Stood on the steps of stone, 
 By which you reach the donjon gate, 
 And there, with herald pomp and state, 
 
 They hail'd Lord Marinion : 1 
 
 l The most picturesque of all poets, Homer, is frequently 
 minute, to the utmost degree, in the description of the dresses 
 and accoutrements of his personages. These particulars, often 
 inconsiderable in themselves, have the effect of giving truth 
 and identity to the picture, and assist the mind in realising the 
 scenes, in a degree which no general description could suggest ; 
 nor could we so completely enter the castle with Lord Mar- 
 mion, were any circumstances of the description omitted. 
 British Critic.
 
 28 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
 Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye 
 
 Of Tamworth tower and town ; 1 
 And he, their courtesy to requite, 
 Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, 
 
 All as he lighted down. 
 "Now, largesse, largesse, 2 Lord Marmion, 
 
 Knight of the crest of gold ! 
 A blazon'd shield, in battle won, 
 
 Ne'er guarded heart so bold." 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note D. 
 
 2 This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were 
 wont to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. 
 Stewart of Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirises 
 the narrowness of James V. and his courtiers, by the ironical 
 burden 
 
 " Lerges, lerges, lerges, hay, 
 
 Lerges of this new-yeir day. 
 First lerges of the King, my chief, 
 Quhilk come als quiet as a thief, 
 
 And in my hand slid schillingis tway, 8 
 To put his lergnes to the preif, 4 
 
 For lerges of this new-yeir day." 
 
 The heralds, like the minstrels, were a race allowed to have 
 great claims upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats 
 they kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text, 
 upon suitable occasions. 
 
 At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of im- 
 portance, pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable char- 
 acter rendered them the only persons that could, with perfect 
 assurance of safety, be sent on necessary embassies into Scot- 
 land. This is alluded to in stanza xxi. 
 
 Two. 4 Proof.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 29 
 
 XII 
 
 They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, 
 
 Where the guests stood all aside, 
 And loudly flourish'd the trumpet-call, 
 
 And the heralds loudly cried, 
 " Boom, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, 
 
 With the crest and helm of gold ! 
 Full well we know the trophies won 
 
 In the lists at Cottiswold : 
 There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 
 
 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand ; 
 To him he lost his lady-love. 
 
 And to the King his land. 
 Ourselves beheld the listed field, 
 
 A sight both sad and fair ; 
 We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 1 
 
 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 conquer'd in the right, 
 
 Marmion of Fontenaye ! " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then stepp'd, to meet that noble Lord, 
 Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
 
 1 MS. " Cleave his shield."
 
 30 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, 
 
 And Captain of the Hold. 1 
 He led Lord Marmion to the deas, 
 
 Raised o'er the pavement high, 
 And placed him in the upper place 
 
 They feasted full and high : 
 The whiles a Northern harper rude 
 Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, 
 " How the fierce Thirwalls, and Kidleys all, 
 Stout Willimondswick, 
 And Hardriding Dick, 
 
 And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, 
 Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, 
 And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw." 2 
 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. 
 
 1 Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, 
 this castellan's name ought to have been William ; for William 
 Heron of Ford was husband to the famous Lady Ford, whose 
 siren charms are said to have cost our James IV. so dear. 
 Moreover, the said William Heron was, at the time supposed, 
 a prisoner in Scotland, being surrendered by Henry VIII., on 
 account of his share in the slaughter of Sir Robert Ker of Cess- 
 ford. 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 Heron's curious Genealogy of the Heron, 
 Family. 
 
 2 The rest of this old ballad, given as a note in the former 
 editions of Marmion, may be found in the Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border, vol. ii.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 31 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, 
 " Of your fair courtesy, 
 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 ; 
 Saint 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 Marmion's brow grew stern. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Captain mark'd his alter'd look, 
 
 And gave a squire the sign ; 
 A mighty wassell-bowl he took, 
 
 And crown'd it high with wine. 
 " Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion : 
 
 But first I pray thee fair, 1 
 Where hast thou left that page of thine, 
 That used to serve thy cup of wine, 
 
 Whose beauty was so rare ? 
 
 1 MS. " And let me pray thee fair."
 
 32 , MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 When last in Kaby towers we met, 
 
 The boy I closely eyed, 
 And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, 
 
 With tears he fain would hide : 
 His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, 
 To burnish shield or sharpen brand, 1 
 
 Or saddle battle-steed ; 
 But meeter seem'd 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 ! 
 Say, hast thou given that lovely youth 
 
 To serve in lady's bower ? 
 Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 
 
 A gentle paramour ? " 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest ; 2 
 He roll'd his kindling eye, 
 
 1 MS. "To rub a shield, or sharp a brand." 
 
 2 MS. " Lord Marmion ill such jest could brook, 
 
 He roll'd his kindling eye ; 
 Fix'd on the Knight his dark haught look, 
 
 And answer'd stern and high : 
 'That page thou did'st so closely eye, 
 
 So fair of hand and skin, 
 Is come, I ween, of lineage high, 
 
 And of thy lady's kin.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 33 
 
 With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, 
 
 Yet made a calm reply : 
 " That hoy thou thought'st so goodly fair, 
 
 He might not brook the northern air. 
 More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, 
 
 I left him sick in Lindisfarn : 1 
 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 ? " 
 He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 
 Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame. 2 
 
 XVII. 
 
 TJnmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, 
 
 Careless the Knight replied, 3 
 " No hird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, 
 
 Delights in cage to bide : 
 Norham is grim and grated close, 
 Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, 
 
 And many a darksome tower ; 
 And better loves my lady bright 
 To sit in liberty and light, 
 
 In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 
 
 That youth, so like a paramour, 
 
 Who wept for shame and pride, 
 Was erst, in Wilton's lordly bower, 
 
 Sir Ralph de Wilton's bride.' " 
 
 1 See note, canto II. stanza i. 
 
 2 MS. " Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dame." 
 
 8 MS. " The Captain gay replied." 
 
 3
 
 34 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 We hold our greyhound in our hand, 
 
 Our falcon on our glove ; 
 But where shall we find leash or band, 
 
 For dame that loves to rove ? 
 Let the wild falcon soar her swing, 
 She'll stoop when she has tired her wing." l 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Nay, if with Eoyal James's bride 
 The lovely Lady Heron bide, 
 Behold me here a messenger, 
 Your tender greetings prompt to bear ; 
 For, to the Scottish court address'd, 
 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 back'd 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 rased old Ayton tower." 2 
 
 1 MS. " She'll stoop again when tired her wing." 
 
 2 The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, 
 is well known. In 1496 he was received honourably in Scot- 
 land ; and James IV., after conferring upon him in marriage 
 his own relation, the Lady Catharine Gordon, made war on 
 England in behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion 
 of England, Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of 
 considerable forces, but retreated, after taking the inconsider- 
 able fortress of Ayton. Ford, in his Dramatic Chronicle of 
 I'erkin Warbeck, makes the most of this inroad :
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 35 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " For such-like need, my lord, I trow, 
 Norham can find you guides enow ; 
 For here be some have prick'd as far, 
 On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 
 Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, 
 And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
 Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, 
 And given them light to set their hoods." l 
 
 " SURREY. 
 
 "Are all our braving enemies shrunk back, 
 Hid in the fogges of their distemper 'd climate, 
 Not daring to behold our colours wave 
 In spight of this infected ayre ? 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 battayle, but it seems the cause 
 They undertake considered, appeares 
 Unjoynted in the frame on't." 
 
 1 The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, 
 and Berwick were, as may be easily supposed, very trouble- 
 some neighbours to Scotland. Sir Richard Maitland of Leding- 
 ton wrote a poem, called The Blind Baron's Comfort, when 
 his barony of Blythe, in Lauderdale, was harried by Rowland 
 Foster, the English captain of Wark, with his company, to 
 the number of three hundred men. They spoiled the poetical 
 knight of five thousand sheep, two hundred nolt, thirty horses 
 and mares ; the whole furniture of his house of Blythe, worth 
 one hundred pounds Scots (8 : 6 : 8), and everything else 
 that was portable. "This spoil was committed the 16th day
 
 36 MARMION. Canto /. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, 
 " Were I in warlike wise to ride, 
 
 A better guard I would not lack, 
 
 Than your stout forayers at my back ; 
 
 But, as in form of peace I go, 
 
 A friendly messenger, to know, 
 
 Why through all Scotland, near and far, 
 
 Their King is mustering troops for war, 
 
 The sight of plundering Border spears 
 
 Might justify suspicious fears, 
 
 And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 
 
 Break out in some unseemly broil : t 
 
 A herald were my fitting guide ; 
 
 Or friar, sworn in peace to bide ; 
 
 Or pardoner, or travelling priest, 
 
 Or strolling pilgrim, at the least." 
 
 of May, 1570 (and the said Sir Bichard was threescore and 
 fourteen years of age, and grown blind), in time of peace ; 
 when nane of that country lippened [expected] such a thing." 
 The Blind Baron's Comfort consists in a string of puns on the 
 word Blythe, the name of the lands thus despoiled. Like John 
 Littlewit, he had " a conceit left him in his misery a miser- 
 able conceit." 
 
 The last line of the text contains a phrase by which the 
 Borderers jocularly intimated the burning a house. When the 
 Maxwells, in 1685, burned the castle of Lochwood, they said 
 they did so to give the Lady Johnstone " light to set her hood." 
 Nor was the phrase inapplicable ; for, in a letter, to which I 
 have mislaid the reference, the Earl of Northumberland writes 
 to the king and council, that he dressed himself at midnight, 
 at Warkworth, by the blaze of the neighbouring villages burned 
 by the Scottish marauders.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 37 
 
 XXL 
 
 The Captain mused a little space, 
 
 And pass'd 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 : 
 
 And 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 pray*d for our success the while. 
 
 Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 
 
 Is all too well in case to ride ; 
 
 The priest of Shoreswood 1 he could rein 
 
 The wildest war-horse in your train ; 
 
 But then, no spearman in the hall 
 
 Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawL 
 
 1 This churchman seems to have been akin to Welsh, the 
 vicar of St. Thomas of Exeter, a leader among the Cornish 
 insurgents in 1549. " This man," says Holinshed, " had many 
 good things in him : lie was of no great stature, but well set, 
 and mightilie compact. He was a very good wrestler ; shot 
 well, both in the longbow, and also in the crossbow ; he han- 
 dled his hand-gun and peece very well ; he was a very good wood- 
 man, and a hardie, and such a one as would not give his head 
 for the polling or his beard for the washing. He was a com- 
 panion in any exercise of activitie, and of a courteous and 
 gentle behaviour. He descended of a good honest parentage, 
 being borne at Peneverin, in Cornwall ; and yet, in this rebel-
 
 38 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 Friar John of Tillmouth were the man : 
 A blithesome brother at the can, 
 A welcome guest in hall and bower, 
 He knows each castle, town, and tower, 
 In which the wine and ale is good, 
 'Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood. 
 But that good man, as ill befalls, 
 Hath seldom left our castle walls, 
 Since, on the vigil of St. Bede, 
 In evil hour, he cross'd 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. 
 The jealous churl hath deeply swore, 
 That, if again he venture o'er, 
 He shall shrieve penitent no more. 
 Little he loves such risks, I know ; 
 Yet, in your guard, perchance will go." 
 
 XXII 
 
 Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 
 Carved to his uncle and that lord, 
 And reverently took up the word. 
 " Kind uncle, woe were we each one, 
 If harm should hap to brother John. 
 
 lion, an arch-captain, and a principal doer." Vol. iv. p. 958, 
 4to edition. This model of clerical talents had the misfortune 
 to be hanged upon the steeple of his own church." l 
 
 1 The reader needs hardly to be reminded of Ivanhoe.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 39 
 
 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, 
 And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, 
 And we can neither hunt, nor ride 
 A foray on the Scottish side. 
 The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, 
 May end in worse than loss of hood. 
 Let Friar John, in safety, still 
 In chimney-corner snore his fill, 
 Eoast hissing crabs, or flagons swill : 
 Last night, to Norham there came one, 
 Will better guide Lord Marmion." 
 " Nephew," quoth Heron, " by my fay, 
 Well hast thou spoke ; say forth thy say." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Here is a holy Palmer come, 
 From Salem first, and last from Home ; 
 One, that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb, 
 And visited each holy shrine, 
 In Araby and Palestine ; 
 On hills of Armenie hath been, 
 Where Noah's ark may yet be seen ; 
 By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, 
 Which parted at the prophet's rod ;
 
 40 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 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 shows Saint James's cockle-shell, 
 Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ; 
 
 And of that Grot where Olives nod, 1 
 Where, darling of each heart and eye, 
 From all the youth of Sicily, 
 
 Saint Rosalie 2 retired to God. 8 
 
 1 MS. " And of the Olives' shaded cell." 
 
 2 MS. " Ketired to God Saint Kosalie." 
 
 8 Sante Rosalia was of Palermo, and born of a very noble 
 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 Almighty, 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 chapel 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 breakneck way. In this frightful place, this 
 holy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on what 
 she found growing on that barren mountain, and creeping into 
 a narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always drop- 
 ping wet, and was her place of retirement, as well as prayer; 
 having worn out even the rock with her knees, in a certain 
 place, which is now open'd on purpose to show it to those who 
 come here. This chapel 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 
 work ; 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.
 
 Canto 7. THE CASTLE. 41 
 
 XXIV. ' 
 
 " To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, 
 Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, 
 Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede 
 For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. 
 He knows the passes of the North, 
 And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 
 Little he eats, and long will wake, 
 And drinks but of the stream or lake. 
 This were a guide o'er moor and dale ; 
 But, when our John hath quaff d his ale, 
 As little as the wind that blows, 
 And warms itself against his nose, 1 
 Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." 2 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ' Gramercy ! " quoth Lord Marmion, 
 
 " Full loath 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-Kood, 
 Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, 
 Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, 
 With angels fair and good. 
 
 1 MS. " And with metheglin warm'd his nose, 
 
 As little as," etc. 
 
 2 This Poem has f aults of too great magnitude to be passed 
 without notice. There is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in 
 some passages, which we think must be offensive to every
 
 42 MARMION. Canto 7. 
 
 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." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Ah ! noble sir," young Selby said, 
 
 And finger on his lip he laid, 
 " This man knows much, perchance e'en more 
 
 Than he could learn by holy lore. 
 
 Still to himself he's muttering, 
 
 And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 
 
 Last night we listen'd at his cell ; 
 
 Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, 
 
 He murmur'd on till morn, howe'er 
 
 No living mortal could be near. 
 
 Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, 
 
 As other voices spoke again. 
 
 reader of delicacy, and which are not, for the most part, re- 
 deemed by any vigour or picturesque effect. The venison 
 pasties, we think, are of this description ; and this commemo- 
 ration of Sir Hugh Heron's troopers, who 
 
 "Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale," etc. 
 
 The long account of Friar John, though not without merit, 
 offends in the same sort, nor can we easily conceive how any 
 one could venture, in a serious poem, to speak of 
 
 "... the wind that blows, 
 And warms itself against his nose." 
 
 Jeffrey.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 43 
 
 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 mark'd ten aves, and two creeds." 1 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Let pass," quoth Marmion ; " by my fay, 
 This man shall guide me on my way, 
 Although the great arch-fiend and he 
 Had sworn themselves of company. 
 So please you, gentle youth, to call 
 This Palmer 2 to the Castle-halL" 
 The summon'd Palmer came in place ; 
 His sable cowl o'erhung his face ; 
 
 1 Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and 
 breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. " But Gargan- 
 tua could not sleep by any means, on which side soever he 
 turned himself. Whereupon the monk said to him, ' I never 
 sleep soundly but when I am at sermon or prayers : Let us 
 therefore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try 
 whether you shall not quickly fall asleep. ' The conceit pleased 
 Gargantua very well ; and, beginning the first of these psalms, 
 as soon as they came to Beati quorum, they fell asleep, both the 
 one and the other." 
 
 2 A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his 
 sole business to visit different holy shrines ; travelling inces- 
 santly, and subsisting by charity : whereas the Pilgrim retired 
 to his usual home and occupations, when he had paid his de- 
 votions at the particular spot which was the object of his pil- 
 grimage. The Palmers seem to have been the Quaestionarii of 
 the ancient Scottish canons 1242 and 1296. There is in the
 
 44 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 In his black mantle was he clad, 
 With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, 
 
 On his broad shoulders wrought ; 
 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 
 Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land. 1 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 When as the Palmer came in hall, 
 
 Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, 
 
 Or had a statelier step withal, 
 
 Or look'd more high and keen ; 
 For no saluting did he wait, 
 
 Bannatyne MS. a burlesque account of two such persons, 
 entitled Simmy and His Brother. Their accoutrements are 
 thus ludicrously described (I discard the ancient 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's shells, on t'other side, shews 
 
 As pretty as a partane 
 
 Toe, 
 On Symmye and his brother." 
 
 1 The first presentment of the mysterious Palmer is lauda- 
 ble. Jeffrey.
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 45 
 
 But strode across the hall of state, 
 And fronted Marmion where he sate, 1 
 
 As he his peer had been. 
 But his gaunt frame was worn with toil ; 
 His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! 
 And when he struggled at a smile, 
 
 His eye look'd haggard wild : 
 Poor wretch ! the mother that him bare, 
 If she had been in presence there, 
 In his wan face, and sun-burn'd 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 blanch at once the hair ; 
 Hard toil can roughen form and face, 2 
 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, 3 
 But this poor Palmer knew them all 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
 The Palmer took on him the task, 
 
 1 MS. " And near Lord Marmion took his seat." 
 
 2 MS. " Hard toil can alter form and face, 
 
 f roughen youthful grace, 
 And want can J quench > 
 
 ( dim j the eyes of grace. 1 * 
 8 MS. " Happy whom none such woes befall."
 
 46 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 So he would march with morning tide, 1 
 To Scottish court to be his guide. 
 
 " But I have solemn vows to pay, 
 And may not linger by the way, 
 
 To fair St. Andrews bound, 
 Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
 Where good Saint Eule his holy lay, 
 From midnight to the dawn of day, 
 
 Sung to the billows' sound ; 2 
 Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, 
 Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 
 
 And the crazed brain restore : 3 
 
 1 MS. " So he would ride with morning tide." 
 
 2 St. Regulus (Scottice, St. Kule), a monk of Patrse, in 
 Achaia, warned by a vision, is said, A. D. 370, to have sailed 
 westward, until he landed at St. Andrews, 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. Andrews, bears the name of this religious 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. On one side is a sort of 
 stone altar ; on the other an aperture into an inner den, where 
 the miserable ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, probably 
 slept. At full tide, egress and regress are hardly practicable. 
 As Kegulus first colonised the metropolitan see of Scotland, 
 and converted the inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some 
 reason to complain that the ancient name of Killrule (Cella 
 Reguli) should have been superseded, even in favour of the 
 tutelar saint of Scotland. The reason of the change was, that 
 St. Rule is said to have brought to Scotland the relics of St. 
 Andrew. 
 
 8 St. Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Al- 
 though popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the
 
 Canto I. THE CASTLE. 47 
 
 Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring 
 Could back to peace my bosom bring, 
 Or bid it throb no more ! " 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And now the midnight draught of sleep, 
 Where wine and spices richly steep, 
 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, 1 
 
 Who drain'd it merrily ; 
 Alone the Palmer pass'd it by, 
 Though Selby press'd him courteously. 
 This was a sign the feast was o'er ; 
 It hush'd the merry wassel roar, 2 
 
 The minstrels ceased to sound. 
 Soon in the castle nought was heard, 
 But the slow footstep of the guard, 
 
 Pacing his sober round. 
 
 common people still retain some of the superstitions connected 
 with it. There are in Perthshire several wells and springs 
 dedicated to St. Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage 
 and offerings, even among the Protestants. They are held 
 powerful in cases of madness ; and, in some 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. See various notes to the Minstrelsy of 
 the Scottish Border. 
 
 1 MS. " The cup pass'd round among the rest." 
 3 MS. "Soon died the merry wassel roar."
 
 48 MARMION. Canto I. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 
 
 And first the chapel doors unclose ; 
 
 Then, after morning rites were done, 
 
 (A hasty mass from Friar John,) 1 
 
 And knight and squire had broke their fast, 
 
 On rich substantial repast, 
 
 Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse : 
 
 Then came the stirrup-cup in course : 
 
 Between the Baron and his host, 
 
 No point of courtesy was lost ; 
 
 High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, 
 
 Solemn excuse the Captain made, 
 
 Till, filing from the gate, had pass'd 
 
 That noble train, their Lord the last. 
 
 Then loudly rung the trumpet call ; 
 
 Thunder' d 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 ; 
 Till they roll'd forth upon the air, 2 
 And met the river breezes there, 
 Which gave again the prospect fair. 
 
 1 In Catholic countries, in order to reconcile the pleasures 
 of the great with the observances of religion, it was common, 
 when a party was bent for the chase, to celebrate mass, 
 abridged and maimed of its rites, called a hunting-mass, the 
 brevity of which was designed to correspond with the impa- 
 tience of the audience. Note to The Abbot. New Edit. 
 
 2 MS. " Slow they roll'd forth upon the air."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 To the Rev. John Marriott, A. M. l 
 
 Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 
 THE scenes are desert now, and bare, 
 "Where flourish'd once a forest fair, 2 
 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, 3 
 
 1 See a note to the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iv. 
 
 2 See Appendix, Note F. 
 
 8 The second epistle opens again with " chance and change ; " 
 but it cannot be denied that the mode in which it is introduced 
 is new and poetical. The comparison of Ettrick Forest, now 
 open and naked, with the state in which it once was covered 
 with wood, the favourite resort of the royal hunt, and the 
 refuge of daring outlaws leads the poet to imagine an ancient 
 thorn gifted with the powers of reason, and relating the various 
 scenes which it has witnessed during a period of three hun- 
 dred years. A melancholy train of fancy is naturally encour- 
 aged by the idea. Monthly Review. 
 4 49
 
 So MARMION. 
 
 Since he, so gray 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 1 to the rock, 
 And through the foliage show'd 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, 
 a The mighty stag at noon-tide 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 ; 
 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 2 riven tower, 
 Sallied a Scottish monarch's power : 
 A thousand vassals muster'd round, 
 With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound ; 
 
 1 Mountain-ash. 
 
 MS. " How broad the ash his shadows flung, 
 How to the rock the rowan clung." 
 
 2 See Notes to The Lay of the Last Minstrel.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 51 
 
 And I might see the youth intent, 
 Guard every pass with crossbow 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 gazehounds grim, 
 Attentive, as the bratchet's l bay 
 From the dark covert drove the prey, 
 To slip them as he broke away. 
 The startled quarry bounds amain, 
 As fast the gallant greyhounds strain ; 
 Whistles the arrow from the bow, 
 Answers the harquebuss below ; 
 While all the rocking hills reply, 
 To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters's cry, 
 And bugles ringing lightsomely." 
 
 Of such proud huntings, many tales 
 Yet linger in our lonely dales, 
 Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow, 
 Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow. 2 
 But not more blithe that silvan court, 
 Than we have been at humbler sport ; 
 Though small our pomp, and mean our game, 
 Our mirth, dear Marriott, was the sama 
 
 1 Slowhound. 
 
 2 The Tale of the Outlaw Murray, who held out Newark 
 Castle and Ettrick 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 of Sel- 
 kirk, is mentioned, that the citizens assisted him to suppress 
 this dangerous outlaw.
 
 52 MARMION. 
 
 Kemember'st thou my greyhounds 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, 
 Pass'd by the intermitted space ; 
 For we had fair resource in store, 
 In Classic and in Gothic lore : 
 We mark'd 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 ! 1 
 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, 
 Eound 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-Sheriffs lonely chase, 
 And ape, in manly step and tone, 
 The majesty of Oberon : 2 
 
 1 A seat of the Duke of Buccleuch on the Yarrow, in Ettrick 
 Forest. See Notes to The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 2 Mr. Marriott was governor to the young nobleman here
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 53 
 
 And she is gone, whose lovely face 
 Is but her least and lowest grace ; l 
 Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given, 
 To show 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 deafen'd 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 orphans' 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, 
 Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, 
 Till all his eddying currents boil, 
 Her long-descended lord 2 is gone, 
 And left us by the stream alone. 
 And much I miss those sportive boys, 8 
 Companions of my mountain joys, 
 
 alluded to, George Henry, Lord Scott, son to Charles, Earl of 
 Dalkeith (afterward Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry), 
 who died early in 1808. 
 
 1 The four next lines on Harriet, Countess of Dalkeith, 
 afterward Duchess of Buccleuch, were not in the original MS. 
 
 2 The late Alexander Pringle, Esq., of Whytbank whose 
 beautiful seat of the Yair stands on the Tweed, about two 
 miles below Ashestiel, the then residence of the poet. 
 
 8 The sons of Mr. Pringle of Whytbank.
 
 54 MARMION. 
 
 Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 
 When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 
 Close to my side, with what delight 
 They press'd to hear of Wallace wight, 
 When, pointing to his airy mound, 
 I call'd his ramparts holy ground ! 1 
 Kindled their brows to hear me speak ; 
 And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, 
 Despite the difference of our years, 
 Eeturn again the glow. of theirs. 
 Ah, happy boys ! such feelings pure, 
 They will not, cannot, long endure ; 
 Condemn'd 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. 2 
 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 : 
 
 1 There is, on a high mountainous ridge above the farm of 
 Ashestiel, a fosse called Wallace's Trench. 
 
 2 MS. " And youth shall ply the sail and oar."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 55 
 
 It soothes the love of lonely rest, 
 
 Deep in each gentler heart impress'd. 
 
 Tis silent amid worldly toils, 
 
 And stifled soon hy 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 Saint Mary's silent lake ; l 
 
 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 ; 
 
 1 This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which 
 the Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with a smaller 
 lake, called the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by moun- 
 tains. In the winter it is still frequented by flights of wild 
 swans ; hence my friend Mr. Wordsworth's lines : 
 
 "The swan on sweet St. Mary's lake 
 Floats double, swan and shadow." 
 
 Near the lower extremity of the lake are the rums of Dry- 
 hope Tower, the birthplace of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip 
 Scott of Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the 
 Flower of Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of 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 Harden family. The author well re- 
 members the talent and spirit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, 
 though age had then injured the charms which procured her 
 the name. The words usually sung to the air of " Tweedside," 
 beginning, "What beauties does Flora disclose," were com- 
 posed in her honour.
 
 56 MARMION. 
 
 And just a trace of silver sand l 
 
 Marks where the water meets the land. 
 
 Far in the mirror, bright and blue, 
 
 Each hill's huge outline you may view ; 2 
 
 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 scatter'd pine. 
 
 Yet even this nakedness has power, 
 
 And aids the feeling of the hour : 
 
 Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, 
 
 Where living thing conceal'd 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 the 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 ; 
 
 1 MS. " At once upon the 1 Sl .. I brink ; 
 And just a line of pebbly sand." 
 
 , Uge 
 bare 
 
 3 MS. " Far traced upon the lake you view. 
 
 The hills' , 1 sides and sombre hue." 
 bare >
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 57 
 
 For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
 Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, 1 
 Yet still, beneath the hallowM soil, 
 The peasant rests him from his toil, 
 And, dying, bids his bones be laid, 
 Where erst his simple fathers pray'd. 
 
 If age had tamed the passions' strife, 2 
 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 long'd to spend his age. 3 
 
 1 The chapel of St. Mary of the Lowes (de lacutnis) was situ- 
 ated 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 during 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 chaplain's house are yet visible. 
 Being in a high situation, it commanded a full view of the lake, 
 with the opposite mountain of Bourhope, belonging, with the 
 lake itself, to Lord Napier. On the left hand is the tower of 
 Dryhope, mentioned in a preceding note. 
 
 2 A few of the lines which follow breathe as true a spirit 
 of peace and repose as even the simple strains of our venerable 
 Walton. Monthly Review. 
 
 9 And may at last my weary age 
 Find out the peaceful hermitage, 
 The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
 Where I may sit and rightly spell 
 Of every star that heaven doth show, 
 And every herb that sips the dew ;
 
 58 MARMION. 
 
 '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 gray ; " 
 
 Then gaze on Dryhope's ruin'd tower, 
 
 And think on Yarrow's faded Flower : 
 
 And when the 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; 1 
 
 On which no sunbeam ever shines 
 
 (So superstition's creed divines) 
 
 Till old experience do attain 
 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 
 II Penseroso. 
 
 1 At one corner of the burial-ground of the demolished chapel, 
 but without its precincts, is a small mound, called BinramSa 
 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 Ettrick Shepherd. 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.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 59 
 
 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, 1 
 
 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 ; 
 
 There ponder o'er some mystic lay, 
 
 Till the wild tale had all its sway, 2 
 
 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 clear'd, 3 
 
 And smiled to think that I had fear'd. 
 
 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. 
 
 1 JfS. " Spread through broad mist their snowy sail.'* 
 *MS. "Till/ancy wild had all her sway." 
 'MS. "Till from the task my brain I clear'd."
 
 60 MARMION. 
 
 Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease, 
 Such peaceful solitudes displease : 
 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 Loch-skene. 1 
 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 condemn'd to lave 
 Some demon's subterranean cave, 
 Who, prison'd by enchanter's spell, 
 Shakes the dark rock with groan and yelL 
 And well that Palmer's form and mien 
 
 1 Loch-skene is a mountain lake, of considerable size, at the 
 head of the Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is un- 
 commonly 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 "Gray 
 Mare's Tail." The "Giant's Grave," afterward mentioned, 
 is a sort of trench, which bears that name, a little way from 
 the foot of the cataract. It has the appearance of a battery, 
 designed to command the pass.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 61 
 
 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. 
 
 Marriott, thy harp, on Isis strung, 
 To many a Border theme has rung : 1 
 Then list to me, and thou shalt know 
 Of this mysterious Man of Woe. 
 
 1 See various ballads by Mr. Marriott, in the fourth volume 
 of the Border Minstrelsy.
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 
 THE CONVENT. 
 
 THE breeze, which swept away the smoke, 
 
 Bound Norham Castle roll'd, 
 When all the loud artillery spoke, 
 With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, 
 
 As Marmion left the Hold. 
 It curl'd not Tweed alone, that breeze, 
 For, far upon Northumbrian seas, 
 
 It freshly blew, and strong, 
 Where, from high Whitby's cloister'd pile, 1 
 
 1 The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, 
 on the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in conse- 
 quence of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It con- 
 tained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine order ; but, 
 contrary to what was usual in such establishments, the abbess 
 was superior to the abbott. The monastery was afterward 
 ruined by the Danes, and rebuilded by William Percy, in the 
 reign of the Conqueror. There were no nuns there in Henry 
 the Eighth's time, nor long before it. The ruins of Whitby 
 Abbey are very magnificent. 
 
 63
 
 64 MARMION. Canto IL 
 
 Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, 1 
 
 It bore a bark along. 
 Upon the gale she stoop'd her side, 
 And bounded o'er the swelling tide, 
 
 As she were dancing home ; 
 The merry seamen laugh'd, to see 
 Their gallant ship so lustily 
 
 Furrow the green sea-foam. 
 Much joy'd they in their honour'd 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, 
 
 1 Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was 
 called Holy Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery, 
 and from its having been the episcopal seat of the see of Dur- 
 ham during the early ages of British Christianity. A succes- 
 sion of holy men held that office : but their merits were 
 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 antiq- 
 uity. The arches are, in general, strictly Saxon ; and the 
 pillars which support them, short, strong, and massy. In 
 some places, however, there are pointed windows, which indi- 
 cate that the building has been repaired at a period long subse- 
 quent to the original foundation. The exterior ornaments of 
 the building, being of a light sandy stone, have been wasted, as 
 described in the text. Lindisfarne is not properly an island, 
 but rather, as the Venerable Bede has termed it, a semi-isle ; 
 for, although surrounded by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves
 
 Whifby. 
 
 Photogravure from Drawing by P. Dewint.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 65 
 
 Their first flight from the cage, 
 How timid, and how curious too, 
 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 shriek'd, because the seadog, nigh, 
 His round black head, and sparkling eye, 
 
 Eear'd o'er the foaming spray ; 
 And one would still adjust her veil, 
 Disorder'd by the summer gale, 
 Perchance lest some more worldly eye 
 Her dedicated charms might spy ; 
 Perchance, because such action graced 
 Her fair-turn'd arm and slender waist. 
 Light was each simple bosom there, 
 Save two, who ill might pleasure share, 
 The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. 
 
 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 
 
 the sands dry between it and the opposite coast of Northumber=- 
 land, from which it is about three miles distant. 
 
 5
 
 66 MARMION Canto II. 
 
 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, 1 
 To raise the convent's eastern tower ; 
 For this, with carving rare and quaint, 
 She deck'd the chapel of the saint, 
 And gave the relic-shrine of cost, 
 "With ivory and gems emboss'd. 
 The poor her Convent's bounty blest, 
 The pilgrim in its halls found rest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
 
 Ref orm'd on Benedictine school ; 
 
 Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ; 
 
 Vigils, and penitence austere, 
 
 Had early quench'd the light of youth, 
 
 But gentle was the dame, in sooth ; 
 
 Though vain of her religious sway, 
 
 She loved to see her maids obey, 
 
 1 MS. " ' Twas she that gave her ample dower . . . 
 ' Twas she, with carving rare and quaint, 
 Who deck'd the chapel of the saint."
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 67 
 
 Yet nothing stern was she in cell, 
 And the nuns loved their Abbess well 
 Sad was this voyage to the dame ; 
 Summon'd to Lindisfarne, she came, 
 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 unprofess'd, 
 Lovely and gentle, but distress'd. 
 She was betroth'd to one now dead, 
 Or worse, who had dishonour'd 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 wither'd bloom. 
 
 VI. 
 
 She sate upon the galley's prow, 
 And seem'd to mark the waves below ; 
 Nay, seem'd, so fix'd her look and eye, 
 To count them as they glided by.
 
 68 MARMION. Canto 
 
 She saw them not 'twas seeming all 
 Far other scene her thoughts recall, 
 A sun-scorch'd desert, waste and bare, 
 Nor waves, nor breezes, murnmr'd there ; 
 There saw she, where some careless hand 
 O'er a dead corpse had heap'd the sand, 
 To hide it till the jackals come, 
 To tear it from the scanty tomb. 
 See what a woful look was given, 
 As she raised up her eyes to heaven ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Lovely, and gentle, and distress'd 
 
 These charms might tame the fiercest breast : 
 
 Harpers have sung, and poets told, 
 
 That he, in fury uncontroll'd, 
 
 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 
 
 Prison'd in Cuthbert's islet gray. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now the vessel skirts the strand 
 Of mountainous Northumberland ;
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 69 
 
 Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, 
 
 And catch the nuns' delighted eyes. 
 
 Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay, 
 
 And Tynemouth's priory and bay ; 
 
 They mark'd, amid her trees, the hall 
 
 Of lofty Seaton-Delaval ; 
 
 They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods 
 
 Rush to the sea through sounding woods ; 
 
 They pass'd the tower of Widderington, 1 
 
 Mother of many a valiant son ; 
 
 At Coquet-isle their beads they tell 
 
 To the good Saint who own'd the cell ; 
 
 Then did the Alne attention claim, 
 
 And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name ; 
 
 And next, they cross'd themselves, to hear 
 
 The whitening breakers sound so near, 
 
 Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar, 
 
 On Dunstanborough's cavern'd shore ; 
 
 Thy tower, proud Bamborough, mark'd they there, 
 
 King Ida's castle, huge and square, 
 
 From its tall rock look grimly down, 
 
 And on the swelling ocean frown ; 
 
 Then from the coast they bore away, 
 
 And reach'd 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 style 
 Varies from continent to isle ; 
 1 See the notes on Chevy Chase. Percy's Eeliques.
 
 70 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day, 
 The pilgrims to the shrine find way ; 
 Twice every day, the waves efface 
 Of staves and sandall'd 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. 
 
 In Saxon strength that Abbey frown'd, 
 With massive arches broad and round, 
 
 That rose alternate, row and row, 
 
 On ponderous columns, short and low, 
 Built ere the art was known, 
 
 By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, 
 
 The arcades of an alley'd walk 
 
 To emulate in stone. 
 On the deep walls, the heathen Dane 
 Had pour'd his impious rage in vain ; 
 And needful was such strength to these, 
 Exposed to the tempestuous seas, 
 Scourged by the winds' 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, 
 Eebuilded in a later style,
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. Jl 
 
 ShowM where the spoiler's hand had been ; 
 Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen 
 Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, 
 And moulder'd in his niche the saint, 
 And rounded, with consuming power, 
 The pointed angles of each tower ; 
 Yet still entire the Abbey stood, 
 Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Soon as they near'd 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-drown'd amid the breakers' roar, 
 According chorus rose : 
 
 Down to the haven of the Isle, 
 
 The monks and nuns in order file, 
 
 From Cuthbert's cloisters grim ; 
 Banner, and cross, and relics 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, 
 Bush'd emulously through the flood, 
 
 To hale the bark to knd ; 
 Conspicuous by her veil and hood, 
 Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, 
 
 And bless'd them with her hand.
 
 72 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 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 unhallow'd eye, 
 
 The stranger sisters roam : 
 Till fell the evening damp with dew, 
 And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, 
 For there, even summer night is chill. 
 Then, having stray'd and gazed their fill, 
 
 They closed around the fire ; 
 And all, in turn, essay'd to paint 
 The rival merits of then- 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 ; 1 
 While horns blow out a note of shame, 
 And monks cry " Fye upon your name ! 
 In wrath, for loss of silvan game, 
 
 Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." 
 "This, on Ascension-day, each year, 
 While labouring on our harbour-pier, 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note G.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 73 
 
 Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear." 
 They told, how in their convent-cell 
 A Saxon princess once did dwell, 
 
 The lovely Edelfled; 1 
 And how, of thousand snakes, each one 
 Was changed into a coil of stone, 
 
 When holy Hilda pray'd ; 
 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, 2 
 
 1 She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to 
 Heaven for the great victory which he won in 655, against 
 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 afterward 
 adorned the place of her education with great magnificence. 
 
 3 These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient 
 writers who have occasion to mention either Whitby or St. 
 Hilda. The relics 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, Ammonitaz. 
 
 The other miracle is thus mentioned by Camden : " It is 
 also ascribed to the power of her sanctity, that these wild 
 geese, which, in the winter, fly in great flocks to the lakes and 
 rivers unfrozen in the southern parts, to the great amazement 
 of every one, fall down suddenly upon the ground when they 
 are in their flight over certain neighbouring 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, attribute it to some occult quality in the ground, 
 and to somewhat of antipathy between it and the geese, such as 
 they say is betwixt wolves and scyllaroots. For that such 
 hidden tendencies and aversions, as we call sympathies and 
 antipathies, are implanted in many things by provident Nature
 
 74 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 His body's resting-place, of old, 
 
 How oft their patron changed, they told ; * 
 
 for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident that every- 
 body grants it." Mr. Charlton, in his History of Whitby, 
 points out the true origin of the fable from the number of sea- 
 gulls that, when flying from a storm, often alight near Whitby ; 
 and from the woodcocks and other birds of passage who do 
 the same upon their arrival on shore after a long flight. 
 
 1 St. Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of 
 the most mutable and unreasonable saints in the calendar. He 
 died A. D. 688, in a hermitage upon the Fame Islands, having 
 resigned the bishopric of Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, about 
 two years before. 2 His body was brought to Lindisfarne, 
 where it remained until a descent of the Danes, about 793, 
 when the monastery was nearly destroyed. The monks fled 
 to Scotland with what they deemed their chief treasure, the 
 relics of St. Cuthbert. The saint was, however, a most capri- 
 cious fellow traveller ; which was the more intolerable, as, like 
 Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea, he journeyed upon the shoulders 
 of his companions. They paraded him through Scotland for 
 several years, and came as far west as Whithern, in Galloway, 
 whence they attempted to sail for Ireland, but were driven 
 back by tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham ; from 
 thence he went to Melrose, where he remained stationary for 
 a short time, and then caused himself to be launched upon the 
 Tweed in a stone coffin, which landed him at Tilmouth, in 
 Northumberland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, 
 three feet and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick ; 
 
 * He resumed the bishopric of Lindisfarne, which, owing to bad 
 health, he again relinquished within less than three months before 
 his death. Maine's St. Cuthbert.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 75 
 
 How, when the rude Dane burn'd 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 relics might repose ; 
 For, wondrous tale to tell ! 
 
 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 Tilmouth. From Tilmouth, 
 Cuthbert wandered into Yorkshire ; and at length made a long 
 stay at Chester-le-street, to which the bishop's see was trans- 
 ferred. At length, the Danes continuing to infest the country, 
 the monks removed to Rippon for a season ; and it was hi 
 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 sepul- 
 ture, which is only entrusted to three persons at a tune. When 
 one dies, the survivors associate to them, in his room, a person 
 judged fit to be the depositary of so valuable a secret. 
 
 The resting-place of the remains of this saint is not now 
 matter of uncertainty. So recently as 17th May, 1827, 1,139 
 years after his death, their discovery and disinterment were 
 effected. Under a blue stone, hi the middle of the shrine of St. 
 Cuthbert, at the eastern extremity of the choir of Durham 
 Cathedral, there was then found a walled grave, containing the 
 coffins of the saint. The first, or outer one, was ascertained to 
 be that of 1641, the second of 1041 ; the third, or inner one, 
 answering in every particular to the description of that of 689, 
 was found to contain, not indeed as had been averred then, and 
 even until 1539, the incorruptible body, but the entire skeleton
 
 76 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 In his stone-coffin forth he rides, 
 
 A ponderous bark for river tides, 
 
 Yet light as gossamer it glides, 
 Downward to Tilmouth cell 
 Nor long was his abiding there, 
 For southward did the saint repair ; 
 Chester-le-Street, and Rippon, saw 
 His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 
 
 Hail'd him with joy and fear ; 
 And, after many wanderings past, 
 He chose his lordly seat at last, 
 
 of the saint ; the bottom of the grave being perfectly dry, free 
 from offensive smell, and without the slightest symptom that 
 a human body had ever undergone decomposition within its 
 walls. The skeleton was found swathed in five silk robes of 
 emblematical embroidery, the ornamental parts laid with gold 
 leaf, and these again covered with a robe of linen. Beside the 
 skeleton were also deposited several gold and silver insignia, 
 and other relics of the saint. 
 
 (The Roman Catholics now allow that the coffin was that of 
 St. Cuthbert.) 
 
 The bones of the saint were again restored to the grave in 
 a new coffin, amid the fragments of the former ones. Those 
 portions of the inner coffin which could be preserved, including 
 one of its rings, with the silver altar, golden cross, stole, comb, 
 two maniples, bracelets, girdle, gold wire of the skeleton, and 
 fragments of the five silk robes, and some of the rings of the 
 outer coffin made in 1541, were deposited in the library of 
 the Dean and Chapter, where they are now preserved. 
 
 For ample details of the life of St. Cuthbert, his coffin- 
 journeys, an account of the opening of his tomb, and a 
 description of the silk robes and other relics found in it, the 
 reader interested in such matters is referred to a work entitled 
 Saint Cuthbert, by James Raine, M. A. (4to, Durham, 1828), 
 where he will find much of antiquarian history, ceremonies, 
 and superstitions, to gratify his curiosity. ED.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 77 
 
 Where his cathedral, huge and vast, 
 
 Looks down upon the Wear : 
 There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
 His relics 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. 1 
 Twas he, to vindicate his reign, 
 
 1 Every one has heard that when David I., with his son 
 Henry, invaded Northumberland in 1136, the English host 
 marched against them under the holy banner of St. Cuthbert ; 
 to the efficacy of which was imputed the great victory which 
 they obtained in the bloody battle of Northallerton, or Cuton- 
 moor. The conquerors were at least as much indebted to the 
 jealousy and intractability of the different tribes who composed 
 David's army ; among whom, as mentioned in the text, were 
 the Galwegians, the Britons of Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviot- 
 dale and Lothian, with many Norman and German warriors, 
 who asserted the cause of the Empress Maud. See Chalmers's 
 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 622 ; a most laborious, curious, and inter- 
 esting publication, from which considerable defects of style 
 and manner ought not to turn aside the Scottish antiquary.
 
 78 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane, 
 And turn'd the Conqueror back again, 1 
 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 Lindisfarne, 
 Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
 The sea-born beads that bear his name : 2 
 
 1 Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the 
 Danes, when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find, in 
 Simeon of Durham, that the saint appeared in a vision to 
 Alfred, when lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and 
 promised 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 terror spread 
 before his army, when he marched to punish the revolt of the 
 Northumbrians, in 1096, had forced the monks to fly once more 
 to Holy Island with the body of the saint. It was, however, 
 replaced before William left the North ; and, to balance ac- 
 counts, the Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet curiosity 
 to view the saint's body, he was, while in the act of command- 
 ing the shrine to be opened, seized with heat and sickness, 
 accompanied with such a panic terror, that, notwithstanding 
 there was a sumptuous dinner prepared for him, he fled with- 
 out eating a morsel (which the monkish historian seems to 
 have thought no small part both of the miracle and the pen- 
 ance), and never drew his bridle till he got to the river Tees. 
 
 2 Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his 
 life, such an artificer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, 
 since his death, he has acquired the reputation of forging those 
 Entrochi which are found among the rocks of Holy Island, 
 and pass there by the name of St. Cuthbert's Beads. While 
 at this task he is supposed to sit during the night upon a cer-
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 79 
 
 Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, 
 And said they might his shape behold, 
 
 And hear his anvil sound ; 
 A deaden'd clang, a huge dim form, 
 Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm 1 
 
 And night were closing round. 
 But this, as tale of idle fame, 
 The nuns of Lindisfarne disclaim. 
 
 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 2 built it, for his fault, 
 In penitence to dwell, 
 
 tain rock, and use another as his anvil. This story was per- 
 haps credited in former days ; at least the saint's legend 
 contains some not more probable. 
 
 1 MS. " Seen only when the gathering storm." 
 
 2 Ceolwulf , or Colwulf, King of Northumberland, flourished 
 in the eighth century. He was a man of some learning ; for 
 the Venerable Bede dictates to him his Ecclesiastical His- 
 tory. He abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to 
 Holy Island, where he died in the odour of sanctity. Saint as 
 Colwulf was, however, I fear the foundation of the penance- 
 vault does not correspond with his character ; for it is recorded 
 among his memorabilia, that, finding the air of the island raw 
 and cold, he indulged the monks, whose rule had hitherto con- 
 fined them to milk or water, with the comfortable privilege of 
 using wine or ale. If any rigid antiquary insists on this
 
 8o MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 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 call'd 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. 
 'Twas now a place of punishment ; 
 Whence if so loud a shriek were sent, 
 
 As reach'd the upper air, 
 The hearers bless'd themselves, and said, 
 The spirits of the sinful dead 
 
 Bemoan'd their torments there. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 But though, in the monastic pile, 
 Did of this penitential aisle 
 
 objection, he is welcome to suppose the penance-vault was 
 intended, by the founder, for the more genial purposes of a 
 cellar. 
 
 These penitential vaults were the Geissel-gewolbe of Ger- 
 man convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monas- 
 tic 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 also 
 served as places of meeting for the chapter, when measures of 
 uncommon severity were to be adopted. But their most fre- 
 quent use, as implied by the name, was as places for perform- 
 ing penances or undergoing punishment.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 81 
 
 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 blindf old when transported there. 
 In low dark rounds the arches hung, 
 From the rude rock the side- walls sprung ; 
 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, 1 in an iron chain, 2 
 Which served to light this drear domain, 
 With damp and darkness seem'd to strive, 
 As if it scarce might keep alive ; 
 And yet it dimly served to show 
 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 
 
 1 Antique chandelier. 
 
 8 MS. " Suspended by an iron chain, 
 
 A cresset showed this \ , > domain." 
 ( drear J
 
 82 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 On iron table lay ; l 
 In long black dress, on seats of stone, 
 Behind were these three judges shown 
 
 By the pale cresset's ray : 
 The Abbess of Saint Hilda's, there, 
 Sat 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, 2 
 
 And she with awe looks pale : 
 And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight 
 Has long been quench'd by age's night, 
 
 1 MS. " On stony table lay." 
 
 2 That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. 
 Its ruins are situated on a high rocky point ; and, doubtless, 
 many a vow was made to the shrine by the distressed mariners, 
 who drove toward the iron-bound coast of Northumberland in 
 stormy weather. It was anciently a nunnery ; 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 Whitby, and 
 of Holy Island, the introduction of nuns at Tynemouth, in the 
 reign of Henry VIII., is an anachronism. The nunnery at 
 Holy Island is altogether fictitious. Indeed, St. Cuthbert was 
 unlikely to permit such an establishment ; for, notwithstand- 
 ing his accepting the mortuary gifts above mentioned, and his 
 carrying on a visiting acquaintance with the Abbess of Cold- 
 inghain, he certainly hated the whole female sex ; and, in re- 
 venge of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, 
 he, after death, inflicted severe penances on such as presumed 
 to approach within a certain distance of his shrine.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 83 
 
 Upon whose wrinkled brow alone, 
 Nor truth, nor mercy's trace, is shown, 
 
 Whose look is hard and stern, 
 Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his style ; 
 For sanctity call'd, through the isle, 
 
 The Saint of Lindisfarne. 
 
 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 profess'd of Fontevraud, 
 Whom the church number'd with the dead, 
 For broken vows, and convent fled. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 When thus her face was given to view, 
 (Although so pallid was her hue,
 
 84 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 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. 1 
 
 1 The picture of Constance before her judges, though more 
 laboured (than that of the Voyage of the Lady Abbess), is not, 
 to our taste, so pleasing ; though it has beauty of a kind fully 
 as popular. Jeffrey. 
 
 I sent for Marmion, because it occurred to me there might 
 be a resemblance between part of Parisina, and a similar scene 
 in the second canto of Marmion. I fear there is, though I 
 never thought of it before, and could hardly wish to imitate 
 that which is inimitable. I wish you would ask Mr. Gifford 
 whether I ought to say anything upon it. I had completed 
 the story on the passage from Gibbon, which indeed leads to 
 a like scene naturally, without a thought of the kind ; but it 
 comes upon me not very comfortably. Lord Byron to Mr. 
 Murray, Feb. 3, 1816. Compare : 
 
 "... Parisina' s fatal charms 
 Again attracted every eye 
 Would she thus hear him doom'd to die ! 
 She stood, I said, all pale and still, 
 The living cause of Hugo's ill ; 
 Her eyes unmoved, but full and wide, 
 Not once had turn'd to either side 
 Nor once did those sweet eyelids close, 
 Or shade the glance o'er which they rose,
 
 Trial of Constance de 'Beverly. 
 
 Photogravure from Painting by T. E. Rosenthal.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 85 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Her comrade was a sordid soul, 
 
 Such as does murder for a meed ; 
 Who, but of fear, knows no control, 
 Because his conscience, sear'd and foul, 
 
 Feels not the import of his deed ; 
 One, whose brute-f eeling ne'er aspires 1 
 Beyond his own more brute desires. 
 Such tools the Tempter ever needs, 
 To do the savagest of deeds ; 
 For them no vision'd terrors daunt, 
 Their nights no fancied spectres haunt, 
 One fear with them, of all most base, 
 The fear of death, alone finds place. 
 This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, 
 And shamed not loud to moan and howl, 
 
 But round their orbs of deepest blue 
 
 The circling white dilated grew 
 
 And there with glassy gaze she stood 
 
 As ice were in her curdled blood ; 
 
 But every now and then a tear 
 So large and slowly gather'd slid 
 From the long dark fringe of that fair lid, 
 
 It was a thing to see, not hear ! 
 
 And those who saw, it did surprise, 
 
 Such drops could fall from human eyes. 
 
 To speak she thought the imperfect note 
 
 Was choked within her swelling throat, 
 
 Yet seem'd in that low hollow groan 
 
 Her whole heart gushing in the tone." 
 
 Byron's Works, vol. x. p. 171. 
 
 *In some recent editions this word had been erroneously 
 printed " inspires." The MS. has the correct line. 
 " One whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires."
 
 86 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, 
 Well might her paleness terror speak ! 
 For there was seen in that dark wall, 
 Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall ; 
 Who enters at such grisly 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, 
 Show'd the grim entrance of the porch : 
 ^Reflecting back the smoky beam, 
 The dark-red walls and arches gleam. 
 Hewn stones and cement were display'd,. 
 And building tools in order laid. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 These executioners were chose, 
 As men who were with mankind foes, 
 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 ;
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 87 
 
 For, as the vassals of her will, 
 Such men the Church selected still, 
 As either joy'd 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, nor knew not where. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And now that blind old Abbot rose, 
 
 To speak the Chapter's doom, 
 On those the wall was to enclose, 
 
 Alive, within the tomb ; l 
 But stopp'd, because that woful Maid, 
 Gathering her powers, to speak essayed. 
 Twice she essay'd, and twice in vain ; 
 Her accents might no utterance gain ; 
 
 1 It is well known that the religious, who broke their vows 
 of chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman 
 vestals in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to enclose 
 their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the convent ; a 
 slender pittance of food and water was deposited in it, and the 
 awful words, Vade in Pace, 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 posi- 
 tion of the figure, seemed to be that of an immured nun. 
 
 The Edinburgh Reviewer, on st. xxxii. post, suggests that 
 the proper reading of the sentence is vade in pacem not part 
 in peace, but go into peace, or into eternal rest, a pretty intel- 
 ligible mittimus to another world.
 
 88 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 Nought but imperfect murmurs slip 
 From her convulsed and quivering lip ; 
 'Twixt each attempt all was so still, 
 You seem'd 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 dawn'd upon her cheek, 
 A hectic and a flutter'd streak, 1 
 Like that left on the Cheviot peak, 
 
 By Autumn's stormy sky ; 
 And when her silence broke at length, 
 Still as she spoke she gather'd strength, 
 
 And arm'd herself to bear. 2 
 It was a fearful sight to see 
 
 1 MS. " A feeble and a flutter'd streak, 
 
 Like that with which the mornings break 
 In Autumn's sober sky." 
 
 2 Mr. S. has judiciously combined the horrors of the pun- 
 ishment with a very beautiful picture of the offender, so as 
 to heighten the interest which the situation itself must neces- 
 sarily excite ; and the struggle of Constance to speak, before 
 the fatal sentence, is finely painted. Monthly Eeoiew.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 89 
 
 Such high resolve and constancy, 
 In form so soft and fair. 1 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " I speak not to implore your grace, 2 
 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 your masses too. 
 
 1 MS. " And mann'd herself to bear. 
 It was a fearful thing to see 
 Such high resolve and constancy, 
 
 In form so soft and fair ; 
 Like Summer' 's dew her accents fell, 
 But dreadful was her tale to tell." 
 3 MS. " I speak not now to sue for grace, 
 
 For well I know one minute's space 
 
 Your mercy scarce would grant : 
 Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
 For if my penance be in vain, 
 
 Your prayers I cannot want. 
 Full well I know the church's doom, 
 What time I left a convent's gloom, 
 
 To fly with him I loved ; 
 And well my folly's meed he gave 
 I forfeited, to be a slave, 
 All here, and all beyond the grave, 
 
 And faithless hath he proved ; 
 He saw another's face more fair, 
 He saw her of broad lands the heir, 
 
 And Constance lov'd no more 
 Lov'd her no more, who, once Heaven's bride, 
 Now a scorned menial by his side, 
 
 Had wander'd Europe o'er."
 
 po MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 I listen'd to a traitor's tale, 
 
 I left the convent and the veil ; 
 
 For three long years I bow'd 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 betray'd for gold, 
 That loved, or was avenged, like me ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " The King approved his favourite's aim ; 
 In vain a rival barr'd his claim, 
 
 Whose fate with Clare's was plight, 
 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 pray'd, 
 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 ! '
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 91 
 
 Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide J 
 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, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Still was false Marmion's bridal staid ; 
 To Whitby's convent fled the maid, 
 
 The hated match to shun. 
 ' Ho ! shifts she thus ? ' King Henry cried, 
 ' Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, 
 
 If she were sworn a nun.' 
 One way remain'd the King's command 
 Sent Marmion to the Scottish land : 
 I linger'd 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 has undone us both. 
 
 1 MS. " Say ye, who preach the heavens decide 
 When in the lists the warriors ride."
 
 92 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " And now my tongue the secret tells, 
 Not that remorse my bosom swells, 
 But to assure my soul that none 
 Shall ever wed with Marmion. 1 
 Had fortune my last hope betray'd, 
 This packet, to the King convey'd, 
 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 Eome ! 
 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, 
 The ire of a despotic King 
 Hides 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, 
 
 1 The MS. adds : " His schemes reveal'd, his honour gone."
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 93 
 
 And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, 1 
 Marvel such relics here should ba" 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 Fix'd was her look, and stern her air : 
 Back from her shoulders streain'd her hair ; 
 The locks, that wont her brow to shade, 
 Stared up erectly from her head ; 2 
 Her figure seem'd to rise more high ; 
 Her voice, despair's wild energy 
 Had given a tone of prophecy. 
 Appall'd the astonish'd conclave sate ; 
 With stupid eyes, the men of fate 
 Gazed on the light inspired form, 
 And listen'd for the avenging storm ; 
 The judges felt the victim's dread ; 
 No hand was moved, no word was said, 
 Till thus the Abbot's doom was given, 
 Eaising his sightless balls to heaven : 
 " Sister, let thy sorrows cease ; 
 Sinful brother, part in peace ! " 3 
 
 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, 
 
 1 MS. " And, witless of priests' cruelty.'" 
 
 * MS. Stared up { ^V? I from her head. 
 
 ( uncurling \ 
 
 * See Note on Stanza xxv.
 
 94 MARMION. Canto II. 
 
 When they had glided from the cell 
 Of sin and misery. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 An hundred winding steps convey 
 That conclave to the upper day ; 1 
 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 cross'd themselves for terror's sake, 
 
 As hurrying, tottering on : 
 Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, 2 
 They seem'd 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 roll'd, 
 His beads the wakeful hermit told, 
 
 1 MS. "From that dark penance vault to day." 
 
 2 MS. " That night amid the vesper's swell, 
 
 They thought they heard Constantia's yell, 
 And bade the mighty bell to toll, 
 For welfare of a passing soul." 
 
 The sound of the knell that was rung for the parting soul 
 of this victim of seduction, is described with great force and 
 solemnity. Jeffrey. 
 
 The whole of this trial and doom presents a high-wrought 
 scene of horror, which, at the close, rises almost to too great a 
 pitch. Scots Mag., March, 1808.
 
 Canto II. THE CONVENT. 95 
 
 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, 
 Spread his broad nostril to the wind, 
 Listed before, aside, behind, 
 Then couch'd him down beside the hind, 
 And quaked among the mountain fern, 
 To hear that sound, so dull and stern.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 To William Erskine, 
 
 Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 
 LIKE April morning clouds, that pass, 
 With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
 And imitate, on field and furrow, 
 Life's chequer'd 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, 
 And ever swells again as fast, 
 When the ear deems its murmur past ; 
 
 1 William Erskine, Esq., advocate, Sheriff-depute of the Ork- 
 neys, became a Judge of the Court of Session by the title of 
 Lord Kinnedder, and died at Edinburgh in August, 1822. He 
 had been from early youth the most intimate of the Poet's 
 friends, and his chief confidant and adviser as to all literary 
 matters. See a notice of his life and character by the late Mr. 
 Hay Donaldson, to which Sir Walter Scott contributed several 
 paragraphs. ED. 
 
 7 97
 
 98 MARMION. 
 
 Thus various, my romantic theme 
 Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 
 Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 
 Of Light and Shade's inconstant race; 
 Pleased, views the rivulet afar, 
 Weaving its maze irregular ; 
 And pleased, we listen as the breeze 
 Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees ; 
 Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 
 Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale ! 
 
 Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell 
 I love the license all too well, 
 In sounds now lowly, and now strong, 
 To raise the desultory song ? 1 
 Oft, when 'mid such capricious chime, 
 Some transient fit of lofty rhyme 
 To thy kind judgment seem'd excuse 
 For many an error of the muse, 
 Oft hast thou said, " If, still misspent, 
 Thine hours to poetry are lent, 2 
 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 ; 
 
 1 MS. " With sound now lowly, and now higher, 
 
 Irregular to wake the lyre." 
 
 2 MS. " Thine hours to thriftless rhyme are lent."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 99 
 
 From them, and from the paths they showed, 
 Choose honour'd 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 1 
 Yields topic meet for classic rhyme ? 
 Hast thou no elegiac verse 
 For Brunswick's venerable hearse ? 
 What ! not a line, a tear, a sigh, 
 When valour bleeds for liberty ? 
 Oh, hero of that glorious time, 
 When, with unrivaU'd light sublime, 
 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 quench'd in Jena's stream. 
 Lamented Chief ! it was not given 
 To thee to change the doom of Heaven, 
 And crush that dragon in its birth, 
 Predestined scourge of guilty earth. 
 
 1 MS. " Dost thou not deem our later day 
 Yields topic meet for classic lay ? 
 Hast thou no elegiac tone 
 To join that universal moan, 
 Which mingled with the battle's yell, 
 Where venerable Brunswick fell ? 
 What ! not a verse, a tear, a sigh, 
 When valour bleeds for liberty ? "
 
 loo MARMION. 
 
 Lamented Chief ! not thine the power, 
 To save in that presumptuous hour, 
 When Prussia hurried to the field, 
 And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield ! 
 Valour and skill 'twas thine to try, 
 And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die. 
 Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair 
 The last, the bitterest pang to share, 
 For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven, 
 And birthrights to usurpers given ; 
 Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, 
 And witness woes thou couldst not heal ! 
 On thee relenting Heaven bestows 
 For honour'd lif e an honour'd close ; l 
 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, 
 
 . "For honour'd life an honour'd close 
 The boon which falling heroes crave, 
 A soldier's death, a warrior's grave. 
 Or if, with more exulting swell, 
 Of conquering chiefs thou lovest to tell, 
 Give to the harp an unheard strain, 
 And sing the triumphs of the main 
 Of him the Eed-Cross hero teach, 
 Dauntless on Acre's bloody breach, 
 And, scorner of tyrannic power, 
 As dauntless in the Temple's tower : 
 Alike to him the sea, the shore, 
 The brand, the bridle, or the oar, 
 The general's eye, the pilot's art, 
 The soldier's arm, the sailor's heart. 
 Or if to touch such chord be thine," etc.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 101 
 
 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 
 Its votaries to the shatter'd walls, 
 Which the grim Turk, besmear'd with blood, 
 Against the Invincible made good ; 
 Or that, whose thundering voice could wake 
 The silence of the polar lake, 
 When stubborn Euss, and metal'd Swede, 
 On the warp'd wave their death-game play'd ; 
 Or that, where Vengeance and Affright 
 Howl'd round the father of the fight, 
 Who snatch'd, on Alexandria's sand, 
 The conqueror's wreath with dying hand. 2 
 
 " 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 roll'd o'er ; 
 When she, the bold Enchantress, 3 came, 
 With fearless hand and heart on flame ! 
 From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, 
 And swept it with a kindred measure, 
 
 1 Sir Sidney Smith. a Sir Ralph Abercromby. 
 
 * Joanna Baillie.
 
 102 MARMION 
 
 Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove 
 "With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, 
 Awakening at the inspired strain, 
 Deem'd their own Shakespeare lived again " 
 
 Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, 
 With praises not to me belonging, 
 In task more meet for mightiest powers, 
 Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours. 
 But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd 
 That secret power by all obey'd, 
 Which warps not less the passive mind, 
 Its source conceal'd 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 term'd the sway 
 Of habit, form'd in early day ? 
 Howe'er derived, its force confest 
 Rules with despotic sway the breast, 
 And drags us on by viewless chain, 
 While taste and reason plead in vain. 1 
 
 1 As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath, 
 Receives the lurking principle of death ; 
 The young disease, that must subdue at length, 
 Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength 
 So, cast and mingled with his very frame, 
 The Mind's disease, its Ruling Passion came ; 
 Each vital humour which should feed the whole, 
 Soon flows to this, in body and in soul :
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 103 
 
 Look east, and ask the Belgian why, 
 Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, 
 He seeks not eager to inhale 
 The freshness of the mountain gale, 
 Content to rear his whiten'd 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 weatherbeaten hind, 
 Whose sluggish herds before him wind, 
 Whose tatter'd plaid and rugged cheek 
 His northern clime and kindred speak ; 
 Through England's laughing meads he goes, 
 And England's wealth around him flows ; 
 Ask, if it would content him well, 
 At ease in those 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 ; 
 Not for fair Devon's meads forsake 
 Bennevis gray, and Garry's lake. 
 
 Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head, 
 
 As the mind opens, and its functions spread, 
 
 Imagination plies her dangerous art, 
 
 And pours it all upon the peccant part. 
 
 Nature its mother, Habit is its nurse ; 
 
 Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worse ; 
 
 Reason itself but gives it edge and power ; 
 
 As Heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour, etc. 
 
 Pope's Essay on Man*
 
 104 MARMION. 
 
 Thus while I ape the measure wild 
 Of tales that charm'd me yet a child, 
 Kude though they be, still with the chime 
 Return the thoughts of early time ; 
 And feelings, roused in life's first day, 
 Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. 
 Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, 
 Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. 1 
 Though no broad river swept along, 
 To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 
 Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, 
 To prompt of love a softer tale ; 
 Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 
 Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed ; 
 Yet was poetic impulse given, 
 By the green hill and clear blue heaven. 
 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, 2 
 And honeysuckle loved to crawl 
 Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. 
 I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade 
 The sun in all its round survey'd ; 
 And still I thought that shatter'd tower 3 
 
 1 MS. " The lonely hill, the rocky tower, 
 
 That caught attention's wakening hour." 
 2 MS. " Recesses where the woodbine grew." 
 a Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the au-
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 105 
 
 The mightiest work of human power; 
 
 And marvell'd as the aged hind 
 
 With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind, 
 
 Of forayers, who, with headlong force, 
 
 Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, 
 
 Their southern rapine to renew, 
 
 Far in the distant Cheviots blue, 
 
 And, home returning, fill'd the hall 
 
 With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl. 1 
 
 Methought that still with trump and clang, 
 
 The gateway's broken arches rang ; 
 
 Methought grim features, seam'd 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' slights, 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 stretch'd at length upon the floor, 2 
 
 Again I fought each combat o'er, 
 
 thor's infany, is situated about two miles from Dryburgh 
 Abbey. 
 
 1 The two next couplets are not in the MS. 
 a MS. " While still with mimic hosts of shells, 
 Again my sport the combat tells 
 Onward the Scottish Lion bore, 
 The scatter'd Southron fled before."
 
 106 MARMION. 
 
 Pebbles and shells, in order laid, 
 The mimic ranks of war display'd ; 
 And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, 
 And still the scatter'd Southron fled before. 1 
 
 Still, with vain fondness, could I trace, 
 Anew, each kind familiar face, 
 That brighten'd at our evening fire ! 
 From the thatch'd mansion's gray-hair'd Sire, 2 
 Wise without learning, plain and good, 
 And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood ; 
 Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen, 
 Show'd what in youth its glance had been ; 
 Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
 Content with equity unbought ; 3 
 To him the venerable Priest, 
 Our frequent and familiar guest, 
 Whose life and manners well could paint 
 Alike the student and the saint ; 4 
 
 1 See notes on The Eve of St. John, in the Border Minstrelsy* 
 vol. iv. ; and the Author's Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. i. 
 
 2 Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the poet. 
 
 8 Upon revising the poem, it seems proper to mention that 
 the lines, 
 
 " Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
 Content with equity unbought ; " 
 
 have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's 
 
 beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton. 1808. Note 
 
 to Second Edit. 
 
 *MS. " The student, gentleman, and saint." 
 
 The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin, 
 
 minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is 
 
 situated.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 107 
 
 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, caress'd. 
 
 For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask 
 The classic poet's well-conn'd task ? 
 Nay, Erskine, nay On the wild hill 
 Let the wild heath-bell nourish still ; 
 Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, 
 But freely let the woodbine twine, 
 And leave untrimm'd the eglantine : 
 Nay, my friend, nay Since oft thy praise 
 Hath given fresh vigour to my lays ; 
 Since oft thy judgment could refine 
 My flatten'd 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 unrestrain'd, my Tale !
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 
 
 THE livelong day Lord Marmion rode : 
 The mountain path the Palmer shoVd 
 By glen and streamlet winded still, 
 Where stunted birches hid the rilL 
 They might not choose the lowland road, 1 
 For the Merse forayers were abroad, 
 Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, 
 Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. 
 Oft on the trampling band, from crown 
 Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd 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, 
 
 1 MS. " They might not choose the easier road, 
 For many a foray er was abroad." 
 109
 
 no MARMION. Canto II I. 
 
 By which the naked peak they wan, 
 
 Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. 
 
 The noon had long been pass'd before 
 
 They gain'd the height of Lammermoor ; 1 
 
 Thence winding down the northern way, 
 
 Before them, at the close of day, 
 
 Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay. 2 
 
 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, 
 
 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 flagon trimly placed, 
 
 Lord Marmion drew his rein : 
 The village inn seem'd large, though rude ; 3 
 
 1 See notes to The Bride of Lammermoor. Waverley Novels. 
 
 8 The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Hadding- 
 ton ; close to it is Tester House, the seat of the Marquis of 
 Tweeddale, and a little farther up the stream, which descends 
 from the hills of Lammermoor, are the remains of the old castle 
 of the family. 
 
 8 The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the 
 16th century, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable tale 
 of The Friars of Berwick. Simon Lawder, "the gay ostlier," 
 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 Bordeaux wine. At least, if
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. HI 
 
 Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
 
 Might well relieve his train. 
 Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 
 With jingling spurs the courtyard rung ; 
 They bind their horses to the stall, 
 For forage, food, and firing call, 
 And various clamour fills the hall : 
 Weighing the labour with the cost, 
 Toils everywhere the bustling host. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, 
 Through the rude hostel might you gaze ; 
 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 Scottish inns were not good, it was not for want of encour- 
 agement 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 anywhere 
 except in these hostellaries ; and that no person, save innkeep- 
 ers, should receive such travellers, under the penalty of forty 
 shillings, for exercising such hospitality. 1 But, in spite of 
 these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but indif- 
 ferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the houses 
 of individuals. 
 
 1 James I. Parliament I. cap. 24 ; Parliament III. cap. 66.
 
 112 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 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 view'd 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. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Theirs was the glee of martial breast, 
 And laughter theirs at little jest ; 
 And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, 
 And mingle in the mirth they made ; 
 For though, with men of high degree, 
 The proudest of the proud was he, 
 Yet, train'd 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 heart 
 From India's fires to Zembla's frost.
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 113 
 
 V. 
 
 Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 
 
 Right opposite the Palmer stood ; 
 His thin dark visage seen but half, 
 
 Half hidden by his hood. 
 Still fix'd 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, 1 
 
 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 whisper'd forth his mind : 
 Saint Mary ! saVst thou e'er such sight ? 
 How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
 Whene'er the firebrand'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" 
 
 1 MS. " Full met their eyes' encountering glance.'* 
 8
 
 II 4 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But Marmion, as to chase the awe 
 
 Which thus had quell'd their hearts, who saw 
 
 The ever-varying firelight show 
 
 That figure stern and face of woe, 
 
 Now call'd upon a squire : 
 * Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, 
 To speed the lingering night away ? 
 
 We slumber by the fire." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " So please you," thus the youth rejoin'd, 
 " Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 
 
 Ill may we hope to please your ear, 
 
 Accustom'd 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 springtide 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, 
 
 Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern, 
 
 Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Now must I venture, as I may, 
 
 To sing his favourite roundelay." 
 
 IX. 
 
 A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, 
 The air he chose was wild and sad ;
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 115 
 
 Such have I heard, in Scottish land, 
 Eise from the busy harvest band, 
 When falls before the mountaineer, 
 On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. 
 Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 
 Now a wild chorus swells the song : 
 Oft have I listen'd, and stood still, 
 As it came soften'd up the hill, 
 And deem'd it the lament of men 
 Who languish'd for their native glen ; 
 And thought how sad would be such sound, 
 On Susquehana's swampy ground, 
 Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, 
 Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 
 Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 
 RecalTd fair Scotland's hills again ! 
 
 X. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Where shall the lover rest, 
 
 Whom the fates sever 
 From his true maiden's breast, 
 
 Parted for ever? 
 Where, through groves deep and high, 
 
 Sounds the far billow, 
 Where early violets die, 
 
 Under the willow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Meu loro, etc. Soft shall be his pillow.
 
 Il6 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 There, through the summer day, 
 
 Cool streams are laving; 
 There, while the tempests sway, 
 
 Scarce are boughs waving; 
 There, thy rest shalt thou take, 
 
 Parted for ever, 
 Never again to wake, 
 
 Never, never ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Eleu loro, etc. Never, never ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Where shall the traitor rest, 
 
 He, the deceiver, 
 Who could win maiden's breast, 
 
 Euin, and leave her ? 
 In the lost battle, 
 
 Borne down by the flying, 
 Where mingles war's rattle 
 
 With groans of the dying. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Eleu loro, etc. There shall he be lying. 
 
 Her wing shall the eagle flap 
 
 O'er the false-hearted ; 
 His warm blood the wolf shall lap, 
 
 Ere life be parted. 
 Shame and dishonour sit 
 
 By his grave ever ;
 
 Canto I II. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 117 
 
 Blessing shall hallow it, 
 Never, O never ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Eleu loro, etc. Never, never ! 
 
 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 plain'd 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 wish'd to be their prey, 
 For Lutterward and Fontenaye. 
 
 xni. 
 
 High minds, of native pride and force, 
 Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse ! 
 Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, 
 Thou art the torturer of the brave ! 
 Yet fatal strength they boast to steel 
 Their minds to bear the wounds they feel,
 
 Il8 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 Even while they writhe beneath the smart 
 Of civil conflict in the heart. 
 For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, 
 And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, 
 " Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 
 Seem'd 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 livelong day he had not spoke,) 
 " The death of a dear friend." l 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Marmion, whose steady heart and eye 
 Ne'er changed in worst extremity ; 
 
 1 Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among 
 the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the "dead-bell," ex- 
 plained by my friend, James Hogg, to be that tinkling in the 
 ears which the country people regard as the secret intelligence 
 of some friend's decease. He tells a story to the purpose in 
 the Mountain Bard, p. 26. 
 
 " O lady, 'tis dark, an' I heard the dead-bell ! 
 An' I darena gae yonder for gowd nor fee." 
 
 By the dead-bell is meant a tinkling in the ears, which our 
 peasantry in the country regard as a secret intelligence of 
 some friend's decease. Thus this natural occurrence strikes 
 many with a superstitious awe. This reminds me of a trifling 
 anecdote, which I will here relate as an instance : Our two 
 servant-girls agreed to go an errand of their own, one night 
 after supper, to a considerable distance, from which I strove 
 to persuade them, but could not prevail. So, after going to 
 the apartment where I slept, I took a drinking-glass, and, 
 coming close to the back of the door, made two or three sweeps
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 119 
 
 Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 
 Even from his King, a haughty look ; l 
 Whose accent of command controll'd, 
 In camps, the boldest of the bold 
 Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now, 
 Fall'n was his glance, and flush'd 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 veil their eyes 
 
 Before their meanest slave. 
 
 
 
 XV. 
 
 Well might he falter ! By his aid 
 Was Constance Beverley betray'd. 
 
 round the lips of the glass with my finger, which caused a loud 
 shrill sound. I then overheard the following dialogue : " B. Ah r 
 mercy ! the dead-bell went through my head just now with, 
 such a knell as I never heard." " 7. I heard it too." " B. Did 
 you indeed ? That is remarkable. I never knew of two hear- 
 ing it at the same time before. " " I. We will not go to Midge- 
 hope to-night." " B. I would not go for all the world. I shall 
 warrant it is my poor brother Wat ; who knows what these- 
 wild Irishes may have done to him?" Hogg's Mountain 
 Bard, 3d Edit. p. 31-2. 
 
 1 MS. " Marmion, whose pride ) , , 
 
 } could never brook, 
 Whose haughty soul ) 
 
 Even from his King, a scornful look."
 
 120 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 Not that he augur'd of the doom, 
 Which on the living closed the tomb : 
 But, tired to hear the desperate maid l 
 Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid ; 
 And wroth, because in wild despair, 2 
 She practised on the life of Clare ; 
 Its fugitive the Church he gave, 
 Though not a victim, but a slave ; 
 And deem'd restraint in convent strange 
 Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge. 
 Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, 
 Held Eomish 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 deem'd the favourite page 
 Was left behind, to spare his age ; 
 Or other if they deem'd, none dared 
 To mutter what he thought and heard : 
 Woe to the vassal, who durst pry 
 Into Lord Marmion's privacy ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 His conscience slept he deem'd her well, 
 And safe secured in distant cell ; 
 But, waken'd by her favourite lay, 
 And that strange Palmer's boding say, 
 
 1 MS. " But tired to hear the furious maid." 
 3 MS. " Incensed, because in wild despair."
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 1 21 
 
 That fell so ominous and drear, 
 Full on the object of his fear, 
 To aid remorse's venom'd throes, 
 Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose ; 
 And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, 
 All lovely on his soul return'd ; 
 Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 
 She left her convent's peaceful wall, 
 Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute, 
 Dreading alike escape, pursuit, 
 Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 
 Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Alas ! " he thought, " how changed that mien ! 
 How changed these timid looks have been, 1 
 Since years of guilt, and of disguise, 
 Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd 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 ! 
 
 i The MS. reads: 
 
 " Since fiercer passions wild and high, 
 Have flushed her cheek with deeper dye, 
 And years of guilt, and of disguise, 
 Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes, 
 And I the cause for whom were given 
 Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven 1 
 How will her ardent spirit swell, 
 And chafe within the narrow cell 1 "
 
 122 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 Would," thought he, as the picture grows, 
 " I on its stalk had left the rose ! 
 Oh, why should man's success remove 
 The very charms that wake his love ! 
 Her convent's peaceful solitude 
 Is now a prison harsh and rude ; 
 And, pent within the narrow cell, 
 How will her spirit chafe and swell ! 
 How brook the stern monastic laws ! 
 The penance how and I the cause ! 
 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 
 Eepentance 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 : 
 " Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 
 From Scotland's simple land away, 1 
 
 1 MS. " From this plain simple land away.' 1
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTED, OR INN 123 
 
 To visit realms afar, 
 Full often learn the art to know 
 Of future weal, or future woe, 
 
 By word, or sign, or star; 
 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. 
 
 THE HOST'S TALE. 
 
 * A Clerk could tell what years have flown 
 Since Alexander fill'd 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, 1 
 
 1 A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Tes- 
 ter (for it bears either name indifferently), the construction of 
 which has from a very remote period been ascribed to magic. 
 The Statistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro 
 gives the following account of the present state of this castle 
 and apartment : " Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of
 
 124 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay 
 Gave you that cavern to survey. 
 Of lofty roof, and ample size, 
 Beneath the castle deep it lies : 
 To hew the li ving rock profound, 
 The floor to pave, the arch to round, 
 There never toil'd 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 artisans of hell, 
 Who labour'd under Hugo's spell, 
 
 Hopes on the east, and a large rivulet on the west, stands the 
 ancient castle of Tester. Sir David Dalrymple, in his Annals, 
 relates that ' Hugh Gifford de Tester died in 1267 ; that in his 
 castle there was a capacious cavern, formed by magical art, 
 and called in the country Bo-Hall, i. e. Hobgoblin Hall.' A 
 stair of twenty-four steps led down to this apartment, which is 
 a large and spacious hall, with an arched roof ; and though 
 it hath stood for so many centuries, and been exposed to 
 the external air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is still as 
 firm and 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 Tester was 
 the last fortification, in this country, that surrendered to Gen- 
 eral Gray, sent into Scotland by Protector Somerset." Statis- 
 tical Account, vol. xiii. I have only to add that, in 1737, the 
 Goblin Hall was tenanted by the Marquis of Tweeddale's fal- 
 coner, as I learn from a poem from Boyse, entitled Retirement, 
 written upon visiting Tester. It is now rendered inaccessible 
 by the fall of the stair. 
 
 Sir David Dairy mple's authority for the anecdote is in For- 
 dun, whose words are: "A. D. mcclxvii. Hugo Giffard de 
 Tester moritur ; cujus castrum, vel saltern caveam, et dongionem,
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 125 
 
 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 muster'd all his host, 
 To meet upon the western coast : 
 For Norse and Danish galleys plied 
 Their oars within the frith of Clyde. 
 There floated Haco's banner trim, 1 
 Above Norweyan warriors grim, 2 
 Savage of heart, and large of limb ; 
 Threatening both continent and isle, 
 Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. 
 Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, 
 Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 
 
 arte doemonicd antiquaz relationesferuntfabr/factos : nam ibidem 
 habetur miraJbUis specus subterraneus, opere mirifico constructus, 
 magno terrarum spatio protelatus, qui communiter J3o=J^all 
 appellatus est." 1 " 1 Lib. X. cap. 21. Sir David conjectures that 
 Hugh de Gifford must either have been a very wise man, or a 
 great oppressor. 
 
 1 In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Frith of 
 Clyde with a powerful armament, and made a descent at Largs, 
 in Ayrshire. Here he was encountered and defeated, on the 
 2d October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated to Orkney, 
 where he died soon after this disgrace to his arms. There are 
 still existing, near the place of battle, many barrows, some of 
 which, having been opened, were found, as usual, to contain 
 bones and urns. 
 
 * MS. " There floated Haco's banner grim, 
 
 O'er fierce of heart and large of limb."
 
 126 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 And tarried not his garb to change, 
 
 But, in his wizard habit strange, 1 
 
 Came forth, a quaint and fearful sight ; 
 
 His mantle lined with fox-skins white ; 
 
 His high and wrinkled forehead bore 
 
 A pointed cap, such as of yore 
 
 Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore : 
 
 His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell, 
 
 Upon his breast a pentacle ; 2 
 
 His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 
 
 Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin, 
 
 Bore many a planetary sign, 
 
 Combust, and retrograde, and trine ; 3 
 
 And in his hand he held prepared, 
 
 A naked sword without a guard. 
 
 1 " 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 cabalistical names, with 
 crosses, trines, and circles inscribed on them. Their shoes 
 should be of new russet leather, with a cross cut upon them. 
 Their knives are dagger-fashion ; and their swords have neither 
 guard nor scabbard. " See these, and many other particulars, 
 in the Discourse concerning Devils and Spirits, annexed to 
 Reginald Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, edition 1665. 
 
 2 " A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five corners, 
 according to the five senses, and suitably inscribed with char- 
 acters. This the magician extends toward the spirits which he 
 invokes, when they are stubborn and rebellious, and refuse to 
 be conformable unto the ceremonies and rites of magic." See 
 the Discourses, etc., above mentioned, p. 66. 
 
 8 MS. "Bare many a character and sign, 
 Of planets retrograde and trine."
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 127 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Dire dealings with the fiendish race 
 Had mark'd strange lines upon his face ; 
 Vigil and fast had worn him grim, 
 His eyesight dazzled seem'd and dim, 
 As one unused to upper day ; 
 Even his own menials with dismay 
 Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire, 
 In his unwonted wild attire ; 
 Unwonted, for traditions run, 
 He seldom thus beheld the sun. 
 
 * I know,' he said, his voice was hoarse, 
 And broken seem'd its hollow force, 
 
 ' I know the cause, although untold, 
 Why the King seeks his vassal's hold : 
 Vainly from me my liege would know 
 His kingdom's future weal or woe ; 
 But yet, if strong his arm and heart, 
 His courage may do more than art. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 * ' Of middle air the demons proud, 
 Who ride upon the racking cloud, 
 Can read, in fix'd or wandering star, 
 The issue of events afar ; 
 But still their sullen aid withhold, 
 Save when by mightier force controlTd. 
 Such late I summon'd to my hall ; 
 And though so potent was the call, 
 That scarce the deepest nook of hell 
 I deem'd a refuge from the spell,
 
 128 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 Yet, obstinate in silence still, 
 
 The haughty demon mocks my skill. 
 
 But thou, who little know'st thy might, 
 
 As born upon that blessed night l 
 
 When yawning graves, and dying groan, 
 
 Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown, 
 
 With untaught valour shalt compel 
 
 Eesponse denied to magic spell.' 2 
 * Gramercy,' quoth our Monarch free, 
 Place him but front to front with me, 
 
 And, by this good and honour'd brand, 
 
 The gift of Cceur-de-Lion's hand, 
 
 Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide, 
 
 The demon shall a buffet bide.' 3 
 
 His bearing bold the wizard view'd, 
 
 And thus, well pleased, his speech renew'd : 
 ' 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, 
 
 1 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 imputed the 
 haggard and downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disagree- 
 able visions to which this privilege subjected him. 
 
 2 MS. "With untaught valour mayst compel 
 What is denied to magic spell." 
 
 * MS. " Bicker and buffet he shall bide." 
 
 A if a L . o i ( that ) , , camp which ) 
 4 MS. ' ' Seek -} old } as a crown." 
 
 ( yon ) ( trench that >
 
 Canto I I I. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 129 
 
 And trust thine elfin foe to see, 
 In guise of thy worst enemy : 
 Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed 
 Upon him ! and Saint George to speed 1 
 If he go down, thou soon shalt know 
 Whate'er these airy sprites can show ; 
 If thy heart fail thee in the strife, 
 I am no warrant for thy life.' 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Soon as the midnight bell did ring, 
 Alone, and arm'd, forth rode the King 
 To that old camp's deserted round : 1 
 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 ! 
 The breadth across, a bowshot clear, 
 Gives ample space for full career ; 
 Opposed to the four points of heaven, 
 By four deep gaps are entrance given. 
 The southernmost our Monarch past, 2 
 Halted, and blew a gallant blast ; 
 
 1 MS. " Alone, and ann'd, rode forth the King 
 
 To that encampment's haunted round.'* 
 2 JfS. "The southern gate our Monarch past.'* 
 9
 
 1 3 o MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 And on the north, within the ring, 
 Appear'd the form of England's King, 
 Who then, a thousand leagues afar, 
 In Palestine waged holy war : 
 Yet arms like England's did he wield, 
 Alike the leopards in the shield, 
 Alike his Syrian courser's frame, 
 The rider's length of limb the same : 
 Long afterwards did Scotland know, 
 Fell Edward 1 was her deadliest foe. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The vision made our Monarch start, 
 But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 
 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 
 Compell'd 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 brandish'd war-axe wield, 
 
 And strike proud Haco from his car, 
 While all around the shadowy Kings 
 Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their wings. 
 1 Edward I., surnamed Longshanks.
 
 Canto I II. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 131 
 
 Tis said, that, in that awful night, 
 Remoter visions met his sight, 
 Foreshowing future conquests far, 1 
 When our sons' sons wage northern war ; 
 A royal city, tower and spire, 
 Redden'd the midnight sky with fire, 
 And shouting crews her navy bore, 
 Triumphant, to the victor shore. 2 
 Such signs may learned clerks explain, 
 They pass the wit of simple swain. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " The joyful King turn'd home again, 
 Headed his host, and quell'd the Dane ; 
 But yearly, when return'd 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, 
 
 1 JtfS. " To be fulfill'd in times afar, 
 
 When our sons' sons wage northern war ; 
 A royal city's towers and spires 
 Redden'd the midnight sky with fires, 
 And shouting crews her navy bore, 
 Triumphant, from the vanquish'd shore." 
 
 *For an account of the expedition to Copenhagen in 1801, 
 see Southey's Life of Nelson, chap. vii.
 
 132 MARMION. Canto I 
 
 Our Lady give him rest ! 
 Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
 The Elfin Warrior doth wield, 
 
 Upon the brown hill's breast ; * 
 And many a knight hath proved his chance, 
 In the charm'd ring to break a lance, 
 
 But all have foully sped ; 
 Save two, as legends tell, and they 
 Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay. 
 
 Gentles, my tale is said." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The quaighs 2 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 ; 
 For pillow, underneath each head, 
 The quiver and the targe were laid. 
 Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, 3 
 Oppress'd with toil and ale, they snore : 
 The dying flame, in fitful change, 
 Threw on the group its shadows strange. 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note H. 
 
 2 A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together. 
 8 MS. " Deep slumbering on the floor of clay/ 
 
 Oppress'd with toil and ale, they lay ; 
 
 The dying flame, in fitful change, 
 
 Threw on them lights and shadows strange.'*'
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 133 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 Apart, and nestling in the hay 
 Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay ; 
 Scarce, by the pale moonlight, were seen 
 The foldings of his mantle green : 
 Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream, 
 Of sport by thicket, or by stream, 
 Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove, 
 Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. 
 'A cautious tread his slumber broke, 
 And, close beside him, when he woke, 
 In moonbeam half, and half in gloom, 
 Stood a tall form, with nodding plume ; 
 But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
 His master Marmion's voice he knew. 1 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " 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 ; 2 
 And, gentle Eustace, take good heed 
 Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ; 
 I would not, that the prating knaves 
 
 1 MS. " But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
 
 It spoke Lord Marmion's voice he knew." 
 *MS. Come down and saddle me my steed."
 
 134 MARMION. Canto III. 
 
 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 array'd, 
 While, whispering, thus the Baron said : 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, 
 That on the hour when I was born, 
 
 Saint George, who graced my sire's chapelle, 
 
 Down from his steed of marble fell, 
 A weary wight forlorn ? 
 
 The flattering chaplains all agree, 
 
 The champion left his steed to me. 
 
 I would, the omen's truth to show, 
 
 That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 1 
 
 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, 2 
 
 Or round the green oak wheel their ring." 
 
 Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 
 
 And from the hostel slowly rode. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, 
 And mark'd him pace the village road, 
 
 1 MS. "I would, to prove the omen right, 
 
 That I could meet this Elfin Knight ! " 
 2 MS. " Dance to the wild waves' murmuring."
 
 Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 135 
 
 And listen'd to his horse's tramp, 
 Till, by the lessening sound, 
 
 He judged that of the Pictish camp 
 Lord Marmion sought the round. 
 Wonder it seem'd, 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, stirr'd by idle tale, 
 Ride forth in silence of the night, 
 As hoping half to meet a sprite, 
 
 Array'd 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. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, 
 But, patient, waited till he heard, 
 At distance, prick'd to utmost speed, 
 The foot-tramp of a flying steed, 
 
 Come town-ward rushing on ; 
 First, dead, as if on turf it trode, 
 Then, clattering on the village road, 
 In other pace than forth he yode, 1 
 
 Return'd Lord Marmion. 
 
 1 Yode, used by old poets for went.
 
 136 MARMION. Canto HI. 
 
 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 soil'd 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. 
 Long musing on these wondrous signs, 
 At length to rest the squire reclines, 
 Broken and short ; for still, between, 
 Would dreams of terror intervene : 
 Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark 
 The first notes of the morning lark.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 To James Skene, Esq. 1 
 
 Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 
 AN ancient Minstrel sagely said, 
 " Where is the life which late we led ? " 
 That motley clown in Arden wood, 
 Whom humourous Jacques 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 ; 2 
 And sure, through many a varied scene, 
 Unkindness never came between. 
 Away these winged years have flown, 
 To join the mass of ages gone ; 
 
 1 James Skene, Esq., of Rubislaw, Aberdeenshire, was Cor- 
 net in the Royal Edinburgh Light Horse Volunteers ; and Sir 
 Walter Scott was Quartermaster of the same corps. 
 
 2 MS. " Unsheathed the voluntary brand."
 
 I 3 8 MARMION. 
 
 And though deep mark'd, like all below, 
 With chequer'd shades of joy and woe ; 
 Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, 
 Mark'd cities lost, and empires changed, 
 While here, at home, my narrower ken 
 Somewhat of manners saw, and men ; 
 Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, 
 Fever'd 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, 
 That now, November's dreary gale, 
 Whose voice inspir'd 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 Ettrick Pen, 
 Have donn'd their wintry shrouds again : 
 And mountain dark, and flooded mead, 1 
 Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. 
 Earlier than wont along the sky, 
 Mix'd with the rack, the snow mists fly ; 
 
 1 MS. " And noon-tide mist, and flooded mead."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 139 
 
 The shepherd who, in summer sun, 
 Had something of our envy won, 
 As thou with pencil, I with pen, 
 The features traced f hill and glen ; l 
 He who, outstretch'd the livelong day, 
 At ease among the heath-flowers lay, 
 View'd the light clouds with vacant look, 
 Or slumber'd o'er his tatter'd book, 
 Or idly busied him to guide 
 His angle o'er the lessen'd tide ; 
 At midnight now, the snowy plain 
 Finds sterner labour for the swain. 
 
 When red hath set the beamless sun, 2 
 Through heavy vapours dark 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 ; 
 
 1 Various illustrations of the poetry and novels of Sir 
 Walter Scott, from designs by Mr. Skene, have since been 
 published. 
 
 2 MS. " When red hath set the evening sun, 
 
 And loud winds speak the storm begun."
 
 140 MARMION. 
 
 Till, dark above, and white below, 1 
 
 Decided drives the flaky snow, 
 
 And forth the hardy swain must go. 
 
 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, 2 
 
 Stiffens his locks to icicles ; 
 
 Oft he looks back, while streaming far, 
 
 His cottage window seems a star, 3 
 
 Loses its feeble gleam, and then 
 
 Turns patient to the blast again, 
 
 And, facing to the tempest's sweep, 
 
 Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep. 
 
 If fails his heart, if his limbs fail, 
 
 Benumbing death is in the gale : 
 
 His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 
 
 Close to the hut, no more his own, 
 
 Close to the aid he sought in vain, 
 
 1 MS. " Till thickly drives the flaky snow, 
 And forth the hardy swain must go, 
 While, with dejected look and whine," etc. 
 
 2 MS. " The frozen blast that sweeps the fells." 
 
 8 MS. " His cottage window beams a star, 
 But soon he loses it, and then 
 Turns patient to his task again."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 141 
 
 The morn may find the stiffen'd swain : J 
 The 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, 2 
 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 3 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 ? 
 
 1 MS. " The morn shall find the stiffen'd swain : 
 His widow sees, at morning pale, 
 His children rise, and raise their wail." 
 
 1 cannot help here mentioning, that on the night in which 
 these lines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden 
 fall of snow, beginning after sunset, an unfortunate man per- 
 ished exactly in the manner here described, and his body was 
 next morning found close to his own house. The accident 
 happened within five miles of the farm of Ashestiel. 
 
 Compare the celebrated description of a man perishing in. 
 the snow, in Thomson's Winter. 
 
 2 MS. " Couches upon his frozen breast." 
 8 The Scottish Harvest-home. 
 
 4 MS. " His native wild notes' melody, 
 
 To Marion's blithely blinking eye."
 
 1 42 MARMION. 
 
 Our youthful summer oft we see 1 
 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, 
 Call'd ancient Priam forth to arms. 2 
 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 chasten'd by their grief. 
 And such a lot, my Skene, was thine, 
 When thou of late, wert doom'd to twine, 
 Just when thy bridal hour was by, 
 The cypress with the myrtle tie. 
 Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled, 3 
 And bless'd the union of his child, 
 When love must change its joyous cheer, 
 And wipe affection's filial tear. 
 Nor did the actions next his end, 4 
 Speak more the father than the friend : 
 
 1 MS. " Our youthful summer oft we see 
 
 Dance by on wings of mirth and glee, 
 While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
 To crush the winter of our age." 
 2 MS. " Call'd forth his feeble age to arms." 
 8 MS. " Scarce on thy bride her Sire had smiled." 
 4 MS. " But even the actions next his end, 
 
 Spoke the fond sire and faithful friend."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 143 
 
 Scarce had lamented Forbes 1 paid 
 
 The tribute to his Minstrel's shade ; 
 
 The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
 
 Ere the narrator's heart was cold 
 
 Far may we search before we find 
 
 A heart so manly and so kind ! 
 
 But not around his honour'd urn, 
 
 Shall friends alone and kindred mourn ; 
 
 The thousand eyes his care had dried, 
 
 Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 
 
 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." 
 
 Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 
 
 My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 
 
 For sacred was the pen that wrote, 
 " Thy father's friend forget thou not : " 
 
 And grateful title may I plead, 2 
 
 For many a kindly word and deed, 
 
 1 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 of Seattle, whom he befriended 
 and patronised hi life, as well as celebrated after his decease, 
 was not long published before the benevolent and affectionate 
 biographer was called to follow the subject of his narrative. 
 This melancholy event very shortly succeeded the marriage of 
 the friend, to whom this introduction is addressed, with one 
 of Sir William's daughters. 
 
 2 M8. "And nearer title may I plead."
 
 144 MARMION. 
 
 To bring my tribute to his grave : 
 Tis little but 'tis all I have. 
 
 To thee, perchance, this rambling strain 
 Eecalls our summer walks again ; 
 When, doing nought, and, to speak true, 
 Not anxious to find aught to do, 
 The wild unbounded hills we ranged, 
 While oft our talk its topic changed, 
 And, desultory as our way, 
 Eanged unconfined from grave to gay. 
 Even when it flagg'd as oft will chance, 
 No effort made to break its trance, 
 We could right pleasantly pursue 
 Our sports in social silence, too ; 1 
 Thou gravely labouring to portray 
 The blighted oak's fantastic spray ; 
 I spelling o'er with much delight, 
 The legend of that antique knight, 
 Tirante by name, yclep'd the White. 
 At cither's feet a trusty squire, 
 Pandour and Camp, 2 with eyes of fire, 
 Jealous, each other's motions view'd, 
 
 
 
 And scarce suppress'd their ancient feud. 
 The laverock whistled from the cloud ; 
 The stream was lively, but not loud ; 
 
 1 MS. " Our thoughts in social silence too." 
 
 2 Camp was a favourite dog of the Poet's, a bull-terrier of 
 extraordinary sagacity . He is introduced in Eaeburn's portrait 
 of Sir Walter Scott, now at Dalkeith Palace. 
 
 8 MS. "Till oft our voice suppress'd the feud."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 145 
 
 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 blithesome nights, too, have been ours, 
 When Winter stript the summer's bowers. 
 Careless we heard, what now I hear, 1 
 The wild blast sighing deep and drear, 
 When fires were bright, and lamps beam'd gay, 
 And ladies tuned the lovely lay ; 
 And he was held a laggard soul, 
 Who shunn'd to quaff the sparkling bowL 
 Then he, whose absence we deplore, 2 
 Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore, 
 The longer miss'd, bewail the more ; 
 
 And thou, and I, and dear-loved R , 3 
 
 And one whose name I may not say, 4 
 
 1 MS. " When light we heard what now I hear." 
 
 2 Colin Mackenzie, Esq., of Portmore. See Border Min- 
 strelsy, vol. iv. 
 
 8 Sir William Rae of St. Catharine's, Bart., subsequently 
 Lord Advocate of Scotland, was a distinguished member of the 
 volunteer corps to which Sir Walter Scott belonged ; and he, 
 the Poet, Mr. Skene, Mr. Mackenzie, and a few other friends, 
 had formed themselves into a little semi-military club, the 
 meetings of which were held at their family supper-tables in 
 rotation. 
 
 4 The gentleman whose name the Poet "might not say" 
 will now, it is presumed, pardon its introduction. The late 
 Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo, Bart., son of the author of the 
 Life of Beattie, was another member of this volunteer corps 
 and club. 
 
 10
 
 146 MARMION. 
 
 For not Mimosa's tender tree 
 
 Shrinks sooner from the touch than he, 
 
 In merry chorus well combined, 
 
 With laughter drown'd 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 : 
 
 For, like mad Tom's, 1 our chiefest care, 
 
 Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. 
 
 Such nights we've had ; and, though the game 2 
 
 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. 
 
 1 See King Lear. 
 
 Z MS. " Such nights we've had ; and though our game 
 Advance of years may something tame."
 
 MAKMION. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 THE CAMP. 
 
 EUSTACE, I said, did blithely mark 
 The first notes of the merry lark. 
 The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew, 
 And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, 
 And with their light and lively call, 
 Brought groom and yoeman 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. 
 Some clamour'd loud for armour lost ; 
 Some brawl'd and wrangled with the host ; 
 By Becket's bones," cried one, " I fear, 1 
 That some false Scot has stolen my spear ! " 
 Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire, 
 Found his steed wet with sweat and mire ; 
 
 i MS. " ' By Becket's bones,' cried one, ' I swear. ' "
 
 148 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 Although the rated horse-boy sware, 
 Last night he dress'd 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 ; l 
 Till one, who would seem wisest, cried, 
 
 " What else but evil could betide, 
 With that cursed Palmer for our guide ? 
 Better we had through mire and bush 
 Been lantern-led by Friar Bush." 2 
 
 II. 
 
 Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess'd, 
 Nor wholly understood, 
 
 1 MS. " The good horse panting on the straw." 
 
 2 Alias, " Will o' the Wisp." 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' 
 Lanthern. It is in allusion to this mischievous demon that 
 Milton's clown speaks : 
 
 " She was pinched, and pulled, she said, 
 And he by Friar's lanthern led." 
 
 The History of Friar Rush is of extreme rarity, and, for some 
 time, even the existence of such a book was doubted, although 
 it is expressly alluded to by Reginald Scot, in his Discovery of 
 Witchcraft. I have perused a copy in the valuable library of
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 149 
 
 His comrades' clamorous plaints suppress'd ; 
 
 He knew Lord Marmion's mood. 
 Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, 
 And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, 
 
 And did his tale display 
 Simply, as if he knew of nought 
 
 To cause such disarray. 
 Lord Marmion gave attention cold, 
 Nor marvell'd at the wonders told, 
 Pass'd them as accidents of course, 
 And bade his clarions sound to horsa 
 
 III. 
 
 Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost 
 Had reckon'd with their Scottish host ; 
 And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
 
 " 111 thou deservest 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, 1 
 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." 
 
 my friend, Mr. Heber ; and I observe, from Mr. Beloe's Anec- 
 dotes of Literature, that there is one in the excellent collection 
 of the Marquis of Stafford. 
 
 1 MS. " With bloody cross and fiery brand."
 
 ISO MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 The laughing host look'd on the hire, 
 "Gramercy, gentle southern squire, 
 And if thou comest among the rest, 
 With Scottish broadsword to be blest, 
 Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, 
 And short the pang to undergo." 
 Here stay'd their talk, for Marmion 
 Gave now the signal to set on. 
 The Palmer showing forth the way, 
 They journey'd all the morning day. 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 The greensward 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 overhead 
 
 A vaulted screen the branches made. 
 " A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said ; 
 " Such as where errant-knights might see 
 
 Adventures of high chivalry ; 
 
 Might meet some damsel flying fast, 
 
 With hair unbound, and looks aghast ; 
 
 And smooth and level course were here, 
 
 In her defence to break a spear. 
 
 Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells ; 
 
 And oft, in such, the story tells, 
 
 The damsel kind, from danger freed, 
 
 Did grateful pay her champion's meed." 
 
 1 MS. "They journeyed till the middle day.'*
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 151 
 
 He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind ; 
 Perchance to show his lore design'd ; 
 
 For Eustace much had pored 
 Upon a huge romantic tome, 1 
 In the hall-window of his home, 
 Imprinted at the antique dome 
 
 Of Caxton, or de Worde. 2 
 Therefore he spoke, but spoke in vain, 
 For Marmion answer'd nought again. 
 
 V. 
 
 Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, 
 In notes prolong'd by wood and hill, 
 
 Were heard to echo far ; 
 Each ready archer grasp'd his bow, 
 But by the flourish soon they know, 
 
 They breathed no point of war. 
 Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, 
 Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, 
 
 Some opener ground to gain ; 
 And scarce a furlong had they rode, 
 When thinner trees, receding, shoVd 
 
 A little woodland plain. 
 Just in that advantageous glade, 
 The halting troop a line had made, 
 
 1 MS. " Upon a black and ponderous tome." 
 
 2 William Caxton, the earliest English printer, was born ia 
 Kent, A. D. 1412, and died 1491. Wynken de Worde was his 
 next successor in the production of those 
 
 "Bare volumes, dark with tarnish'd gold," 
 which are now the delight of bibliomaniacs.
 
 i S 2 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 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 press'd, 
 With scarlet mantle, azure vest ; 
 Each at his tramp a banner wore, 
 Which Scotland's royal scutcheon 1 bore : 
 Heralds and pursuivants, by name 
 Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Eothsay, came, 
 In painted tabards, proudly showing 
 Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, 
 
 Attendant on a King-at-arms, 
 Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, 
 That feudal strife had often quell'd, 
 
 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, 
 
 lr The MS. has " Scotland's royal Lion " here ; in line 9th, 
 " scarlet tabards ; " and in line 12th, " blazoned truncheon."
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 153 
 
 And broke the keys of Borne. 1 
 On milk-white palfrey forth he paced ; 
 His cap of maintenance was graced 
 
 With the proud heron-plume. 
 From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, 
 
 Silk housings swept the ground, 
 With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, 
 
 Embroider'd round and round. 
 The double tressure might you see, 
 
 First by Achaius borne, 
 The thistle and the fleur-de-lis, 
 
 And gallant unicorn. 2 
 So bright the King's armorial coat, 
 That scarce the dazzled eye could note, 
 In living colours, blazon'd brave, 
 The Lion, which his title gave, 
 A train, which well beseem'd his state, 
 But all unarm'd, 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 ! 3 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Down from his horse did Marmion spring, 
 Soon as he saw the Lion-King ; 
 
 1 MS. " The flash of that satiric rage, 
 
 Which, bursting from the early stage, 
 Lash'd the coarse vices of the age," etc. 
 
 2 3fS. "Silver unicorn." This, and the seven preceding 
 lines, are interpolated in the blank page of the MS. 
 
 8 See Appendix, Note I.
 
 154 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 For well the stately Baron knew 
 To him such courtesy was due, 
 Whom royal James himself had crown'd, 
 And on his temples placed the round 
 
 Of Scotland's ancient diadem : 
 And wet his brow with hallow'd wine, 
 And on his finger given to shine 
 
 The emblematic gem. 
 Their mutual greetings duly made, 
 The Lion thus his message said : 
 " Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore l 
 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 deem'd it shame, and lack 
 Of courtesy, to turn him back ; 
 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 : 
 
 1 MS. " The Lion-King his message said : 
 
 ' My Liege hath deep and deadly swore,' " etc.
 
 Crichtoim Castle. 
 
 Photogravure from Drawing by J M. W. Turner, R. A.
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 155 
 
 Strict was the Lion-King's command, 
 That none, who rode in Marmion's band, 
 
 Should sever from the train : 
 " England has here enow of spies 
 In Lady Heron's witching eyes : " 
 To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, 
 But fair pretext to Marmion made. 
 The right hand path they now decline, 
 And trace against the stream the Tyne. 
 
 X. 
 
 At length up that wild dale they wind, 
 
 Where Crichtoun Castle 1 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. 2 
 The towers in different ages rose ; 
 Their various architecture shows 
 
 The builders' various hands ; 
 A mighty mass, that could oppose, 3 
 When deadliest hatred fired its foes, 
 
 The vengeful Douglas bands. 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note K. For a fuller description of Crich- 
 ton Castle, see Scott's Provincial Antiquities of Scotland, vol. i. 
 
 2 MS. " Her lazy streams repine." 
 
 8 MS. " But the huge mass could well oppose."
 
 156 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 XL 
 
 Crichtoun ! though now thy miry court 
 
 But pens the lazy steer and sheep, 
 
 Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Keep, 
 Have been the minstrel's loved resort. 
 Oft have I traced, within thy fort, 
 
 Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, 1 
 
 Scutcheons of honour, or pretence 
 Quarter'd in old armorial sort, 
 
 Remains of rude magnificence. 
 Nor wholly yet had time defaced 
 
 Thy lordly gallery fair ; 
 Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 
 Whose twisted notes, with roses laced, 
 
 Adorn thy ruin'd stair. 
 Still rises unimpair'd below, 
 The courtyard'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 whilom were captives pent, 
 
 The darkness of thy Massy More ; 2 
 
 Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, 
 May trace, in undulating line, 
 The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 
 
 1 MS. "Of many a mouldering shield the sense." 
 a The pit, or prison vault. See Appendix, Note K.
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 157 
 
 XII. 
 
 Another aspect Crichtoun show'd, 
 As through its portal Marmion rode ; 
 But yet 'twas melancholy state 
 Keceived 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, 
 Proffer'd the Baron's rein to hold ; 
 For each man that could draw a sword 
 Had march'd that morning with their lord, 
 Earl Adam Hepburn, he who died 
 On Flodden, by his sovereign's side, 1 
 Long may his Lady look in vain ! 
 She ne'er shall see his gallant train, 2 
 
 1 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 wellcoine cold, 
 
 The Englishmen straight down him threw. 
 Thus Haburn through his hardy heart 
 
 His fatal fine in conflict found," etc. 
 Flodden Field, a Poem ; edited by H. Weber, Edin., 1808. 
 
 2 MS. " Well might his gentle Lady mourn, 
 
 Doom'd ne'er to see her Lord's return."
 
 I $8 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 
 'Twas a brave race, before the name 
 Of hated Both well stain'd their .fame. 1 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And here two days did Marmion rest, 
 With every rite that honour claims, 
 
 Attended as the King's own guest ; 
 Such the command of Eoyal James, 
 
 Who marshall'd 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 ; 
 
 And, in his turn, he knew to prize 
 
 Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise, 
 
 Train'd in the lore of Rome and Greece, 
 
 And policies of war and peace. 2 
 
 XIV. 
 
 It chanced, as fell the second night, 
 That on the battlements they walk'd, 
 
 1 Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothwell, too 
 well known in the history of Queen Mary. 
 
 2 .MS. " Nor less the Herald Monarch knew 
 The Baron's powers to value true 
 Hence confidence between them grew."
 
 Canto I V. THE CAMP. 159 
 
 And, by the slowly fading light, 
 
 Of varying topics talk'd ; 
 And, unaware, the Herald-bard l 
 Said, Marmion might his toil have spared, 
 
 In travelling so far ; 
 For that a messenger from heaven 
 In vain to James had counsel given 
 
 Against the English war : 2 
 And, closer question'd, thus he told 
 A tale, which chronicles of old 
 In Scottish story have enroll'd : 
 
 XV. 
 
 SIR DAVID LINDESAY'S TALE. 
 * Of all the palaces so fair, 8 
 
 Built for the royal dwelling, 
 In Scotland, far beyond compare 
 Linlithgow is excelling ; 4 
 
 1 MS. "Then fell from Lindesay, unaware, 
 
 That Marmion might ) , . 
 
 ,. . . , . . > his labour spare." 
 
 Marmion might well ) 
 
 2 See Appendix, Note L. 
 
 8 In some places Mr. Scott's love of variety has betrayed 
 him into strange imitations. This is evidently formed on the 
 school of Sternhold and Hopkins, 
 
 " Of all the palaces so fair," etc. 
 
 Jeffrey. 
 
 4 In Scotland there are about twenty palaces, castles, and 
 remains, or sites of such, 
 
 " Where Scotia' s kings of other years " 
 had their royal home. 
 
 Linlithgow, distinguished by the combined strength and
 
 160 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 And in its park, in jovial June, 
 How sweet the merry linnet's tune, 
 
 How blithe the blackbird's lay ! 
 The wild-buck bells l from ferny brake, 
 The coot dives merry on the lake, 
 The saddest heart might pleasure take 
 
 To see all nature gay. 
 
 beauty of its situation, must have been early selected as a royal 
 residence. David, who bought the title of saint by his liberality 
 to the Church, refers several of his charters to his town of 
 Linlithgow ; and in that of Holyrood expressly bestows on the 
 new monastery all the skins of the rams, ewes, and lambs 
 belonging to his castle of Linlitcu which shall die during the 
 year. . . . The convenience afforded for the sport of falconry, 
 which was so great a favourite during the feudal ages, was 
 probably one cause of the attachment of the ancient Scottish 
 monarchs to Linlithgow and its fine lake. The sport of hunt- 
 ing was also followed with success in the neighbourhood, from 
 which circumstance it probably arises that the ancient arms of 
 the city represent a black greyhound bitch tied to a tree. . . . 
 The situation of Linlithgow Palace is eminently beautiful. It 
 stands on a promontory of some elevation, which advances 
 almost into the midst of the lake. The form is that of a square 
 court, composed of buildings of four stories high, with towers 
 at the angles. The fronts within the square and the windows 
 are highly ornamented, and the size of the rooms, as well as 
 the width and character of the staircases, are upon a magnifi- 
 cent scale. One banquet-room is ninety-four feet long, thirty 
 feet wide, and thirty-three feet high, with a gallery for music. 
 The king's wardrobe, or dressing-room, looking to the west, 
 projects over the walls, so as to have a delicious prospect on 
 three sides, and is one of the most enviable boudoirs we have 
 ever seen. Sir Walter ScotVs Provincial Antiquities. 
 
 1 1 am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer 
 by another word than braying, although the latter has been 
 sanctified by the use of the Scottish metrical translation of the 
 Psalms. Bell seems to be an abbreviation of bellow. This
 
 Linlithgow. 
 
 Photogravure from Drawing by A. W. Callcott. R. A.
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 161 
 
 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. 1 
 Woe to the traitors, who could bring 
 The princely boy against his King ! 
 Still in his conscience burns the sting. 
 In offices as strict as Lent, 
 King James's June is ever spent. 2 
 
 XVL 
 
 " When last this ruthful month was come, 
 And in Linlithgow's holy dome 
 The King, as wont, was praying; 
 
 silvan sound conveyed great delight to our ancestors, chiefly, 
 I suppose, from association. A gentle knight in the reign of 
 Henry VIII., Sir Thomas Wortley, built Wantley Lodge, in 
 Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure (as an ancient inscription 
 testifies) of " listening to the hart's bell." 
 
 1 The rebellion against James III. was signalised 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 had ever possessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse 
 as it started at a woman and water-pitcher, and was slain, it 
 is not well understood by whom. James IV., after the battle, 
 passed to Stirling, and hearing the monks of the chapel-royal 
 deploring the death of his father, their founder, he was seized 
 with deep remorse, which manifested itself in severe penances. 
 See a following note on stanza ix. of canto v. The battle of 
 Sauchie-burn, in which James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 
 1488. 
 
 a MS. "In offices as strict as Lent, 
 
 And penances his Junes are spent." 
 11
 
 162 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 While, for his royal father's soul, 
 The chanters sung, the bells did toll, 
 
 The Bishop mass was saying 
 For now the year brought round again 1 
 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. 
 I too was there, and, sooth to tell, 
 Bedeafen'd with the jangling knell, 
 Was watching where the sunbeams fell, 
 
 Through the stain'd casement gleaming ; 
 But, while I mark'd what next befell, 
 It seem'd as I were dreaming. 
 
 Stepp'd 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 
 
 1 MS. " For now the year brought round again 
 
 The very day that he } wasslain _ 
 
 The day that the third James > 
 
 In Katharine's aisle the Monarch kneels, 
 
 And folded hands ) ghowg whafc he f eelg 
 
 And hands sore clasped >
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 163 
 
 So stately gliding on, 
 Seem'd to me ne'er did limner paint 
 So just an image of the Saint, 
 Who propp'd the Virgin in her faint, 
 
 The loved Apostle John ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " He stepp'd before the Monarch's chair, 
 And stood with rustic plainness there, 
 
 And little reverence made ; 
 Nor head, nor body, bow*d nor bent, 
 But on the desk his arm he leant, 
 
 And words like these he said, 
 In a low voice, but never tone 1 
 So thrill'd 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, 2 
 Her witching wiles and wanton snare, 
 James Stuart, doubly warn'd, beware : 
 
 God keep thee as he may ! ' 
 
 The wondering Monarch seem'd to seek 
 For answer, and found none ; 
 
 And when he raised his head to speak, 
 The monitor was gone. 
 
 1 MS. " In a low voice but every tone 
 
 Thrill'd through the listener' 1 s vein and bone." 
 
 8 MS. " And if to war thou needs wilt fare 
 
 Of wanton wiles and woman's ) 
 
 > snare. 
 Of woman's wiles and wanton )
 
 164 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 The Marshal and myself had cast 
 To stop him as he outward pass'd ; 
 But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, 
 
 He vanish'd from our eyes, 
 Like sunbeam on the billow cast, 
 
 That glances but, and dies." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 While Lindesay told his marvel strange, 
 
 The twilight was so pale, 
 He mark'd 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 superhuman cause 
 
 Could e'er control 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, 1 
 What much has changed my sceptic creed, 
 And made me credit aught." He staid, 
 And seem'd to wish his words unsaid : 
 But, by that strong emotion press'd, 
 Which prompts us to unload our breast, 
 
 Even when discovery's pain, 
 To Lindesay did at length unfold 
 
 1 MS. " But events, since I cross'd the Tweed, 
 Have undermined my sceptic creed."
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 165 
 
 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 couch'd my head : 
 Fantastic thoughts return'd ; 
 
 And, by their wild dominion led, 
 
 My heart within me burn'd. 1 
 
 So sore was the delirious goad, 
 
 I took my steed, and forth I rode, 
 
 And, as the moon shone bright and cold, 
 
 Soon reach'd the camp upon the wold. 
 
 The southern entrance I pass'd through, 
 
 And halted, and my bugle blew. 
 
 Methought an answer met my ear, 
 
 Yet was the blast so low and drear, 2 
 
 So hollow, and so faintly blown, 
 
 It might be echo of my own. 
 
 1 MS. " In vain," said he, " to rest I laid 
 
 My burning limbs, and throbbing head 
 Fantastic thoughts return'd ; 
 
 )led, 
 And, by their wild dominion > sway'd, 
 
 ) sped, 
 
 My heart within me burn'd." 
 
 2 MS. " And yet it was so low and drear."
 
 1 66 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Thus judging, for a little space 
 I listen'd, 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 cnampion rise. 
 I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day, 1 
 In single fight, and mix'd affray, 
 And ever, I myself may say, 
 
 Have borne me as a knight ; 
 But when this unexpected foe 
 Seem'd starting from the gulf below, 
 I care not though the truth I show, 
 
 I trembled with affright ; 
 And as I placed in rest my spear, 
 My hand so shook for very fear, 
 
 I scarce could couch it right. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Why need my tongue the issue tell ? 
 We ran our course, my charger fell ; 
 What could he 'gainst the shock of hell ? 
 
 I roll'd upon the plain. 
 High o'er my head, with threatening hand, 
 The spectre shook his naked brand, 2 
 
 1 MS. " I've been, Lord-Lion, many a day, 
 
 In combat single, or me'le'e." 
 8 MS. " The spectre shook his naked brand, 
 Tet doth the worst remain :
 
 The Lady Clare. 
 
 Photogravure from Drawing by T. Phillips, R. A.

 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 167 
 
 Yet did the worst remain : 
 My dazzled eyes I upward cast, 
 Not opening hell itself could blast 
 
 Their sight, like what I saw ! 
 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 l 
 To foreign climes, has long been dead, 
 
 I well believe the last ; 
 For ne'er, from vizor 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 pray'd, 
 (The first time e'er I ask'd his aid,) 
 
 He plunged it in the sheath ; 
 And, on his courser mounting light, 
 He seem'd to vanish from my sight : 
 The moonbeam droop'd, and deepest night 
 
 Sunk down upon the heath. 
 
 My reeling eyes I upward cast, 
 
 But opening hell could never blast 
 
 Their sight like what I saw." 
 
 1 MS, "I knew the face of one long dead, 
 
 Or who to foreign climes hath fled . . . 
 
 I knew the face of one who fled 
 To foreign climes, or long since dead 
 I well mav judge the last."
 
 1 68 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 'Twere long to tell what cause I have 
 
 To know his face, that met me there, 
 Call'd by his hatred from the grave, 
 
 To cumber upper air : 
 Dead, or alive, good cause had he 
 To be my mortal enemy." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 MarvelTd Sir David of the Mount ; 
 Then, learn'd in story, 'gan recount 
 
 Such chance had happ'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 train'd him nigh to disallow 
 The aid of his baptismal vow. 
 " And such a phantom, too, 'tis said, 
 With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid, 
 
 And fingers red with gore, 
 Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade, 
 Or where the sable pine-trees shade 
 Dark Tomantoul, and Auchnaslaid, 
 
 Dromouchty, or Glenmore. 1 
 And yet, whate'er such legends say, 
 Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay, 
 
 On mountain, moor, or plain, 
 
 1 See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spectre called 
 Lhamdearg, or Bloody-hand, in a note on canto iii. [Appen- 
 dix, Note H.]
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 169 
 
 Spotless in faith, in bosom bold, 1 
 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, 2 
 Or harbour unrepented sin." 
 Lord Marmion turn'd him half aside, 
 And twice to clear his voice he tried, 
 
 Then press'd Sir David's hand, 
 But nought, at length, in answer said; 
 And here their farther converse staid, 
 
 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. 
 Early they took Dun-Edin's road, 
 And I could trace each step they trode : 
 Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone, 
 Lies on the path to me unknown. 
 Much might it boast of storied lore ; 
 But, passing such digression o'er, 
 Suffice it that their route was laid 
 Across the furzy hills of Braid. 
 They pass'd the glen and scanty rill, 
 And climb'd the opposing bank, until 
 They gain'd the top of Blackford HilL 
 
 1 MS. " Of spotless faith, and bosom bold." 
 8 MS. " When mortals meditate within 
 Fresh guilt, or unrepented sin."
 
 1 70 MAKMION. Canto IV. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Blackford ! on whose uncultured breast, 
 
 Among the broom, and thorn, and whin, 
 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, 1 
 
 Since Marmion, from the crown 
 Of Blackford, saw that martial scene 
 
 Upon the bent so brown : 
 Thousand pavilions, white as snow, 
 Spread all the Borough-moor below, 2 
 
 Upland, and dale, and down : 
 
 1 MS. " But, oh ! far different change has been, 
 Since Marmion, from the crown 
 Of Blackf ord-hill, upon the scene 
 Of Scotland's war look'd down." 
 
 3 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 ;
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 171 
 
 A thousand did I say ? I ween, 1 
 Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
 That chequer'd all the heath between 
 
 The streamlet and the town ; 
 In crossing ranks extending far, 
 Forming a camp irregular ; 2 
 Oft giving way, where still there stood 
 Some relics of the old oak wood, 
 That darkly huge did intervene, 
 And tamed the glaring white with green : 
 In these extended lines there lay 
 A martial kingdom's vast array. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 For from Hebudes, dark with rain, 
 To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, 
 
 and, 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 effectually. When James IV. mustered the 
 array of the kingdom there, in 1613, the Borough-moor was, 
 according to Hawthornden, " a field spacious, and delight- 
 ful by the shade of many stately and aged oaks." Upon that 
 and similar occasions, the royal standard is traditionally said 
 to have been displayed from the Hare Stane, a high stone, now 
 built into the wall, on the left hand of the highway leading 
 toward Braid, not far from the head of Burntsfield Links. 
 The Hare Stane probably derives its name from the British 
 words Har, signifying an army. 
 
 1 MS. "A thousand said the verse ? I ween, 
 
 Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
 That whitened all the heath between." 
 
 2 Here ends the stanza in the MS.
 
 172 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 And from the southern Eedswire edge, 
 To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge ; 
 From west to east, from south to north, 
 Scotland sent all her warriors forth. 
 Marmion might hear the mingled hum 
 Of myriads up the mountain come ; 
 The horses' tramp, and tingling clank, 
 Where chiefs review'd their vassal rank, 
 
 And charger's shrilling neigh ; 
 And see the shifting lines advance, 
 While frequent flash'd, 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 decay'd, 
 
 Where the night-watch their fires had made. 
 
 They saw, slow rolling on the plain, 
 
 Full many a baggage-cart and wain, 
 
 And dire artillery's clumsy car, 
 
 By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war ; 
 
 And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven, 1 
 
 And culverins which France had given. 
 
 Ill-omen'd gift ! the guns remain 
 
 The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Nor mark'd they less, where in the air 
 A thousand streamers flaunted fair ; 
 
 1 Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick.
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 173 
 
 Various in shape, device, and hue, 
 Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, 
 Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square, 
 Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, 1 there 
 O'er the pavilions flew. 2 
 
 1 Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank 
 of those entitled to display them. 
 
 2 1 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 
 somewhat of the manner of their camp : As they had no pavil- 
 ions, or round houses, of any commendable compass, so wear 
 there few other tentes with posts, as the used manner 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 linen drapery, of the coarser cambryk in dede, 
 for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles, or 
 rather cabyns and couches of their soldiers ; the which (much 
 after the common building of their country beside) had they 
 framed of four sticks, about an ell long a piece, whearof two 
 fastened together at one end aloft, and the two endes beneath 
 stuck in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like 
 the bowes of a sowes yoke ; over two such bowes (one, as it 
 were, at their head, the other at their feet), they stretched a 
 sheet down on both sides, whereby their cabin became roofed 
 like a ridge, but skant shut at both ends, and not very close 
 beneath on the sides, unless their sticks were the shorter, or 
 their wives the more liberal to lend them larger napery ; how- 
 beit, when they had lined them, and stuff' d them so thick with 
 straw, with the weather as it was not very cold, when they 
 wear ones couched, they were as warm as they had been wrapt 
 in horses' dung." Patten's Account of Somerset's Expedition.
 
 174 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 Highest, and midmost, was descried 
 The royal banner floating wide ; 
 
 The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 1 
 Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone, 
 Which still in memory is shown, 
 
 Yet bent beneath the standard's weight 
 Whene'er the western wind unroll'd, 
 
 With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, 
 And gave to view the dazzling field, 
 Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, 
 
 The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold. 2 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright, 3 
 He view'd it with a chiefs delight, 
 
 1 MS. " The standard staff, a mountain pine, 
 
 Pitch'd in a huge memorial stone, 
 That still in monument is shown." 
 
 2 The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe 
 Boethius and Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, 
 mentioned, p. 199, counter fleur-de-lysed, or lingued and armed 
 azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King of Scotland, con- 
 temporary 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 Gregorius Magnus) asso- 
 ciated with himself in the important duty of governing some 
 part of the northeastern coast of Scotland. 
 
 8 MS. "Lord Marmion's large dark eye flash'd light, 
 It kindled with a chief's delight, 
 For glow'd with martial joy his heart, 
 As upon battle-day."
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 175 
 
 Until within him burn'd 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 St. George, were that host mine, 
 Not power infernal, nor divine, 
 Should once to peace my soul incline, 
 Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine 
 
 In glorious battle-fray ! " 
 Answer'd 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 bless'd, 
 'Tis better to sit still at rest, 1 
 Than rise, perchance to fall" 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd, 
 For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd. 
 
 1 MS. " 'Tis better sitting still at rest, 
 Than rising but to fall ; 
 And while these words they did exchange, 
 They reached the camp's extremest range. " 
 
 The Poet appears to have struck his pen through the two 
 lines in italics, on conceiving the magnificent picture which 
 replaces them in the text, and in which there is so little of 
 erasure, as will be seen in the fac-simile which faces this page.
 
 176 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 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. 
 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 ! l 
 But northward far, with purer blaze, 
 On Ochil mountains fell the rays, 
 And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 
 It gleam'd a purple amethyst. 
 Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ; 
 Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law ; 
 And, broad between them roll'd, 
 The gallant Frith 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, 
 
 1 MS. " Dun-Edin's towers and town."
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 177 
 
 And raised his bridle hand, 
 And, making demi-volte in air, 
 Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare 
 
 To fight for such a land ! " 
 The Lindesay smiled his joy to see ; J 
 Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Thus while they lootd, 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 toll'd the hour of prime, 
 
 And thus the Lindesay spoke : 2 
 " Thus clamour still the war-notes when 
 The King to mass his way has ta'en, 
 Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne, 3 
 
 Or Chapel of Saint Rocque. 
 To you they speak of martial fame ; * 
 But me remind of peaceful game, 
 
 1 MS. " The Lion smiled his joy to see." 
 
 2 MS. "And thus the Lion spoke." 
 
 8 MS. " Or to our Lady's of Sienne." 
 
 * MS. "To you they speak of martial fame, 
 
 To me of mood more mild and tame 
 
 Blither would be their cheer." 
 
 12
 
 1 78 MARMION. Canto IV. 
 
 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 l 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Or with the larum call 
 The burghers forth to watch and ward, 
 'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard 
 
 Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall. 
 But not for my presaging thought, 
 Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought ! 2 
 
 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 stowre, 
 
 1 MS. " Her stately fanes and holy towers." 
 
 2 MS. " Dream of a conquest cheaply bought."
 
 Canto IV. THE CAMP. 179 
 
 That England's dames must weep in bower, 
 
 Her monks the death-mass sing ; J 
 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, 
 And fit his harp the pomp to sing, 
 Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 
 
 In the succeeding lay. 
 
 1 M8. " Their monks dead masses sing."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 1 
 
 To George Ellis, Esq? 
 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 WHEN dark December glooms the day, 
 And takes our autumn joys away 
 When short and scant the sunbeam throws, 
 Upon the weary waste of snows, 
 A cold and profitless regard, 
 like patron on a needy bard ; 
 When silvan occupation's done, 
 And o'er the chimney rests the gun, 
 
 1 These Introductory Epistles, though excellent in them- 
 selves, are in fact only interruptions to the fable, and, accord- 
 ingly, nine readers out of ten have perused them separately, 
 either before or after the poem. In short, the personal appear- 
 ance of the Minstrel, who, though the Last, is the most charming 
 of all minstrels, is by no means compensated by the idea of an 
 author shorn of his picturesque beard, and writing letters to his 
 intimate friends. George Ellis. 
 
 2 This accomplished gentleman, the well-known coadjutor 
 of Mr. Canning and Mr. Frere in the Antijacobin, and editor 
 of Specimens of Ancient English Romances, etc., died 10th 
 April, 1815, aged 76 years ; being succeeded in his estates by 
 his brother, Charles Ellis, Esq., created, in 1827, Lord Seaford. 
 ED. 
 
 181
 
 1 82 MARMION. 
 
 And hang, in idle trophy, near, 
 
 The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; 
 
 When wiry terrier, rough and grim, 
 
 And greyhound, with his length of limb, 
 
 And pointer, now employ'd no more, 
 
 Cumber our parlour's narrow floor ; 
 
 When in his stall the impatient steed 
 
 Is long condemn'd to rest and feed ; 
 
 When from our snow-encircled home, 
 
 Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, 
 
 Since path is none, save that to bring 
 
 The needful water from the spring ; 
 
 When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, 
 
 Beguiles the dreary hour no more, 
 
 And darkling politician, cross'd, 
 
 Inveighs against the lingering post, 
 
 And answering housewife sore complains 
 
 Of carriers' snow-impeded wains ; 
 
 When such the country cheer, I come, 
 
 Well pleased, to seek our city home ; 
 
 For converse, and for books, to change 
 
 The Forest's melancholy range, 
 
 And welcome, with renew'd 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 Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers. 1 
 
 1 See Introduction to canto ii.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 183 
 
 True, Caledonia's Queen is changed, 1 
 Since on her dusky summit ranged, 
 Within its steepy limits pent, 
 By bulwark, line, and battlement, 
 And flanking towers, and laky flood, 
 Guarded and garrison'd 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, 
 Since, early closed, and opening late, 
 Jealous revolved the studded gate, 
 "Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 
 A wicket churlishly supplied. 
 Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, 
 Dun-Edin ! O, how altered now, 
 When safe amid thy mountain court 
 Thou sit'st, like Empress at her sport, 
 And liberal, unconfined, and free, 
 Flinging thy white arms to the sea, 2 
 
 1 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. My ingenious and valued friend, Mr. 
 Thomas Campbell, proposed to celebrate Edinburgh under the- 
 epithet here borrowed. But the Queen of the North has not 
 been so fortunate as to receive from so eminent a pen the 
 proposed distinction. 
 
 2 Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently bor-
 
 1 84 MARMION. 
 
 For thy dark cloud, with umber'd 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 enroll'd, 
 She for the charmed spear renown'd, 
 Which forced each knight to kiss the ground, 
 Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 
 What time she was Malbecco's guest, 1 
 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 roll'd 
 Her locks profuse, of paly gold. 
 They who whilom, in midnight fight, 
 Had marvell'd at her matchless might, 
 No less her maiden charms approved, 
 But looking liked, and liking loved. 2 
 The sight could jealous pangs beguile, 
 
 rowed it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different 
 meaning, from a chorus in Caractaeus : 
 
 "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." 
 
 1 See The Faerie Queene, book iii. canto ix. 
 
 3 "For every one her liked, and every one her loved." 
 
 Spenser, as above.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 185 
 
 And charm Malbecco's cares a while ; 
 
 And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, 
 
 Forgot his Columbella's claims, 
 
 And passion, erst unknown, could gain 
 
 The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane ; 
 
 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 ! disarray'd 
 Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 
 As stately seem'st, but lovelier far 
 Than in that panoply of war. 
 Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne 
 Strength and security are flown ; 
 Still, as of yore, Queen of the North ! 
 Still canst thou send thy children forth. 
 Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call 
 Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, 
 Than now, in danger, shall be thine, 
 Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 
 For fosse and turret proud to stand, 
 Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. 
 Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, 
 Full red would stain their native soil, 
 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, 
 Kenown'd for hospitable deed,
 
 1 86 MARMION. 
 
 That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 
 In patriarchal times whose care 
 Descending angels deign'd to share ; 
 That claim may wrestle blessings down 
 On those who fight for The Good Town, 
 Destined in every age to be 
 Eefuge of injured royalty ; 
 Since first, when conquering York arose, 
 To Henry meek she gave repose, 1 
 
 1 Henry VI., with his queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his 
 family, fled to Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. In 
 this note a doubt was formerly expressed, whether Henry VI. 
 came to Edinburgh, though his queen certainly did; Mr. 
 Pinkerton inclining to believe that he remained at Kirkcud- 
 bright. But my noble friend, Lord Napier, has pointed out 
 to me a grant by Henry, of an annuity of forty marks to his 
 Lordship's ancestor, John Napier, subscribed by the king 
 himself, at Edinburgh, the 28th day of August, in the thirty- 
 ninth year of his reign, which corresponds to the year of God, 
 1461. This grant, Douglas, with his usual neglect of accuracy, 
 dates in 1368. But this error being corrected from the copy 
 in Macfarlane's MSS., p. 119-20, removes all scepticism on 
 the subject of Henry VI. being really at Edinburgh. John 
 Napier was son and heir of Sir Alexander Napier, and about 
 this tune was Provost of Edinburgh. The hospitable reception 
 of the distressed monarch and his family called forth on Scot- 
 land the encomium of Molinet, a contemporary poet. The 
 English people, he says, 
 
 " Ung nouveau roy creerent, 
 
 Par despiteux vouloir, 
 Le vieil en debouterent, 
 Et son legitime hoir, 
 Qu.i fuytyf alia prendre 
 D'Escosse le gar and, 
 De tons siecles le mendre, 
 Et le plus tollerant." 
 
 Recollection des Avantures.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 187 
 
 Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, 
 Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. 1 
 
 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, 
 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, 2 
 And make of mists invading men. 
 Who loves not more the night of June 
 Than dull December's gloomy noon ? 
 The moonlight than the fog of frost ? 
 And can we say, which cheats the most ? 
 
 But who shall teach my harp to gain 
 A sound of the romantic strain, 
 Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere 
 Could win the royal Henry's ear, 3 
 
 l ln January, 1796, the exiled Count d'Artois, afterward 
 Charles X. of France, took up his residence in Holyrood, where 
 he remained until August, 1799. When again driven from his 
 country by the Revolution of July, 1830, the same unfortunate 
 prince, with all the immediate members of his family, sought 
 refuge once more in the ancient palace of the Stuarts, and 
 remained there until 18th September, 1832. 
 
 2 MS. " Than gaze out on the foggy fen." 
 
 * Mr. Ellis, in his valuable Introduction to the Specimens of
 
 1 88 MAKMION. 
 
 Famed Beauclerc call'd, for that he loved 
 
 The minstrel, and his lay approved ? 
 
 Who shall these lingering notes redeem, 
 
 Decaying on Obli vion's stream ; 
 
 Such notes as from the Breton tongue 
 
 Marie translated, Blondel sung ? 
 
 O ! born, Time's ravage to repair, 
 
 And make the dying Muse thy care ; 
 
 Who, when his scythe her hoary foe 
 
 Was poising for the final blow, 
 
 The weapon from his hand could wring, 
 
 And break his glass, and shear his wing, 
 
 And bid, reviving in his strain, 
 
 The gentle poet live again ; 
 
 Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 
 
 An unpedantic moral gay, 
 
 Nor less the dullest theme bid flit 
 
 On wings of unexpected wit ; 
 
 In letters as in life approved, 
 
 Example honour'd, and beloved, 
 
 Dear Ellis ! to the bard impart 
 
 A lesson of thy magic art, 
 
 To win at once the head and heart, 
 
 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 those of the 
 French monarch, produced the birth of romance literature. 
 Marie, soon after mentioned, compiled from Armorican origi- 
 nals, 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.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 189 
 
 At once to charm, instruct, and mend, 
 My guide, my pattern, and my Mend ! l 
 
 Such minstrel lesson to bestow 
 Be long thy pleasing task, but, O ! 
 No more by thy example teach, 
 What few can practise, 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. 2 
 Ceme listen ! bold in thy applause, 
 The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws ; 
 And, as the ancient art could stain 
 Achievements on the storied pane, 
 Irregularly traced and plann'd, 
 But yet so glowing and so grand, 
 
 1 " Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, 
 Oh master of the poet and the song 1 " 
 
 Pope to Bolingbroke. 
 
 * At Sunning-hill, Mr. Ellis's seat, near Windsor, part of 
 the first two cantos of Marmion were written.
 
 190 MARMION. 
 
 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. 
 
 THE COURT. 
 
 THE train has left the hills of Braid ; 
 The barrier guard have open made 
 (So Lindesay bade) the palisade, 
 
 That closed the tented ground ; 
 Their men the warders backward drew, 
 And carried pikes as they rode through, 
 
 Into its ample bound. 1 
 Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
 Upon the Southern band to stare. 
 And envy with their wonder rose, 
 To see such well-appointed foes ; 
 Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, 1 
 
 1 MS. " The barrier guard the Lion knew, 
 
 Advanced their pikes, and soon withdrew 
 The slender palisades and few 
 
 That closed the tented ground ; 
 And Marmion with his train rode through, 
 Across its ample bound." 
 
 . "So long their shafts, so large their bows." 
 191
 
 192 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 So huge, that many simply thought, 
 But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ; 
 And little deem'd their force to feel, 
 Through links of mail, and plates of steel, 
 When rattling upon Flodden vale, 
 The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail 1 
 
 II. 
 
 Nor less did Marmion's skilful view 
 Glance every line and squadron through ; 
 And much he marvelTd 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. 
 Young knights and squires, a lighter train, 
 Practised their chargers on the plain, 2 
 By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 
 
 Each warlike feat to show, 
 
 1 This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties 
 of England, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraor- 
 dinary length were actually used. Thus, at the battle of 
 Blackheath, between the troops of Henry VII., and the Corn- 
 ish insurgents, in 1496, the bridge of Dartford was defended 
 by a picked band of archers from the rebel army, "whose 
 arrows," says Holinshed, " were in length a full cloth yard." 
 The Scottish, according to Ascham, had a proverb, that every 
 English archer carried under his belt twenty-four Scots, in 
 allusion to his bundle of unerring shafts. 
 2 MS. " There urged their chargers on the plain."
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 193 
 
 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. 1 
 He saw the hardy burghers there 
 March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare, 2 
 
 For vizor they wore none, 
 Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight ; 
 But burnish'd were their corslets bright, 
 Their brigantines, and gorgets light, 
 
 Like very silver shone. 
 Long pikes they had for standing fight, 
 
 Two-handed swords they wore, 
 
 1 The most useful air, as the Frenchmen term it, is terri- 
 terr ; the courbettes, cdbrioles, or un pas 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 useful in a fight or meslee; for, as 
 Labroue hath it, in his Book of Horsemanship, Monsieur de 
 Montmorency having a horse that was excellent in performing 
 the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike down two adver- 
 saries from their horses in a tourney, where divers of the 
 prime gallants of France did meet ; for, taking his tune, when 
 the horse was in the height of his courbette, and discharging 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 Cherbury's 
 Life, p. 48. 
 
 2 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 100 : their armour to 
 be of white or bright harness. They wore white fiats, i.e. bright 
 steel caps, without crest or visor. By an act of James IV., 
 their weapon-schawings are appointed to be held four times 
 a year, under the aldermen or bailiffs. 
 
 13
 
 194 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 And many wielded mace of weight, 1 
 And bucklers bright they bore. 
 
 III. 
 
 On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd 
 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 halbert, axe, or spear, 2 
 A crossbow there, a hagbut here, 
 
 A dagger-knife, and brand. 
 Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer, 
 
 1 MS. " And malls did many j ^^ I of weight." 
 
 2 Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peas- 
 antry of Scotland, by repeated statutes ; spears and axes seem 
 universally to have been used instead of them. Their defen- 
 sive armour was the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantine ; and 
 their missile weapons, crossbows and culverins. All wore 
 swords of excellent temper, according to Patten ; and a volu- 
 minous 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 then- foes, 
 With leaden mauls, and lances long." 
 
 When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, 
 each man was obliged to appear with forty days' provision. 
 When this was expended, which took place before the battle of 
 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.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 195 
 
 As loath to leave his cottage dear, 
 
 And march to foreign strand ; 
 
 Or musing, who would guide his steer, 
 
 To till the faUow 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, 
 In eager mood to battle came, 
 Their valour like light straw on flame, 
 
 A fierce but fading fire. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Not so the Borderer : bred to war, 
 He knew the battle's din afar, 
 
 And joy'd 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-arm'd 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 Borderer's game. 
 Their gain, their glory, their delight, 
 To sleep the day, maraud the night, 
 
 O'er mountain, moss, and moor; 
 Joyful to fight they took their way, 
 Scarce caring who might win the day, 
 
 Their booty was secure.
 
 1 96 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by, 
 Look'd on at first with careless eye, 
 Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know 
 The form and force of English bow. 
 But when they saw the Lord array'd 
 In splendid arms, and rich brocade, 
 Each Borderer to his kinsman said, 
 " Hist, Eingan ! seest thou there ! 
 Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride ? 
 ! 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 ; l 
 Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied, 
 
 Could make a kirtle rare." 
 
 V. 
 
 Next, Marmion mark'd the Celtic race, 
 Of different language, form, and face, 
 
 A various race of man ; 
 Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd, 
 And wild and garish semblance made, 
 The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid, 
 
 1 MS. " Hist, Kingan ! seest thou there ! 
 
 Canst guess what homeward road they take 
 By Eusedale glen, or Yetholm lake ? 
 O ! could we but by bush or brake 
 
 Beset a prize so fair ! 
 The fangless Lion, too, his guide, 
 Might chance to lose his glittering hide."
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 197 
 
 And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd, 
 
 To every varying clan ; 
 Wild through their red or sable hair 
 Look'd out their eyes with savage stare, 1 
 
 On Marmion as he pass'd ; 
 Their legs above the knee were bare ; 
 Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, 
 
 And harden'd to the blast ; 
 Of taller race, the chiefs they own 
 Were by the eagle's plumage known. 
 The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide 
 Their hairy buskins well supplied ; 
 The graceful bonnet deck'd their head : 
 Back from their shoulders hung the plaid ; 
 A broadsword 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 mix'd, 
 Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt. 
 
 . " Wild /row their red and swarthy hair 
 
 Look'd through their eyes with savage stare."
 
 198 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd, 
 
 And reach'd the City gate at last, 
 
 Where all around, a wakeful guard, 
 
 Arm'd burghers kept their watch and ward. 
 
 Well had they cause of jealous fear, 
 
 When lay encamp'd, in field so near, 
 
 The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 
 
 As through the bustling streets they go, 
 
 All was alive with martial show: 
 
 At every turn, with dinning clang, 
 
 The armourer's anvil clash'd and rang ; 
 
 Or toil'd the swarthy smith, to wheel 
 
 The bar that arms the charger's heel ; 
 
 Or axe, or falchion, to the side 
 
 Of jarring grindstone 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, 
 Discuss'd his lineage, told his name, 
 His following, 1 and his warlike fame. 
 The Lion led to lodging meet, 
 Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street ; 
 
 There must the Baron rest, 
 Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
 
 1 Following Feudal' retainers. This word, by the way, 
 has been, since the Author of Marmion used it, and thought it 
 called for explanation, completely adopted into English, and 
 especially into Parliamentary parlance. ED.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 199 
 
 And then to Holy-Kood must ride, 
 
 Such was the King's behest. 
 Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns 
 A banquet rich, and costly wines, 
 
 To Marmion and his train ; 1 
 And when the appointed hour succeeds, 
 The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, 
 And following Lindesay as he leads, 
 
 The palace-halls they gain. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Old Holy-Eood rung merrily, 
 That night, with wassell, mirth, and glee : 
 King James within her princely bower 
 Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power, 
 Summon'd to spend the parting hour ; 
 For he had charged, that his array 
 Should southward march by break of day. 
 Well loved that splendid monarch aye 
 
 The banquet and the song, 
 By day the tourney, and by night 
 The merry dance, traced fast and light, 
 
 1 In all transactions of great or petty importance, and 
 among whomsoever taking place, it would seem that a present 
 of wine was a uniform and indispensable preliminary. It was 
 not to Sir John Falstaff alone that such an introductory pref- 
 ace was necessary, however well judged and acceptable on the 
 part of Mr. Brook ; for Sir Ralph Sadler, while on an embassy 
 to Scotland in 1539-40, mentions, with complacency, "the 
 same night came Rothesay (the herald so called) to me again, 
 and brought me wine from the king, both white and red." 
 Clifford's Edition, p. 39.
 
 200 MARMION. Canto F. 
 
 The maskers 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-ear'd cap, and motley vest, 
 The licensed fool retail'd 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 
 
 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 mix'd crowd of glee and game. 
 The King to greet Lord Marmion came, 
 
 While, reverent, all made room. 
 An easy task it was, I trow, 
 King James's manly form to know, 
 Although, his courtesy to show, 
 He doffd, to Marmion bending low,
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 201 
 
 His broider'd cap and plume. 
 For royal was his garb and mien, 
 
 His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, 
 
 Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild ; 
 His vest of changeful satin sheen, 
 
 The dazzled eye beguiled ; 
 His gorgeous collar hung adown, 
 Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, 1 
 The thistle brave, of old renown : 
 His trusty blade, Toledo right, 2 
 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 button'd with a ruby rare : 
 And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen 
 A prince of such a noble mien. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Monarch's form was middle size ; 
 For feat of strength, or exercise, 
 
 Shaped in proportion fair ; 
 And hazel was his eagle eye, 
 And auburn of the darkest dye, 
 
 1 MS. " Bearing the badge of Scotland's crown." 
 
 3 MS. " His trusty blade, Toledo right, 
 
 Descended from a baldric bright, 
 
 And dangled at his knee : 
 White were his buskins ; from their heel 
 
 His spurs inlaid ) . 
 
 } of gold and steel 
 His fretted spurs ) 
 
 Were jingling merrily."
 
 202 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 His short curl'd beard and hair. 
 Light was his footstep in the dance, 
 
 And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 
 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 joy'd 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. 1 
 
 *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 never had this 
 token of the iron belt to show to any Scottishman. 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 some- 
 times 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 tune in Stirling, to plunge again into the tide of 
 pleasure. Probably, too, with no unusual inconsistency, 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
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 203 
 
 Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, 
 Soon as the passing pang was o'er 
 Forward he rush'd, with double glee, 
 Into the stream of revelry : 
 Thus, dim-seen object of affright 
 Startles the courser in his flight, 
 And half he halts, half springs aside ; 
 But feels the quickening spur applied, 
 And, straining on the tighten'd rein, 
 Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. 
 
 X. 
 
 O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, 
 Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway : l 
 
 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 lang in Striviling. 
 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," etc. 
 See the whole in Sibbald's Collection, vol. i. p. 234. 
 
 1 It has been already noticed (see note to stanza xiii. of 
 canto i.) that King James's acquaintance 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
 
 204 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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, 1 
 
 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 Kerr, of Cessford, 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 
 Fastcastle, where the former died. Part of the pretence of 
 Lady Ford's negotiations with James was the liberty of her 
 husband. 
 
 1 Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the King 
 of Scotland, calling him her love, showing him that she had 
 suffered much rebuke in France for the defending of his 
 honour. She believed surely that he would recompense her 
 again with some of his kingly support in her necessity ; 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 fourteen thousand French 
 crowns to pay his expenses. Pitscottie, p. 110. A turquois 
 ring ; probably this fatal gift is, with James's sword and dagger, 
 preserved in the College of Heralds, London.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 205 
 
 And march, three miles on Southron land, 
 And bid the banners of his band 
 
 In English breezes dance. 
 And thus for France's Queen he drest 
 His manly limbs in mailed vest ; 
 And thus admitted English fair 
 His inmost counsels still to share ; 
 And thus, for both, he madly plann'd 
 The ruin of himself and land ! 
 
 And yet, the sooth to tell, 
 Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, 1 
 "Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 
 
 From Margaret's eyes that fell, 
 His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, 
 All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 
 
 XL 
 
 The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 
 
 And weeps the weary day, 
 The war against her native soil, 
 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 touch'd and tuned them all, 
 
 1 MS. " Nor France's Queen, nor England's fair, 
 Were worth one pearl-drop, passing rare, 
 From Margaret's eyes that fell."
 
 206 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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. 1 
 And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, 
 Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
 And then around the silent ring ; 
 And laugh'd, and blush'd, 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 : 
 
 XII. 
 
 LOCHINVAR, 2 LADY HERON'S SONG. 
 
 0, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 
 Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
 And save his good broadsword, he weapons had 
 
 none, 
 He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. 
 
 1 The MS. has only 
 
 " For, all for heat, was laid aside 
 Her wimpled hood and gorget's pride : 
 And on the righted harp with glee, 
 Mingled with arch simplicity, 
 A soft, yet lively, air she rang, 
 While thus her voice attendant sang." 
 
 2 The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded 
 on a ballad called Katharine Janfarie, which may be found in 
 the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. iii.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 207 
 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 
 
 He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, 
 He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; 
 But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
 The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 
 Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
 
 So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 
 
 Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and 
 
 all: 
 
 Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 
 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 
 " O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
 Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ? " 
 
 " I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; 
 Love swells like the Sol way, 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 kiss'd the goblet : the knight took it up, 
 He quaff d off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
 She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, 
 With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
 
 1 See the novel of Redgauntlet, for a detailed picture of 
 some of the extraordinary phenomena of the spring-tides in 
 the Solway Frith.
 
 ao8 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 While her mother did fret, and her father did 
 fume, 
 
 And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and 
 plume ; 
 
 And the bride-maidens whisper'd, " 'Twere better by 
 far, 
 
 To have match'd our fair cousin with young Loch- 
 invar." 
 
 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger 
 
 stood near; 
 
 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
 " She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and 
 
 scaur ; 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 
 
 Lochinvar. 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 
 
 clan; 
 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 
 
 they ran : 
 
 There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 209 
 
 So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Monarch o'er the siren hung, 
 And beat the measure as she sung ; 
 And, pressing closer, and more near, 
 He whisper'd praises in her ear. 
 In loud applause the courtiers vied ; 
 And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside. 
 
 The witching dame to Marmion threw 
 A glance, where seem'd to reign 
 
 The pride that claims applauses due, 
 
 And of her royal conquest too, 
 
 A real or f eign'd 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. 
 Straight took he forth the parchment broad, 
 Which Marmion's high commission show'd : 
 " Our Borders sack'd by many a raid, 
 
 Our peaceful liege-men robb'd," he said ; 
 " On day of truce our Warden slain, 
 Stout Barton kill'd, his vassals 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." 
 
 14
 
 2io MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He paused, and led where Douglas stood, 
 And with stern eye the pageant view'd : 
 I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, 
 Who coronet of Angus bore, 
 And, when his blood and heart were high, 1 
 Did the third James in camp defy, 
 And all his 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 ; 2 
 The same who left the dusky vale 
 Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, 
 
 Its dungeons, and its towers, 
 Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air, 
 And Bothwell bank is blooming fair, 
 
 To fix his princely bowers. 
 Though now, in age, he had laid down 
 His armour for the peaceful gown, 
 
 And for a staff his brand, 
 Yet often would flash forth the fire, 
 That could, in youth, a monarch's ire 
 
 And minion's pride withstand ; 
 And even that day, at council board, 
 
 Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood, 
 
 1 MS. " And, when his blood and heart were high, 
 King James's minions led to die, 
 On Lauder's dreary flat." 
 
 9 Bell-the-Cat, see Appendix, Note M.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 211 
 
 Against the war had Angus stood, 
 And chafed his royal Lord. 1 
 
 XV. 
 
 His giant-form, like ruin'd tower, 
 Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt, 
 Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, 
 
 Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower : 
 His locks and beard in silver grew ; 
 His eyebrows 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 Eeturn to Lindisfarne, 
 
 Until my herald come again. 
 Then rest you on Tantallon Hold ; z 
 
 1 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 fighting, that the 
 king said to him, with scorn and indignation, " If he was 
 afraid, he might go home." The earl burst into tears at this 
 insupportable insult, and retired accordingly, leaving his sons, 
 George, Master of Angus, and Sir William 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 calamities of his house and 
 his country, retired into a religious house, where he died about 
 a year after the field of Flodden. 
 
 3 The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock project- 
 ing into the German Ocean, about two miles east of North
 
 212 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 Your host shall be the Douglas bold, 
 A chief unlike his sires of old. 
 
 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 was a principal castle of the 
 Douglas family, and when the Earl of Angus was banished, in 
 1527, it continued to hold out against James V. The King 
 went in person against it, and, for its reduction, borrowed 
 from the Castle of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of 
 Albany, two great cannons, whose names, as Pitscottie in- 
 forms us with laudable minuteness, were " Thrawn-mouth'd 
 Meg and her Marrow;" also, "two great botcards, and two 
 moyan, two double falcons, and four quarter falcons ; " for the 
 safe guiding and re-delivery of which, three lords were laid 
 in pawn at Dunbar. Yet, notwithstanding all this apparatus, 
 James was forced to raise the siege, and only afterward ob- 
 tained possession of Tantallon by treaty with the governor, 
 Simon Panango. When the Earl of Angus returned from ban- 
 ishment, upon the death of James, he again obtained posses- 
 sion of Tantallon, and it actually afforded refuge to an English 
 ambassador, under circumstances similar to those described in 
 the text. This was no other than the celebrated Sir Ralph 
 Sadler, who resided there for some time under Angus' s pro- 
 tection, after the failure of his negotiation for matching the 
 infant Mary with Edward VI. He says that, though this 
 place was poorly furnished, it was of such strength as might 
 warrant him against the malice of his enemies, and that he 
 now thought himself out of danger. 1 
 
 There is a military tradition, that the old Scottish March 
 was meant to express the words, 
 
 Ding down Tantallon, 
 Mak a brig to the Bass. 
 
 Tantallon was at length " dung down " and ruined by the 
 Covenanters, its lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a fa- 
 
 1 The very curious State Papers of this able negotiator were, in 
 1810, published by Mr. Clifford, with some notes by the Author of 
 Marmion.
 
 Tantallon Castle. 
 
 Photogravure from Drawing by J. M. W. Turner, R. A.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 213 
 
 He wears their motto on his blade, 1 
 Their blazon o'er his towers display'd ; 
 Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, 
 More than to face his country's foes. 
 And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen, 
 
 But e'en this morn to me was given 2 
 A prize, the first fruits of the war, 
 Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar, 
 
 vourer of the royal cause. The castle and barony were sold 
 in the beginning of the eighteenth century to President Dal- 
 rymple of North Berwick, by the then Marquis of Douglas. 
 
 1 A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, 
 bears, among a great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing 
 to a heart, which is placed betwixt them, and the date 1329, 
 being the year in which Bruce charged the Good Lord Douglas 
 to carry his heart to the holy land. The following lines (the 
 first couplet of which is quoted by Godscroft as a popular say- 
 ing in his time) are inscribed around the emblem : 
 
 " So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beinge, 
 Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine. 
 
 " I will ye charge, efter yat I depart, 
 To holy grawe, and thair bury my hart ; 
 Let it remane ever BOTHE TTME 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 relic was nearly lost during the Civil 
 War of 1745-46, being carried away from Douglas Castle by 
 some of those in arms for Prince Charles. But great interest 
 having been made by the Duke of Douglas among the chief 
 partisans of the Stuart, it was at length restored. It resembles 
 a Highland claymore, of the usual size, is of an excellent tem- 
 per, and admirably poised. 
 
 2 MS. "But yester morn was hither driven."
 
 214 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 A bevy of the maids of Heaven. 
 Under your guard, these holy maids 
 Shall safe return to cloister shades, 
 And, while they at Tantallon stay, 
 Eequiem for Cochran's soul may say." 
 And, with the slaughter'd favourite's name, 
 Across the Monarch's brow there came 
 A cloud of ire, remorse and shame. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 In answer nought could Angus speak ; 
 His proud heart swell'd well-nigh to break ; 
 He turn'd 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, 1 
 Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! 
 For sure as doth his spirit live, 
 As he said of the Douglas old, 
 
 I well may say of you, 
 That never King did subject hold, 
 In speech more free, in war more bold, 
 
 More tender and more true : 2 
 Forgive me, Douglas, once again." 
 And, while the King his hand did strain, 
 The old man's tears fell down like rain. 
 
 1 The two next lines are not in the original MS. 
 
 2 " 0, Dowglas ! Dowglas ! 
 Tendir and trew." 
 
 The Houlate.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 215 
 
 To seize the moment Marmion tried, 
 And whisper'd 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, 1 
 A stripling for a woman's heart : 
 But woe awaits a country, when 
 She sees the tears of bearded men. 
 Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high, 
 When Douglas wets his manly eye ! " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Displeased was James, that stranger viewM 
 And tamper'd 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 answer'd, grave, the royal vaunt : 
 
 " Much honour'd 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. 
 
 . " A maid to see her love depart."
 
 21 6 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 turn'd away, 
 And to his nobles loud did call, 
 " Lords, to the dance, a hall ! a hall ! " l 
 Himself his cloak and sword flung by, 
 And led Dame Heron gallantly; 
 And Minstrels, at the royal order, 
 Eung out " Blue Bonnets o'er the Border." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Leave we these revels now, to tell 
 What to Saint Hilda's maids befell, 
 Whose galley, as they sail'd 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 summon'd to prepare 
 To journey under Marmion's care, 
 As escort honour'd, 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 
 1 The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 217 
 
 She fear'd 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 : 
 Yet what petition could avail, 
 Or who would listen to the tale 
 Of woman, prisoner, and nun, 
 Mid bustle of a war begun ? 
 They deem'd it hopeless to avoid 
 The convoy of their dangerous guide. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Their lodging, so the King assign'd, 
 To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd ; 
 And thus it fell, that, passing nigh, 
 The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye, 
 
 Who warn'd him by a scroll, 
 She had a secret to reveal, 
 That much concern'd the Church's weal, 
 
 And health of sinner's 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 ; 
 To which, as common to each home, 
 At night they might in secret come.
 
 21 8 - MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 XX. 
 
 At night, in secret, there they came, 
 The Palmer and the holy dame. 
 The moon among the clouds rose 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 moonbeam broke, 
 Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, 
 
 And on the casements play'd. 
 
 And other light was none to see, 
 Save torches gliding far, 
 
 Before some chieftain of degree, 
 
 Who left the royal revelry 
 
 To bowne him for the war. 
 A solemn scene the Abbess chose ; 
 A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " O, holy Palmer ! " she began, 
 
 " For sure he must be sainted man, 
 Whose blessed feet have trod the ground 
 Where the Kedeemer's tomb is found,
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 219 
 
 For His dear Church's sake, my tale 
 Attend, nor deem of light avail, 
 Though I must speak of worldly love, 
 How vain to those who wed above ! 
 De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd l 
 Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood ; 
 (Idle it were of Whitby's dame, 
 To say of that same blood I came ;) 
 And once, when jealous rage was high, 
 Lord Marmion said despiteously, 
 Wilton was traitor in his heart, 
 And had made league with Martin Swart, 2 
 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 ; 
 
 1 There are passages in which the flatness and tediousness 
 of the narrative is relieved by no sort of beauty nor elegance of 
 diction, and which form an extraordinary contrast with the 
 more animated and finished portions of the poem. We shall 
 not afflict our readers with more than one specimen of this 
 falling off. We select it from the Abbess's explanation to De 
 Wilton : 
 
 "De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd," etc., 
 
 (and twenty-two following lines). Jeffrey. 
 
 2 A German general, who commanded the auxiliaries sent 
 by the Duchess of Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. He was 
 defeated and killed at Stokefield. 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, p. Ixi.
 
 220 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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 return'd, 
 Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd ! 
 For in his packet there were laid 
 Letters that claim'd disloyal aid, 
 And proved King Henry's cause betray'd. 
 His fame, thus blighted, in the field 
 He strove to clear, by spear and shield ; 
 To clear his fame in vain he strove, 
 For wondrous are His ways above ! 
 Perchance some form was unobserved ; 
 Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ; l 
 
 1 It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obliged 
 to believe in the divine judgment being enunciated in the trial 
 by duel, to find salvos for the strange and obviously 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, accused 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 onset. "Turn, coward !" exclaimed his antagonist. 
 "Thou liest," said the Italian, "coward am I none; and in 
 this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my first cause of 
 combat was unjust, and I abandon it." " Je vous laisse it 
 Denser," adds Brantome, " s'iZ n'y a pas de Vabus ia." Else- 
 where he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 221 
 
 Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
 Or how the blessed ordeal fail ? 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " His squire, who now De Wilton saw 
 As recreant doom'd to suffer law, 
 
 Repentant, own'd in vain, 
 That, while he had the scrolls in care, 
 A stranger maiden, passing fair, 
 Had drench'd him with a beverage rare ; 
 
 His words no faith could gain. 
 With Clare alone he credence won, 
 Who, rather than wed Marmion, 
 Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 
 To give our house her livings fair, 
 And die a vestal vot'ress there. 
 The impulse from the earth was given, 
 But bent her to the paths of heaven. 
 A purer heart, a lovelier maid, 
 Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, 
 No, not since Saxon Edelfled ; 
 
 Only one trace of earthly strain, 
 That for her lover's loss 
 
 who had a righteous cause entertained of victory : " Un autre 
 aJbus y avoit-il, que ceux qui avoient un juste subjet de querelle, 
 et qu'on les faisoit jurer avant entrer au camp, pensoient estre 
 aussitost vainqueurs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du tout, mesmes 
 que leurs confesseurs, parrains et confidants leurs en respon- 
 doient tout-a-fait, comme si Dieu leur en eust donne unepatente; 
 et ne regardant point a d'autres fautes passees, et que Dieu en 
 garde la punition a ce coup la pour plus grande, despiteuse, et 
 exemplaire." Discours sur les Duels.
 
 222 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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, 
 
 Should do a deadly sin, 
 Her temple spoil'd 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. 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 " Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd 
 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 betray'd, 
 And with his squire forged letters laid, 
 She was, alas ! that sinful maid, 
 
 By whom the deed was done,
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 223 
 
 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 was) 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 retain'd 
 
 Each proof that might the plot reveal, 
 
 Instructions with his hand and seal : 
 And thus Saint Hilda deign'd, 
 
 Through sinners' perfidy impure, 
 
 Her house's glory to secure, 
 And Clare's immortal weal. 
 
 xxrv. 
 
 " 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 !
 
 224 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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 show them to the King : 
 
 And, for thy well-earn'd meed, 
 Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine 
 A weekly mass shall still be thine, 
 
 While priests can sing and read. 
 What ail'st thou ? 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 shriek'd 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 blazon'd banners toss ! " 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 1 
 Eose on a turret octagon ; 
 
 1 MS. " Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 
 Rose on a turret hexagon ; 
 (Dust unto dust, lead unto lead, 
 
 On its destroyer's drowsy ) , 
 
 ., , , > head ! 
 
 Upon its base destroyer's > 
 
 The Minstrel's malison is said.) "
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 225 
 
 (But now is razed that monument, 
 Whence royal edict rang, 
 
 And voice of Scotland's law was sent 
 
 In glorious trumpet-clang. 
 O ! be his tomb as lead to lead, 
 Upon its dull destroyer's head ! 
 A minstrel's malison l is said. 2 ) 
 Then on its battlements they saw 
 A vision, passing Nature's law, 
 
 Strange, wild, and dimly seen ; 
 Figures that seem'd to rise and die, 
 Gibber and sign, advance and fly, 
 While nought confirm'd could ear or eye 
 
 1 i. e. Curse. 
 
 3 The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious 
 structure. 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 Grecian 
 shape. Above these was a projecting battlement, with a turret 
 at each corner, and medallions, of rude but curious workman- 
 ship, between them. Above this rose the proper cross, a 
 column of one stone, upwards of twenty feet high, surmounted 
 with a unicorn. This pillar is preserved in the grounds of the 
 property of Drum, near Edinburgh. The magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh, in 1756, with consent of the Lords of Session (proh 
 jmdor/), destroyed this curious monument, under a wantoa 
 pretext that it encumbered the street ; while, on the one hand, 
 they left an ugly mass called -the Luckenbooths, and, on the 
 other, an awkward, long, and low guard-house, which were 
 fifty times more encumbrance than the venerable and inoffen- 
 sive cross. 
 
 From the tower of the cross, so long as it remained, the 
 heralds published the acts of Parliament ; and its site, marked 
 by radii, diverging from a stone centre, in the High Street, is 
 still the place where proclamations are made. 
 15
 
 226 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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 ; 
 It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 
 From midmost of the spectre crowd, 
 
 This awful summons came: 1 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 ' Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, 
 
 Whose names I now shall call, 
 Scottish, or foreigner, give ear I 
 Subjects of him who sent me here, 
 At his tribunal to appear, 
 I summon one and all : 
 I cite you by each deadly sin, 
 That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within ; 
 I cite you by each brutal lust, 
 That e'er defiled your earthly dust, 
 
 By wrath, by pride, by fear, 2 
 By each o'er-mastering passion's tone, 
 By the dark grave, and dying groan ! 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note N. 
 
 2 MS. " By wrath, by fraud, by fear."
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 227 
 
 When forty days are pass'd and gone, 1 
 I cite you, at your Monarch's throne, 
 
 To answer and appear." 
 Then thunder'd forth a roll of names : 
 The first was thine, unhappy James ! 
 
 Then all thy nobles came ; 
 Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, 
 Boss, Both well, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle, 
 Why should I tell their separate style ? 
 
 Each chief of birth and fame, 
 Of Lowknd, Highland, Border, Isle, 
 Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, 
 
 Was cited there by name ; 
 And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 
 Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye ; 
 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, 
 
 The summoner was gona 
 Prone on her face the Abbess fell, 
 And fast, and fast, her beads did tell ; 
 
 1 MS. " Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone, 
 Before the mighty Monarch's throne, 
 I cite you to appear." 
 
 a MS. "In thundering tone the voice did say."
 
 228 MARMION. Canto V* 
 
 Her nuns came, startled by the yell, 
 
 And found her there alone. 
 She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, 
 What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd. 
 
 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 gray-hair'd 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 : 
 Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, 
 The Palmer still was with the band ; 
 Angus, like Lindesay, did command, 
 
 That none should roam at large. 
 But in that Palmer's alter'd mien 
 A wondrous change might now be seen, 
 
 Freely he spoke of war, 
 Of marvels wrought by single hand, 
 When lifted for a native land ; 
 And still look'd high, as if he plann'd 
 
 Some desperate deed afar. 
 His courser would he feed and stroke, 
 And, tucking up his sable frocke, 
 Would first his mettle bold provoke,
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 229 
 
 Then soothe or quell his pride. 
 Old Hubert said, that never one 
 He saw, except Lord Marmion, 
 
 A steed so fairly ride. 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 Some half-hour's march- behind, there came, 
 By Eustace govern'd fair, 
 
 A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, 
 With all her nuns, and Clare. 
 
 No audience had Lord Marmion sought; 
 Ever he fear'd 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 fann'd by looks and sighs, 
 And lighted oft at lady's eyes ; 
 He long'd 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, 
 
 Yet conquest, by that meanness won 
 
 He almost loath'd to think upon, 
 
 Led him, at times, to hate the cause, 
 
 Which made him burst through honour's laws.
 
 230 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 If e'er he lov*d, 'twas her alone, 
 Who died within that vault of stone. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And now, when close at hand they saw 
 North Berwick's town, and lofty Law, 1 
 Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, 
 Before a venerable pile, 2 
 
 Whose turrets view'd, afar, 
 The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, 3 
 
 The ocean's peace or war. 
 At tolling of a bell, forth came 
 The convent's venerable Dame, 
 And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest 
 With her, a loved and honour'd guest, 
 Till Douglas should a bark prepare 
 To waft her back to Whitby fair. 
 Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, 
 And thank'd the Scottish Prioress ; 
 And tedious were to tell, I ween, 
 The courteous speech that pass'd between. 
 
 O'er joy'd the nuns their palfreys leave ; 
 But when fair Clara did intend, 
 like them, from horseback to descend, 
 
 Fitz-Eustace said, "I grieve, 
 Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, 
 
 1 MS. " North Berwick's town, and conic Law." 
 
 2 The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns, 
 near North Berwick, of which there are still some remains. It 
 was founded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216. 
 
 8 MS. " The lofty Bass, the LamVs green isle."
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 231 
 
 Such gentle company to part ; 
 
 Think not discourtesy, 
 But lords' commands must be obey'd ; 
 And Marmion and the Douglas said, 
 
 That you must wend with me. 
 Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, 
 Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, 
 Commanding, that, beneath his care, 
 Without delay, you shall repair 
 To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd ; 
 But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, 
 Grew pale as death, and cold as lead, 
 She deem'd she heard her death-doom react 
 " 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.
 
 232 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 Her faithful guardian he will be, 
 
 Nor sue for slightest courtesy 
 That e'en to stranger falls, 
 
 Till he shall place her, safe and free, 
 Within her kinsman's halls." 
 
 He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace ; 
 
 His faith was painted on his face, 
 And Clare's worst fear relieved. 
 
 The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd 
 
 On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, 
 Entreated, threaten'd, grieved ; 
 
 To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, 
 
 Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd, 
 
 And call'd 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 obey'd ; 
 
 Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall 
 
 The maiden in Tantallon hall." 
 
 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
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 233 
 
 Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, 1 
 Bid him his fate explore ! 
 
 Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 
 
 His charger hurl'd 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 
 
 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 ? 
 
 1 This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de Mar- 
 mion, in the reign of King Stephen, whom William of New- 
 bury describes with some attributes of my fictitious hero : 
 "Homo bellicosus, ferocia, et astucia, fere nullo suo tempore 
 impa.r." This baron, having expelled the monks from the 
 church of Coventry, was not long of experiencing the divine 
 judgment, as the same monks, no doubt, termed his disaster. 
 Having waged a feudal war with the Earl of Chester, Mar- 
 mion'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 off by a common foot-soldier ere 
 he could receive any succour. The whole story is told by 
 William of Newbury.
 
 234 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 In that inviolable dome, 1 
 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 ! " 
 
 1 This line, necessary to the rhyme, is now for the first time 
 restored from the MS. It must have been omitted by an over- 
 sight in the original printing. ED.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 235 
 
 Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 
 
 Kind blessings many a one : 
 Weeping and wailing loud arose, 
 Eound 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 pass'd, 
 And, sudden, close before them showM 
 
 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 enclose, 
 
 And double mound and fosse. 1 
 
 1 During the regency (subsequent to the death of James V.) 
 the dowager queen regent, Mary of Guise, became desirous 
 of putting a French garrison into Tantallon, as she had into 
 Dunbar and Inchkeith, in order the better to bridle the lords 
 and barons who inclined to the reformed faith, and to secure 
 by citadels the sea-coast of the Frith of Forth. For this pur- 
 pose, the regent, to use the phrase of the time, "dealed with " 
 the (then) Earl of Angus for his consent to the proposed meas- 
 ure. He occupied himself, while she was speaking, in feeding
 
 236 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong, 
 Through studded gates, an entrance long, 
 
 To the main court they cross. 
 It was a wide and stately square : 
 Around were lodgings, fit and fair, 
 
 And towers of various form, 
 Which on the court projected far, 
 And broke its lines quadrangular. 
 Here was square keep, there turret high, 
 Or pinnacle that sought the sky, 
 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 ? 
 And, first, they heard King James had won 
 
 a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only replied by address- 
 ing the bird, but leaving the queen to make the application, 
 "The devil is in this greedy gled she will never be fou." 
 But when the queen, without appearing to notice this hint, 
 continued to press her obnoxious request, Angus replied, in 
 the true spirit of a feudal noble, "Yes, madam, the castle is 
 yours ; God forbid else. But by the might of God, madam ! " 
 such was his usual oath. " I must be your captain and keeper 
 for you, and I will keep it as well as any you can place there." 
 Sir Walter Scott's Provincial Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 167.
 
 Canto V. THE COURT. 237 
 
 Etall, and Wark, and Ford ; and then, 
 
 That Norham Castle strong was ta'en. 
 At that sore marvell'd Marmion ; 
 And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand 
 Would soon subdue Northumberland : 
 
 But whisper'd 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 gather'd in the Southern land, 
 And march'd 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,
 
 238 MARMION. Canto V. 
 
 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.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 To Richard Heber, Esq. 
 
 Mertoun-House, 1 Christmas. 
 HEAP on more wood ! the wind is chill ; 
 But let it whistle as it will, 
 We'll keep our Christmas merry stilL 
 Each age has deem'd the new-born year 
 The fittest time for festal cheer : 
 Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane 
 At lol more deep the mead did drain ; 2 
 
 1 Mertoun-House, the seat of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden, 
 is beautifully situated on the Tweed, about two miles below 
 Dryburgh Abbey. 
 
 3 The lol of the heathen Danes (a word still applied to 
 Christmas in Scotland) was solemnised with great festivity. 
 The humour of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting 
 each other with bones ; and Torfseus tells a long and curious 
 story, in the History of Hrolfe Kraka, of one Hottus, an inmate 
 of the court of Denmark, who was so generally assailed with 
 these missiles, that he constructed, out of the bones with which 
 he was overwhelmed, a very respectable intrenchment, against 
 those who continued the raillery. The dances of the northern 
 warriors around the great fires of pine-trees are commemorated 
 by Olaus Magnus, who says they danced with such fury, hold- 
 ing each other by the hands, that, if the grasp of any failed, he 
 
 239
 
 240 MARMION. 
 
 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 deck'd the wall, 
 
 They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer ; 
 
 Caroused in seas of sable beer ; 
 
 While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 
 
 The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone, 
 
 Or listen'd all, in grim delight, 
 
 While scalds yell'd out the joys of fight. 
 
 Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, 
 
 While wildly-loose their red locks fly, 
 
 And dancing round the blazing pile, 
 
 They make such barbarous mirth the while,, 
 
 As best might to the mind recall 
 
 The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. 
 
 And well our Christian sires of old 
 Loved when the year its course had roll'd, 
 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 : 
 That only night in all the year, 
 Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. 1 
 
 was pitched into the fire with the velocity of a sling. The suf- 
 ferer, on such occasions, was instantly plucked out, and obliged 
 to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a penalty for " spoiling 
 the king's fire." 
 
 1 In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night,
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 241 
 
 The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen ; 
 The hall was dress'd with holly green ; 
 Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 
 To gather in the mistletoe. 
 Then open'd wide the Baron's hall 
 
 except on Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which that 
 holyday used to be celebrated might admit of a long and curi- 
 ous note ; but I shall content myself with the following descrip- 
 tion 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 brooch, a long thin beard, a truncheon, 
 little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, and 
 his drum beaten before him. The names of his children, with 
 their attires : Miss-Rule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short 
 cloak, great yellow ruff, like a reveller ; his torch-bearer bear- 
 ing a rope, a cheese, and a basket ; Caroll, a long tawny 
 coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his girdle ; his torch-bearer 
 carrying a song-book open ; Minc'd-pie, like a fine cook's 
 wife, drest neat, her man carrying a pie, dish, and spoons ; 
 Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells ; his torch- 
 bearer arm'd with cole-staff, and blinding cloth ; Post and 
 Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his garment all done 
 over with pairs and purs ; his squire, carrying a box, cards, 
 and counters ; 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 brooches, with a collar of gingerbread ; 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 ; 
 Wassal, like a neat sempster and songster ; her page bearing a 
 brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, before her ; 
 Offering, 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/' 
 
 16
 
 242 MARMION. 
 
 To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
 
 Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
 
 And Ceremony doffd his pride. 
 
 The heir, with roses in his shoes, 
 
 That night might village partner choose ; 
 
 The Lord, underogating, share 
 
 The vulgar game of " post and pair." 
 
 All hail'd, with uncontroll'd 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 ; 
 The huge hall-table's oaken face, 
 Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, 
 Bore then upon its massive board 
 No mark to part the squire and lord. 
 Then was brought in the lusty brawn, 
 By old blue-coated serving-man ; 
 Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, 
 Crested with bays and rosemary. 
 Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 
 How, when, and where, the monster fell ; 
 What dogs before his death he tore, 
 And all the baiting of the boar. 1 
 
 1 MS. " And all the hunting of the boar. 
 
 Then round the merry wassel bowl, 
 Garnish'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl, 
 And the large sirloin steam'd on high, 
 Plum-porridge, hare, and savoury pie."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 243 
 
 The wassel round, in good brown bowls, 
 Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls. 
 There the huge sirloin reek'd ; hard by 
 Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie ; 
 Nor fail'd old Scqtland to produce, 
 At such high tide, her savoury goose. 
 Then came the merry maskers in, 
 And carols roar'd with blithesome din ; 
 If unmelodious was the song, 
 It was a hearty note, and strong. 
 Who lists may in their mumming see 
 Traces of ancient mystery ; l 
 White shirts supplied the masquerade, 
 And smutted cheeks the visors made ; 
 But, ! what maskers, richly dight, 
 Can boast of bosoms half so light ! 
 
 1 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 ploughshare 
 and the Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, present, 
 in some indistinct degree, a shadow of the old mysteries, which 
 were the origin of the English drama. In Scotland (me ipso 
 teste), we were wont, during my boyhood, to take the charac- 
 ters of the apostles, at least of Peter, Paul, and Judas Iscariot ; 
 the first had the keys, the second carried a sword, and the 
 last the bag, in which the dole of our neighbours' plum-cake 
 was deposited. One played a champion, and recited some 
 traditional rhymes ; another was 
 
 . . . "Alexander, King of Macedon, 
 
 Who conquer'd all the world but Scotland alone ; 
 When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold, 
 To see a little nation courageous and bold." 
 
 These, and many such verses, were repeated, but by rote, and
 
 244 MARMION. 
 
 England was merry England, when 
 Old Christmas brought his sports again. 
 'Twas Christmas broach'd 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 valleys here, 
 We hold the kindred title dear, 
 Even when, perchance, its far-fetch'd claim 
 To Southron ear sounds empty name ; 
 For course of blood, our proverbs deem, 
 Is warmer than the mountain-stream. 1 
 
 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 usu- 
 ally exhibited. It were much to be wished that the Chester 
 Mysteries were published from the MS. in the Museum, with 
 the annotations which a diligent investigator of popular an- 
 tiquities might still supply. The late acute and valuable 
 antiquary, Mr. Ritson, showed me several memoranda toward 
 such a task, which are probably now dispersed or lost. See, 
 however, his Remarks on Shakespeare, 1783, p. 38. 
 
 Since the first edition of Marmion appeared, this subject 
 has received much elucidation from the learned and exten- 
 sive labours of Mr. Douce ; and the Chester Mysteries [edited 
 by J. H. Markland, Esq.] have been printed in a style of great 
 elegance and accuracy (in 1818), by Bensley & Sons, London, 
 for the Roxburghe Club. 1830. 
 
 lu Blood is warmer than water," a proverb meant to 
 vindicate our family predilections.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 245 
 
 And thus, my Christmas still I hold 
 Where my great-grandsire came of old, 
 With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 1 
 And reverend apostolic air 
 The feast and holy-tide to share, 
 And mix sobriety with wine, 
 And honest mirth with thoughts divine: 
 Small thought was his, in after time 
 E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme. 
 The simple sire could only boast, 
 That he was loyal to his cost ; 
 The banish'd race of kings revered, 
 And lost his land, but kept his beard. 
 
 In these dear halls, where welcome kind 2 
 Is with fair liberty combined ; 
 Where cordial friendship gives the hand, 
 And flies constraint the magic wand 
 Of the fair dame that rules the land. 3 
 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, 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note O. 
 
 a MS. "In these fair halls, with merry cheer, 
 Is bid farewell the dying year." 
 
 * See Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. iv.
 
 246 MARMION. 
 
 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. 1 
 Cease, then, my friend ! a moment cease, 
 And leave these classic tomes in peace ! 
 Of Eoman and of Grecian lore, 
 Sure mortal brain can hold no more. 
 These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, 
 Were pretty fellows in their day ; 2 
 But time and tide o'er all prevail 
 On Christmas eve a Christmas tale 
 Of wonder and of war " Profane ! 
 What ! leave the lofty Latian strain, 
 Her stately prose, her verse's charms, 
 To hear the clash of rusty arms : 
 In Fairy Land or Limbo lost, 
 To jostle conjurer and ghost, 
 Goblin and witch ! " Nay, Heber dear, 
 Before you touch my charter, hear ; 
 Though Leyden aids, alas ! no more, 
 
 1 The MS. adds : 
 
 " As boasts old Shallow to Sir John." 
 
 2 Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir a very pretty fellow in 
 his day. Old Bachelor.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 247 
 
 My cause with many-languaged lore, 1 
 
 This may I say : in realms of death 
 
 Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith ; 
 
 ./Eneas, upon Thracia's shore, 
 
 The ghost of murder'd Polydore ; 
 
 For omens, we in Ldvy 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." 2 
 
 1 MS. " With all his many-languaged lore." 
 
 John Leyden, M.D., who had been of great service to Sir 
 Walter Scott in the preparation of the Border Minstrelsy, sailed 
 for India in April, 1803, and died at Java in August, 1811, 
 before completing his thirty-sixth year. 
 
 ' Scenes sung by him who sings no more 1 
 His brief and bright career is o'er, 
 
 And mute his tuneful strains ; 
 Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, 
 That loved the light of song to pour : 
 A distant and a deadly shore 
 Has Ley den's cold remains ! " 
 
 Lord of the Isles, Canto iv. 
 
 See a notice of his life in the Author's Miscellaneous Prose 
 Works. 
 
 2 See Appendix, Note P.
 
 248 MARMION. 
 
 The Highlander, whose red claymore 
 The battle turn'd on Maida's shore, 
 Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, 
 If ask'd to tell a fairy tale : l 
 He fears the vengeful Elfin King, 
 Who leaves that day his grassy ring: 
 Invisible to human ken, 
 He walks among the sons of men. 
 
 Did'st e'er, dear Heber, pass along 2 
 Beneath the towers of Franche'mont, 
 Which, like an eagle's nest in air, 
 Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair ? 8 
 Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, 
 A mighty treasure buried lay, 
 
 a The Daoine shi" 1 , or Men of Peace, of the Scottish High- 
 landers, rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergar, than the 
 English 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 exist- 
 ence is deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who think they 
 are particularly offended at mortals, who talk of them, who 
 wear their favourite colour green, or in any respect interfere 
 with their affairs. This is especially to be avoided on Friday, 
 when, whether as dedicated to Venus, with whom, in Germany, 
 this subterraneous people are held nearly connected, or for a 
 more solemn reason, they are more active, and possessed of 
 greater power. Some curious particulars concerning the 
 popular superstitions of the Highlanders may be found in 
 Doctor Graham's Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire. 
 
 2 This paragraph appears interpolated on the blank page of 
 the MS. 
 
 8 MS. " Which, high in air, like eagle's nest, 
 
 Hang from the dizzy mountain's breast."
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 249 
 
 Amass'd through rapine and through wrong 
 
 By the last Lord of Franche'mont. 1 
 
 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, 
 
 lr The journal of the friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of 
 the poem is inscribed, furnished me with the following account 
 of a striking superstition : 
 
 "Passed the pretty little village of Franche'mont (near 
 Spaw), 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 Franche'mont deposited, in one of the 
 vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, containing an immense 
 treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic spell, was 
 intrusted 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 was 
 brought to the vault. He used all the arts of exorcism to per- 
 suade his infernal majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain ; the 
 huntsman remained immovable. At last, moved by the earnest- 
 ness of the priest, he told him that he would agree to resign the 
 chest if the exerciser 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 who 
 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."
 
 250 MARMION. 
 
 Whose withering glance no heart can brook, 
 
 As true a huntsman doth he look, 
 
 As bugle e'er in brake did sound, 
 
 Or ever hollow'd to a hound. 
 
 To chase the fiend, and win the prize, 
 
 In that same dungeon ever tries 
 
 An aged Necromantic Priest ; 
 
 It is an hundred years at least, 
 
 Since 'twixt them first the strife begun, 
 
 And neither yet has lost nor won. 
 
 And oft the Conjurer'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 open'd, 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 clench'd the spell, 
 
 When Franch'mont lock'd the treasure cell 
 
 An hundred years are pass'd and gone, 
 
 And scarce three letters has he won. 
 
 Such general superstition may 
 Excuse for old Pitscottie say, 
 Whose gossip history has given 
 My song the messenger from Heaven, 1 
 That warn'd, in Lithgow, Scotland's King, 
 Nor less the infernal summoning ; 2 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note L. 
 
 a The four lines which follow are not in the MS.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 251 
 
 May pass the Monk of Durham's tale, 
 Whose Demon fought in Gothic mail ; 
 May pardon plead for Fordun grave, 
 Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave. 
 But why such instances to you, 
 Who, in an instant, can renew 
 Your treasured hoards of various lore, 
 And furnish twenty thousand more ? 
 Hoards, not like theirs 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 pilfer'd 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 ? 
 But, hark ! I hear the distant drum ! 
 The day of Flodden Field is come. 
 Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, 
 And store of literary wealth.
 
 MARMION. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 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 snufifd the battle from afar ; 
 And hopes were none, that back again 
 Herald should come from Terouenne, 
 Where England's King in leaguer lay, 
 Before decisive battle-day ; 
 Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare 
 Did in the Dame's devotions share : 
 For the good Countess ceaseless pray*d 
 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 lif e both dull and dignified ; 
 Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press'd 
 253
 
 254 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Upon her intervals of rest, 
 
 Dejected Clara well could bear 
 
 The formal state, the lengthen'd prayer, 
 
 Though dearest to her wounded heart 
 
 The hours that she might spend apart. 
 
 II. 
 
 I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep 
 
 Hung o'er the margin of the deep. 
 
 Many a rude tower and rampart there 
 
 Eepell'd the insult of the air, 
 
 Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, 
 
 Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. 
 
 Above the rest, a turret square 
 
 Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, 
 
 Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; 
 
 The Bloody Heart was in the Field, 
 
 And in the chief three mullets stood, 
 
 The cognisance of Douglas blood. 
 
 The turret held a narrow stair, 1 
 
 Which, mounted, gave you access where 
 
 A parapet's embattled row 
 
 Did seaward round the castle go. 
 
 Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, 
 
 Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, 
 
 Sometimes in platform broad extending, 
 
 Its varying circle did combine 
 
 Bulwark, and bartisan, and line, 
 
 And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign ; 
 
 1 MS. " The tower contained a narrow stair, 
 And gave an open access where."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 255 
 
 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 mann'd ; 
 
 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. 
 
 m. 
 
 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 noontide ghost, would glide 
 Along the dark-gray bulwarks' side, 
 And ever on the heaving tide 
 
 Look down with weary eye. 
 Oft did the cliff, and swelling main, 
 Recall 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,
 
 256 MARMIOK Canto VI. 
 
 Again adorn'd 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 
 Eemain'd a cross with ruby stone ; 
 
 And often did she look 
 On that which in her hand she bore, 
 With velvet bound, and broider'd o'er, 
 
 Her breviary book. 
 In such a place, so lone, so grim, 
 At dawning pale, or twilight dim 
 
 It fearful would have been 
 To meet a form so richly dress'd, 1 
 With book in hand, and cross on breast, 
 
 And such a woful 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 Komance, some spellbound Queen ; 
 For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen 
 
 A form so witching fair. 2 
 
 IV. 
 
 Once walking thus, at evening tide, 
 It chanced a gliding sail she spied, 
 
 1 MS. "To meet a form so /air, and dress'd 
 
 In antique robes, with cross on breast." 
 a MS. "A form so sad and fair."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 257 
 
 And, sighing, thought " The Abbess, there, 
 
 Perchance, does to her home repair ; 
 
 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. 1 
 
 O ! wherefore, to my duller eye, 
 
 Did still the Saint her form deny ! 
 
 Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn, 
 
 1 1 shall only produce one instance more of the great ven- 
 eration 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 Ab- 
 bey of Streanshalh, or Whitby, where she so long resided. At 
 a particular time of the year (viz. in the summer months), at 
 ten or eleven in the forenoon, the sunbeams fall in the inside 
 of the northern part of the choir ; and 'tis then that the spec- 
 tators, who stand on the west side of Whitby churchyard, 
 so as just to see the most northerly part of the abbey pass the 
 north end of Whitby church, imagine they perceive, in one 
 of the highest windows there, the resemblance of a woman, 
 arrayed in a shroud. Though we are certain this is only a, 
 reflection caused by the splendour of the sunbeams, 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 glori- 
 fied 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." Charlton's History of Whitby, p. 33. 
 
 17
 
 258 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 My heart could neither melt nor burn ? 
 
 Or lie my warm affections low, 
 
 With him, that taught them first to glow ? 
 
 Yet, gentle Abhess, well I knew, 
 
 To pay thy kindness grateful due, 
 
 And well could brook the mild command, 
 
 That ruled thy simple maiden band. 
 
 How different now ! condemn'd to bide 
 
 My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. 
 
 But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 
 
 That constant mind, and hate of wrong, 
 
 Descended to a feeble girl, 
 
 From Eed De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl : 
 
 Of such a stem, a sapling weak, 1 
 
 He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 
 
 " But see ! what makes this armour here ? " 
 
 For in her path there lay 
 Targe, corslet, helm ; she view'd them near. 
 
 " The breastplate pierced ! Ay, 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, 
 
 1 MS. " Of such a stem, or branch, j OUg [ weak, 
 
 ( so ) 
 
 He ne'er shall bend me, though he break."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 259 
 
 On yon disastrous day ! " 
 She raised her eyes in mournful mood, 
 Wilton himself before her stood ! 
 It might have seem'd 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 choose 
 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, 
 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, 1 
 And modest blush, and bursting sigh, 
 And question kind, and fond reply : 
 
 1 MS. " By many a short caress delay 'd."
 
 2 6o MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 VI. 
 
 DE WILTON'S HISTORY/* 
 " Forget we that disastrous day, 
 When senseless in the lists I lay. 
 
 Thence dragg'd, but how I cannot know, 
 For sense and recollection fled, 
 
 I found me on a pallet low, 
 
 Within my ancient beadsman's shed. 2 
 
 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, 3 
 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 return'd 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. 
 
 1 When the surprise at meeting a lover rescued from the 
 dead is considered, the above picture will not be thought over- 
 charged with colouring ; and yet the painter is so fatigued with 
 his exertion, that he has finally thrown away the brush, and is 
 contented with merely chalking out the intervening adventures 
 of De Wilton, without bestowing on them any colours at all. 
 Critical Review. 
 
 2 MS. " Where an old beadsman held my head." 
 
 218. The banish'd traitor's \ humble I bed." 
 
 I lowly y
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 261 
 
 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 array'd, 
 My hated name and form to shade, 
 
 I journey'd many a land ; 
 No more a lord of rank and birth, 
 But mingled with the dregs of earth. 
 
 Oft Austin for my reason fear'd, 
 When I would sit, and deeply brood 
 On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, 
 
 Or wild mad schemes uprear'd. 
 My friend at length fell sick, and said, 
 
 God would remove him soon : 
 And, while upon his dying bed, 
 
 He begg*d of me a boon 
 If e'er my deadliest enemy 
 Beneath my brand should conquer'd 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 perish'd of my wound, 
 
 None cared which tale was true : 
 And living eye could never guess 
 De Wilton in his Palmer's dress ;
 
 262 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 For now that sable slough is shed, 
 
 And trimm'd my shaggy beard and head, 
 
 I scarcely know me in the glass. 
 
 A chance most wondrous 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 muster'd 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 borrow'd steed and mail, 
 And weapons, from his sleeping band ; 
 
 And, passing from a postern door, 
 We met, and 'counter'd, 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
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 263 
 
 The heavy debt of vengeance paid, 
 My hand the thought of Austin staid; 1 
 I left him there alone. 
 
 good old man ! even from the grave, 
 Thy spirit could thy master save : 
 
 If I had slain my foeman, ne'er 
 Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear, 
 Given to my hand this packet dear, 
 Of power to clear my injured fame, 
 And vindicate De Wilton's name. 
 Perchance you heard the Abbess tell 
 Of the strange pageantry of Hell, 
 
 That broke our secret speech 
 It rose from the infernal shade, 
 Or featly was some juggle play'd, 
 
 A tale of peace to teach. 
 Appeal to Heaven I judged was best, 
 When my name came among the rest. 
 
 IX. 
 
 a 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 falchion bright 
 This eve anew shall dub me knight. 
 These were the arms that once did turn 
 The tide of fight on Otterburne, 
 
 1 MS. " But thought of Austin staid my hand, 
 
 And in the sheath I plunged the brand ; 
 
 I left him there alone. 
 O good old man ! even from the grave, 
 Thy spirit could De Wilton save."
 
 264 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, 
 When the Dead Douglas won the field. 1 
 These Angus gave his armourer's care, 
 Ere morn, shall every breach repair ; 
 For nought, he said, was in his halls, 
 But ancient armour on the walls, 
 And aged chargers in the stalls, 
 And women, priests, and gray-hair'd men ; 
 The rest were all in Twisel glen. 2 
 And now I watch my armour here, 
 By law of arms, till midnight's near ; 
 Then, once again a belted knight, 
 Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light. 
 
 X. 
 
 *' There soon again we meet, my Clare ! 
 This Baron means to guide thee there : 
 Douglas reveres his King's command, 
 Else would he take thee from his band. 
 And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, 
 Will give De Wilton justice due. 
 Now meeter far for martial broil, 
 Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil, 
 Once more " "0 Wilton ! must we then 
 Risk new-found happiness again, 
 Trust fate of arms once more ? 
 
 J See the ballad of Otterbourne, in the Border Minstrelsy, 
 vol. i. 
 
 2 Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. 
 The MS. has 
 
 "The rest were all on Flodden. plain.' 1 ' 1
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 265 
 
 And is there not an 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 moonbeam slumbering lay, 
 And pour'd its silver light, and pure, 
 Through loophole, and through embrasure, 
 
 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 seam'd with scare, 
 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 l 
 
 1 MS. " You might not by their shine descry."
 
 266 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 The chapel's carving fair. 
 Amid that dim and smoky light, 
 Chequering the silvery moonshine bright, 
 
 A bishop by the altar stood, 1 
 
 A noble lord of Douglas blood, 
 With mitre sheen, and rocquet white. 
 Yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye 
 But little pride of prelacy ; 
 More pleased that, in a barbarous age, 
 He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page, 
 Than that beneath his rule he held 
 The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. 
 Beside him ancient Angus stood, 
 Doff d his furr'd 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. 2 
 
 1 The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son 
 of Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of 
 a Scottish metrical version of the dSneid, and of many other 
 poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at this period 
 attained the mitre. 
 
 2 Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding 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 combat, at one blow cut asunder 
 his thigh-bone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could 
 obtain James's pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to 
 yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for that of Both well,
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. * 2 6 7 
 
 He seem'd as, from the tombs around 
 
 Rising at judgment-day, 
 Some giant Douglas may be found 
 
 In all his old array ; 
 So pale his face, so huge his limb, 
 So old his arms, his look so grim. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then at the altar Wilton kneels, 
 And Clare the spurs bound on his heels ; 
 And think what next he must have felt, 
 At buckling of the falchion 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." 1 
 And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, 
 
 which was some diminution to the family greatness. The 
 sword with which he struck so remarkable a blow was pre- 
 sented by his descendant, James, Earl of Morton, afterward 
 Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he 
 defied Bothwell to single combat on Cajberry-hill. See Intro- 
 duction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 
 
 1 The following (five lines) are a sort of mongrel between 
 the school of Sternhold and Hopkins, and the later one of Mr. 
 "Wordsworth. Jeffrey.
 
 268 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Said " Wilton ! grieve not for thy woes, 
 
 Disgrace, and trouble ; 
 For He, who honour best bestows, 
 
 May give thee double." 
 De Wilton sobb'd, for sob he must 
 " Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust 
 
 That Douglas is my brother ! " 
 " 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 whisper'd in an under tone, 
 " Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." 
 The train from out the castle drew, 1 
 But Marmion st6pp'd to bid adieu : 
 " Though something I might plain," he said, 
 
 1 MS. " The train the portal arch pass'd through."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 269 
 
 " 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. 1 
 
 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. 
 
 Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
 And shook his very frame for ire, 
 
 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, 
 
 1 MS. " Unmeet they be to harbour here."
 
 270 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 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 : 
 Fierce he broke forth, " And darest thou then 
 To beard the lion in his den, 
 
 The Douglas in his hall ? 
 And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? 
 No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
 Up drawbridge, grooms what, Warder, ho ! 
 
 Let the portcullis fall." z 
 
 1 MS. " False Douglas, thou hast lied." 
 
 2 This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is 
 not without its example 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 Bombay, who, hav- 
 ing refused to acknowledge the preeminence claimed by Doug- 
 las over the gentlemen and Barons of Galloway, was seized and 
 imprisoned by the earl, in his castle of the Thrieve, on the 
 borders of Kirkcudbrightshire. Sir Patrick Gray, commander 
 of King James the Second's guard, was uncle to the Tutor of 
 Bombay, and obtained from the king a " sweet letter of suppli- 
 cation," praying the earl to deliver his prisoner into Gray's 
 hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle, he was received 
 with all the honour due to a favourite servant of the king's 
 household ; but while he was at dinner, the earl, who sus-
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 271 
 
 Lord Marmion turn'd, well was his need. 
 And dash'd the rowels in his steed, 
 Like arrow through the archway sprung, 
 The ponderous grate behind him rung : 
 To pass there was such scanty room, 
 The bars, descending, rased his plume. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The steed along the drawbridge flies, 
 Just as it trembled on the rise ; 
 Nor lighter does the swallow skim 
 Along the smooth lake's level brim : 
 And when Lord Marmion reach'd his band, 
 He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 
 And shout of loud defiance pours, 
 
 pected his errand, caused his prisoner to be led forth and be- 
 headed. After dinner, Sir Patrick 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 showed him the 
 manner, and said, ' Sir Patrick, you are come a little too late ; 
 yonder is your sister's son lying, but he wants 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, ' My 
 lord, if I 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 led horse was so tried and good, he had been 
 taken." Pitscottie's History, p. 39.
 
 272 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 
 " Horse ! horse ! " the Douglas cried, " and chase ! n 
 
 But soon he rein'd 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 ! 1 
 
 At first in heart it liked me ill, 
 
 When the King praised his clerkly skill 
 
 Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, 2 
 
 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." 
 
 1 Lest the reader should partake of the earl's astonishment, 
 and consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of the 
 period, I have to remind him of the numerous forgeries (partly 
 executed by a female assistant) devised by Kobert of Artois, to 
 forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being 
 detected, occasioned his flight into England, and proved the 
 remote cause of Edward the Third's memorable wars in France. 
 John Harding, also, was expressly hired by Edward IV. to 
 forge such documents as might appear to establish the claim of 
 fealty asserted over Scotland by the English monarchs. 
 
 *M8. " Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine 
 Could never pen a written line, 
 So swear I, and I swear it still, 
 Let brother Gawain fret his fill."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 273 
 
 With this his mandate he recalls, 
 And slowly seeks his castle halls. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The day in Marmion's journey wore ; 
 
 Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er, 
 
 They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor. 
 
 His troop more closely there he scann'd, 
 
 And miss'd the Palmer from the band. 
 u Palmer or not," young Blount did say, 
 " He parted at the peep of day ; 
 
 Good sooth, it was in strange array." 
 " In what array ? " said Marmion, quick. 
 " My Lord, I ill can spell the trick ; 
 
 But all night long, with clink and bang, 
 
 Close to my couch did hammers clang ; 
 
 At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, 
 
 And from a loophole while I peep, 
 
 Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep, 
 
 Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair, 
 
 As fearful of the morning air ; 
 
 Beneath, when that was blown aside, 
 
 A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 
 
 By Archibald won in bloody work, 
 
 Against the Saracen and Turk : 
 
 Last night it hung not in the hall ; 
 
 I thought some marvel would befall 
 
 And next I saw them saddled lead 
 
 Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed ; 
 
 A matchless horse, though something old, 
 
 Prompt in his paces, cool and bold.
 
 274 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 I heard the Sheriff Sholto say, 
 
 The Earl did much the Master 1 pray 
 
 To use him on the battle-day ; 
 
 But he preferr'd " " Nay, Henry, cease ! 
 
 Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace. 
 
 Eustace, thou bear'st a brain I pray, 
 
 What did Blount see at break of day ? " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " In brief, my lord, we both descried 
 (For then I stood by Henry's side) 
 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 wish'd him speed." 
 The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, 
 A sudden light on Marmion broke ; 
 " Ah ! dastard fool, to reason lost ! " 
 He mutter'd ; " 'Twas nor fay nor ghost 
 I met upon the moonlight wold, 
 But living man of earthly mould. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 1 His eldest son, the Master of Angus.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 275 
 
 'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow. 
 Will Surrey dare to entertain, 
 'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain ? 
 
 Small risk of that, I trow. 
 Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun ; 
 Must separate Constance from the Nun 
 O, what a tangled web we weave, 
 When first we practise to deceive ! 
 A Palmer too ! no wonder why 
 I felt rebuked beneath his eye : 
 I might have known there was but one, 
 Whose look could quell Lord Marmion." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed 
 His troop, and reach'd, at eve, the Tweed, 
 Where Lennel's convent 1 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 Bernardino brood, 
 That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) 
 Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 
 
 1 This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost en- 
 tirely demolished. Lennel House is now the residence of my 
 venerable friend, Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known in 
 the literary world. 2 It is situated near Coldstream, almost 
 opposite to Cornhill, and consequently very near to Flodden 
 Field. 
 
 First Edition. Mr. Brydone h as b een many years dead. 1825.
 
 276 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Give Marmion entertainment fair, 
 And lodging for Ms train and Clare. 1 
 Next morn the Baron climb'd the tower, 
 To view afar the Scottish power, 
 
 Encamp'd on Flodden edge : 
 The white pavilions made a show, 
 Like remnants of the winter snow, 
 
 Along the dusky ridge. 
 Long Marmion look'd : 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 sunbeam 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 watch'd the motions of some foe, 
 Who traversed on the plain below. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Even so it was. From Flodden ridge 
 The Scots beheld the English host 
 Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, 
 And heedful watch'd them as they cross'd 
 
 1 From this period to the conclusion of the poem, Mr. 
 Scott's genius, so long overclouded, bursts forth in full lustre, 
 and even transcends itself. It is impossible to do him justice 
 by making extracts, when all is equally attractive. Monthly 
 Review.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 277 
 
 The Till by Twisel Bridge. 1 
 
 High sight it is, and haughty, while 
 
 They dive into the deep defile ; 
 
 Beneath the cavern'd cliff they fall, 
 
 Beneath the castle's airy walL 
 By rock, hy oak, by hawthorn-tree, 
 
 Troop after troop are disappearing ; 
 
 1 On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flod- 
 den, Surrey's headquarters were at Bannoor Wood, and King 
 James held an inaccessible position on the ridge of Flodden- 
 hill, one of the last and lowest eminences detached 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 northwesterly direction, and crossed 
 the Till, with his van and artillery, at Twisel-bridge, nigh 
 where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-guard column pass- 
 ing about a mile higher, by a ford. This movement had the 
 double effect of placing his army between King James and his 
 supplies from Scotland, and of striking the Scottish monarch 
 with surprise, as he seems to have relied on the depth of the 
 river in his front. But as the passage, both over the bridge and 
 through the ford, was difficult and slow, it seems possible that 
 the English might have been attacked to great advantage while 
 struggling with these 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 crossed 
 the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile 
 of Gothic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, 
 Bart., whose extensive plantations have so much improved the 
 country around. The glen is romantic and delightful, with 
 steep banks on each side, covered with copse, particularly with 
 hawthorn. Beneath a tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful 
 fountain, called St. Helen's Well.
 
 2jB MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 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, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, 
 And pressing on, in ceaseless march, 
 
 To gain the opposing hilL 
 That morn, to many a trumpet clang, 
 Twisel ! thy rock's deep echo rang ; 
 And many a chief of birth and rank, 
 Saint Helen ! at thy fountain drank. 
 Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 
 In springtide bloom so lavishly, 
 Had then from many an axe its doom, 
 To give the marching columns room. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And why stands Scotland idly now, 
 Dark Flodden ! on thy airy brow, 
 Since England gains the pass the while, 
 And struggles through the deep defile ? 
 What checks the fiery soul of James ? 
 Why sits that champion of the dames 
 
 Inactive on his steed, 
 And sees, between him and his land, 
 Between him and Tweed's southern strand, 
 
 His host Lord Surrey lead ? 
 What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand ?
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 279 
 
 0, Douglas, for thy leading wand ! 
 Fierce Bandolph, for thy speed ! 
 
 for one hour of Wallace wight, 
 
 Or well-skill'd 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 Bannockbourne ! 
 The precious hour has pass'd in vain, 
 And England's host has gain'd the plain ; 
 Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
 Around the base of Flodden hilL 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, l 
 Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, 
 " Hark ! hark ! my lord, an English drum ! 
 And see ascending squadrons come 
 
 Between Tweed's river and the hill, 
 Foot, horse, and cannon : hap what hap, 
 My basnet to a prentice cap, 
 
 Lord Surrey's o'er the Till ! 
 Yet more ! yet more ! how far array'd 1 
 They file from out the hawthorn shade, 
 
 And sweep so gallant by ! 2 
 With all their banners bravely spread, 
 
 And all their armour flashing high, 
 Saint George might waken from the dead, 
 
 To see fair England's standards fly." 
 
 1 MS. " Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye.'* 
 3 MS. " And all go sweeping by."
 
 280 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 " Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount, " thou'dst best, 
 And listen to our lord's behest." l 
 With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, 
 
 " This instant be our band array'd ; 
 The river must be quickly cross'd, 
 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." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 flimself 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 mutter'd as the flood they view, 
 
 lr The speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal too un- 
 polished for a noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On two 
 occasions, to specify no more, he addresses his brother squire 
 in these cacophonous lines : 
 
 " St. Anton fire thee I wilt thou stand 
 All day with bonnet in thy hand ; " 
 And 
 
 " ' Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, ' thou'dst be&, 
 And listen to our lord's behest.' " 
 
 Neither can we be brought to admire the simple dignity of Sir 
 Hugh the Heron, who thus encourageth his nephew : 
 
 " ' By my fay, 
 
 Well hast thou spoke say forth thy say.' " 
 
 Jeffrey.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 281 
 
 " 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 Leafs eddies creep, 1 
 
 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, 
 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 unharm'd, should sharply ring. 
 A moment then Lord Marmion staid, 
 And breathed his steed, his men array'd, 
 
 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. 
 
 1 MS. " Where to the Tweed Leafs tributes creep."
 
 282 MARMION. Canto VL. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Hence might they see the full array 
 
 Of either host, for deadly fray ; 1 
 
 Their marshall'd lines stretch'd east and west, 2 
 
 And fronted north and south, 
 And distant salutation pass'd 
 
 From the loud cannon mouth ; 
 Not in the close successive rattle, 
 That breathes the voice of modern battle, 
 
 But slow and far between. 
 The hillock gain'd, Lord Marmion staid : 
 " Here, by this Cross," he gently said, 
 " You well may view the scene. 
 Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare : 
 Oh ! 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 pick'd 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." 
 He waited not for answer there, 
 And would not mark the maid's despair, 8 
 
 1 See Appendix, Note Q. 
 
 2 MS. " Their lines were formed, stretch'd east and west." 
 
 8 MS. " Nor mark'd the lady's deep despair, 
 Nor heeded discontented look."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 283 
 
 Nor heed the discontented look 
 From either squire ; but spurr'd amain, 
 And, dashing through the battle-plain, 
 
 His way to Surrey took. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " 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 fronts their right, 
 My sons command the vaward post, 
 
 With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight ; 1 
 
 Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, 
 
 Shall be in rear- ward of the fight, 
 And succour those that need it most. 
 
 Now, gallant Marmion, well I know, 
 
 Would gladly to the vanguard go ; 
 Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, 
 With thee their charge will blithely share ; 
 There fight thine own retainers too, 
 
 1 Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the 
 time Tunstall the Undented, was one of the few Englishmen of 
 rank slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, 
 to which I may safely refer my readers ; as an edition, with 
 full explanatory notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. 
 Henry Weber. Tunstall, perhaps, derived his epithet of unde- 
 filed from his white armour and banner, the latter bearing a 
 white cock, about to crow, as well as from his unstained loy- 
 alty and knightly faith. His place of residence was Thurland 
 Castle.
 
 284 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Beneath De Burg, thy steward true." 1 
 "Thanks, noble Surrey ! " Marmion said, 
 Nor farther greeting there he paid ; 
 But, parting like a thunderbolt, 
 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. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still 
 With Lady Clare upon the hill ; 
 On which, (for far the day was spent,) 
 The western sunbeams now were bent. 
 The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 
 Could plain their distant comrades view : 
 Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 
 " Unworthy office here to stay ! 
 No hope of gilded spurs to-day. 
 But see ! look up on Flodden bent 
 The Scottish foe has fired his tent." 
 
 And sudden, as he spoke, 
 From the sharp ridges of the hill, 2 
 All downward to the banks of Till, 
 
 Was wreathed in sable smoke. 
 
 1 MS. "Beneath thy seneschal, Fitz-Hugh." 
 
 2 Of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from 
 the days of Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in 
 our opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation, 
 for breadth of drawing and magnificence of effect, with this 
 of Mr. Scott's. Jeffrey.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 285 
 
 Volumed and fast, 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 coma 
 Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, 
 Until at weapon-point they close. 1 
 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 ; 2 
 O life and death were in the shout, 
 Eecoil and rally, charge and rout, 
 
 And triumph and despair. 
 Long look'd the anxious squires ; their eye 
 Could in the darkness nought descry. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 At length the freshening western blast 
 
 Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
 
 And, first, the ridge of mingled spears 8 
 
 1 This couplet is not in the MS. 
 
 8 The next three lines are not in the MS. 
 
 8 JtfS. " And first the broken ridge of spears."
 
 286 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Above the brightening cloud appears ; 
 And in the smoke the pennons flew, 
 As in the storm the white sea-mew. 
 Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far, 
 The broken billows of the war, 
 And plumed crests of chieftains brave, 
 Floating like foam upon the wave ; 
 
 But naught distinct they see : 
 Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
 Spears shook, and falchions flash'd amain ; 
 Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ; 
 Crests rose, and stoop'd, 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 Badenoch-man, 1 
 And many a rugged Border clan, 
 
 With Huntley, and with Home. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Far on the left, unseen the while, 
 Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; 
 
 1 In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the 
 correction of the author's interleaved copy of the edition of 
 1830.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 287 
 
 Though there the western mountaineer 1 
 Eush'd with bare bosom on the spear, 
 And flung the feeble targe aside, 
 And with both hands the broadsword plied. 
 'Twas vain : But fortune, on the right, 
 With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight. 
 Then fell that spotless banner white, 2 
 
 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 waver'd 'mid the foes. 
 No longer Blount the view could bear : 
 " By Heaven, and all its saints ! I swear 
 
 I will not see it lost ! 
 Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare 8 
 May bid your beads, and patter prayer, 
 
 I gallop to the host." 
 And to the fray he rode amain, 
 
 1 MS. " Though there the dauntless mountaineer." 
 
 a MS. " Fell stainless TunstalVs banner white, 
 Sir Edmund's lion fell." 
 
 8 MS. " Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare 
 May for its safety join in prayer."
 
 288 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Follow'd by all the archer train. 
 
 The fiery youth, with desperate charge, 
 
 Made, for a space, an opening large, 
 
 The rescued banner rose, 
 But darkly closed the war around, 
 Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, 1 
 
 It sunk among the foes. 
 Then Eustace mounted too : yet staid, 
 As loath to leave the helpless maid, 
 
 When, fast as shaft can fly, 
 Bloodshot his eyes, his nostrils spread, 
 The loose rein dangling from his head, 
 Housing and saddle bloody red, 
 
 Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by ; 
 And Eustace, maddening at the sight, 
 
 A look and sign to Clara cast, 
 
 To mark he would return in haste, 2 
 Then plunged into the fight. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 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 scatter'd van of England wheels; 3 
 
 1 MS. " Like pine uprooted from the ground." 
 3 MS. And cried he would return in haste. 
 
 MS. " Repulsed the band 7 . 
 
 ,, . > of England wheels." 
 
 The scatter'd wing >
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 289 
 
 She only said, as loud in air 
 
 The tumult roar'd, " Is Wilton there ? " 
 
 They fly, or, madden'd by despair, 
 
 Fight but to die, " Is Wilton there ? " 
 With that, straight up the hill there rode 
 
 Two horsemen drench'd with gore, 
 And in their arms, a helpless load, 
 
 A wounded knight they bore. 
 His hand still strain'd the broken brand ; 
 His arms were smear'd with blood and sand : 
 Dragg'd from among the horses' feet, 
 With dinted shield, and helmet beat, 
 The falcon-crest and plumage gone, 
 Can that be haughty Marmion ! . . . l 
 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 ! " 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 When, doffd his casque, he felt free air, 2 
 Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare : 
 " Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where ? 
 Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 
 
 1 MS. " Can that be \ prO1J } Lord Mannion 1 " 
 t brave > 
 
 3 MS. " And when he felt the fresher air." 
 
 19
 
 290 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Eedeem my pennon, charge again ! 
 Cry ' Marmion to the rescue ! ' Vain ! 
 Last of my race, on battle-plain 
 That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! 
 Yet my last thought is England's fly, 1 
 
 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, 2 
 
 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 murmur'd, " Is there none, 
 
 Of all my halls have nurst, 
 Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
 Of blessed water from the spring, 
 
 To slake my dying thirst ! " 
 
 1 MS. " Yet my last thought's for England hie, 
 To Dacre give my signet-ring. . . . 
 Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey fly." 
 
 3 MS. "Full on King James' central host."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 291 
 
 XXX. 
 
 O, Woman ! in our hours of ease, 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
 And variable as the shade 
 By the light quivering aspen made ; 
 When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou ! 
 Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
 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. 1 
 She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 2 
 
 1 The hero of the piece, Marmion, who has been guilty 
 of seducing a nun, and abandoning her to be buried alive, of 
 forgery to ruin a friend, and of perfidy in endeavouring to 
 seduce away from him the object of his tenderest affections, 
 fights and dies gloriously, and is indebted to the injured Clara 
 for the last drop of water to cool his dying thirst. This last 
 act of disinterested attention extorts from the author the 
 smoothest, sweetest, and tenderest lines in the whole poem. It 
 is with pleasure that we extract numbers so harmonious from 
 the discords by which they are surrounded. Critical Beview. 
 2 MS. " She stoop'd her by the runnel's tide, 
 But in abhorrence soon withdrew, 
 For, oozing from the mountains wide 
 Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 
 Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
 Where shall she turn ! behold, she marks 
 
 A little vaulted cell, 
 Whose water, clear as diamond sparks, 
 
 In a rude basin fell. 
 Above, some half-worn letters say, 
 Drink, passing pilgrim, drink, and pray."
 
 292 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
 For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
 Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 
 
 Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
 Where shall she turn ! behold her mark 
 
 A little fountain cell, 
 Where water, clear as diamond-spark, 
 
 In a stone basin fell. 
 Above, some half-worn letters say, 
 SJrinfe. inearg. pilgrim, fcrink. anto. prag. 
 jFor. tfje. feint), goal. at. Sjjbil. (Sag. 
 
 SJHfja. 6uilt. tijfe. 0:020. ant. toell. 
 She fill'd the helm, and back she hied, 
 And with surprise and joy espied 
 
 A Monk supporting Marmion's head ; 
 A pious man, whom duty brought 
 To dubious verge of battle fought, 
 
 To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 
 And, as she stoop'd his brow to lave 
 " 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 !
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 293 
 
 In vain for Constance is your zeal ; 
 
 She - - died at Holy Isle." - 
 Lord Marmion started from the ground, 
 As light as if he felt no wound ; 
 Though in the action burst the tide, 
 In torrents, from his wounded side. 
 Then it was truth," he said "I knew 
 That the dark presage must be true. 
 I would the Fiend, to whom belongs 
 The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 
 
 Would spare me but a day ! 
 For wasting fire, and dying groan, 1 
 And priests slain on the altar stone, 
 
 Might bribe him for delay. 
 It may not be ! this dizzy trance 
 Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
 And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
 A sinful heart makes feeble hand." 
 Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, 
 Supported by the trembling Monk. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 With fruitless labour, Clara bound, 
 And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 
 The Monk, with unavailing cares, 
 Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 
 
 1 MS. " Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan, 
 
 And priests gorged on the altar stone, 
 Might bribe him for delay, 
 And all by whom the deed was done, 
 Should with thyself become his own, 
 It may not be "
 
 294 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 Ever, he said, that, close and near, 
 
 A lady's voice was in his ear, 
 
 And that the priest he could not hear ; 
 
 For that she ever sung, 
 " In the lost battle, borne down ~by the flying, 
 Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the 
 dying ! " 
 
 So the notes rung ; 
 " Avoid thee, Fiend ! with cruel hand, 
 Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! 
 O, look, my son, upon yon sign * 
 Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 
 
 O, think on faith and bliss ! 
 By many a death-bed I have been, 
 And many a sinner's parting seen, 
 
 But never aught like this." 
 The war, that for a space did fail, 
 Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 
 
 And Stanley ! was the cry ; 
 A light on Marmion's visage spread, 
 
 And fired his glazing eye : 2 
 With dying hand, above his head, 
 He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted " Victory ! 
 
 1 MS. " O, look, my son, upon this cross, 
 O, think upon the grace divine, 
 
 On saints and heavenly bliss ! 
 By many a sinner's bed I've been, 
 And many a dismal parting seen, 
 But never aught like this." 
 
 3 .MS. " And sparkled in his eye."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 295 
 
 Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! w 
 Were the last words of Marmion. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 By this, though deep the evening fell, 
 Still rose the battle's deadly swell, 
 For still the Scots, around their King, 
 Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. 
 Where's now their victor 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 Eowland brave, and Olivier, 
 And every paladin and peer, 
 
 On Eoncesvalles died ! 
 Such blast might warn them, not in vain, 
 To quit the plunder of the slain, 
 And turn the doubtful day again, 
 
 While yet on Flodden side, 
 Afar, the Eoyal Standard flies, 
 And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies, 
 
 Our Caledonian pride ! 
 In vain the wish for far away, 
 While spoil and havoc mark their way, 
 Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray. 
 O, Lady," cried the Monk, " away ! " 1 
 
 And placed her on her steed, 
 
 1 MS. "In vain the wish for far they stray, 
 
 And spoil and havoc marked their way. 
 ' 0, Lady, 1 cried the Monk, ' away ! ' "
 
 296 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 And led her to the chapel fair, 
 
 Of Tilmouth upon Tweed. 
 There all the night they spent in prayer, 
 And at the dawn of morning, there 
 She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But as they left the dark'ning heath, 1 
 More desperate grew the strife of death. 
 The English shafts in volleys hail'd, 
 In headlong charge their horse assail'd ; 
 Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep 
 To break the Scottish circle deep, 
 
 That fought around their King. 
 But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, 
 Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, 
 Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, 
 
 Unbroken was the ring ; 
 The stubborn spear-men still made good 2 
 
 1 MS. " But still upon the darkening heath." 
 
 2 MS. " Ever the stubborn spears made good 
 
 Their dark impenetrable wood ; 
 
 Each Scot stepp'd where his comrade stood, 
 
 The instant that he fell, 
 Till the last ray of parting light, 
 Then ceased perforce the dreadful fight, 
 
 And sunk the battle's yell. 
 The skilful Surrey's sage commands 
 Drew from the strife his shatter 'd bands. 
 
 Their loss his foemen knew ; 
 Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low, 
 They melted from the field as snow,
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 297 
 
 Their dark impenetrable wood, 
 
 Each stepping where his comrade stood, 
 
 The instant that he fell 
 No thought was there of dastard flight ; 
 Link'd in the serried phalanx tight, 
 Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, 
 
 As fearlessly and well ; 
 Till utter darkness closed her wing 
 O'er then- 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, 
 Disorder'd, through her currents dash, 
 
 To gain the Scottish land ; 
 To town and tower, to down and dale, 
 
 When streams are swoln and south winds blow, 
 
 Melts from the mountain blue. 
 By various march their scatter'd bands, 
 Disorder'd, gain'd the Scottish lands. 
 Day dawns on Flodden's dreary side, 
 And show'd the scene of carnage wide : 
 There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride ! "
 
 298 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, 
 And raise the universal wail. 1 
 Tradition, legend, tune, and song, 
 Shall many an age that wail prolong : 
 Still from the sire the son shall hear 
 Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, 
 
 Of Flodden's fatal field, 
 Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, 
 
 And broken was her shield ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Day dawns upon the mountain's side : 2 
 There, Scotland ! lay thy bravest pride, 
 Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one : 
 The sad survivors all are gone. 
 View not that corpse mistrustfully, 
 
 lr rhe powerful poetry of these passages can receive no 
 illustration from any praises or observations of ours. It is 
 superior, in our apprehension, to all that this author has 
 hitherto produced ; and, with a few faults of diction, equal 
 to anything that has ever been written upon similar subjects. 
 From the moment the author gets in sight of Flodden field, 
 indeed, to the end of the poem, there is no tame writing, and 
 no intervention of ordinary passages. He does not once flag 
 or grow tedious ; and neither stops to describe dresses and 
 ceremonies, nor to commemorate the harsh names of feudal 
 barons from the Border. There is a flight of five or six hun- 
 dred lines, in short, in which he never stoops his wing, nor 
 wavers in his course ; but carries the reader forward with a 
 more rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than any epic bard 
 that we can at present remember. Jeffrey. 
 
 a " Day glimmers on the dying and the dead, 
 
 The cloven cuirass, and the helmless head," etc. 
 
 Byron's Lara.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 299 
 
 Defaced and mangled though it be ; 
 
 Nor to yon Border castle high, 
 
 Look northward with upbraiding eye ; 
 
 Nor cherish hope in vain, 
 That, journeying far on foreign strand, 
 The Koyal Pilgrim to his land 
 
 May yet return again. 
 He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ; 
 Eeckless of life, he desperate fought, 
 
 And fell on Flodden plain : 
 And well in death his trusty brand, 
 Firm clench'd within his manly hand, 
 Beseem'd the monarch slain. 1 
 
 1 There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of 
 Flodden. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette, 
 within a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey ; and the same 
 account adds that none of his division were made prisoners, 
 though many were killed, a circumstance that testifies the des- 
 peration of their resistance. The Scottish historians record 
 many of the idle reports which passed among the vulgar of 
 their day. Home was accused, by the popular 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 unauthenticated 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 parish having said that, if the well were 
 cleaned out, he would not be surprised at such a discovery. 
 Home was the chamberlain of the king, and his prime favour- 
 ite ; 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, which he com- 
 manded, after defeating Sir Edmund Howard, and even the 
 circumstance of his returning unhurt, and loaded with spoil,
 
 300 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 But, O ! how changed since yon blithe night ! 
 Gladly I turn me from the sight, 
 Unto my tale again. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Short is my tale : Fitz-Eustace' care 
 A pierced and mangled body bare 
 To moated Lichfield's lofty pile ; 
 And there, beneath the southern aisle, 
 A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, 
 Did long Lord Marmion's image bear, 
 (Now vainly for its sight you look ; 
 'Twas levell'd, when fanatic Brook 
 The fair cathedral storm'd and took ; l 
 
 from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propagation of any cal- 
 umny 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, he was likely 
 enough to have laid aside on the day of battle, as encumbering 
 his personal exertions. They produce a better evidence, the 
 monarch's sword and dagger, which are still preserved in the 
 Herald's College in London. Stowe has recorded a degrading 
 story of the disgrace with which the remains of the unfortunate 
 monarch were treated in his time. An unhewn column marks 
 the spot where James fell, still called the King's Stone. 
 
 !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 vizor 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,
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 301 
 
 But, thanks to heaven, and good Saint Chad, 
 A guerdon meet the spoiler had !) 
 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 priest for Marmion breathed the prayer, 
 The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
 From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
 Follow'd his lord to Flodden plain, 
 One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
 In Scotland mourns as " wede away : " 
 Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, 
 And dragg'd him to its foot, and died, 
 Close by the noble Marmion's side. 
 The spoilers stripp'd and gash'd the slain, 
 And thus their corpses were mista'en ; 
 And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, 
 The lowly woodsman took the room. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Less easy task it were, to show 
 
 Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low. 1 
 
 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 question suffered cruelly 
 upon this, and other occasions, the principal spire being ruined 
 by the fire of the besiegers. 
 
 J A corpse is afterward conveyed, as that of Marmion, to
 
 302 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 1 
 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 2 
 Oozes the slender springlet still. 
 
 Oft halts the stranger there, 
 For thence may best his curious eye 
 The memorable field descry ; 
 
 And shepherd boys repair 
 To seek the water-flag and rush, 
 And rest them by the hazel bush, 
 
 And plait their garlands fair ; 
 Nor dream they sit upon the grave, 
 That holds the bones of Marmion brave. 
 When thou shalt find the little hill, 3 
 With thy heart commune, and be still 
 If ever, in temptation strong, 
 Thou lef t'st the right path for the wrong ; 
 If every devious step, thus trod, 
 
 the Cathedral of Lichfield, where a magnificent tomb is erected 
 to his memory, and masses are instituted for the repose of his 
 soul ; but, by an admirably imagined act of poetical justice, we 
 are informed that a peasant's body was placed beneath that 
 costly monument, while the haughty baron himself was buried 
 like a vulgar corpse, on the spot on which he died. Monthly 
 Review. 
 
 1 MS. " They dug his bed e'en where he lay." 
 
 2 MS. " But yet where swells the little hill." 
 
 8 M8. " If thou should' st find this little tomb, 
 Beware to speak a hasty doom."
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 303 
 
 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." 
 
 XXXVIIL 
 
 I do not rhyme to that dull elf, 
 
 Who cannot image to himself, 
 
 That all through Flodden's dismal night, 
 
 Wilton was foremost in the fight ; 
 
 That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, 
 
 'Twas Wilton mounted him again ; 
 
 Twas Wilton's brand that deepest heVd, 1 
 
 Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood : 
 
 Unnamed by Holinshed or Hall, 
 
 He was the living soul of all ; 
 
 That, after fight, his faith made plain, 
 
 He won his rank and lands again ; 
 
 And charged his old paternal shield 
 
 With bearings won on Flodden Field. 
 
 Nor sing I to that simple maid, 
 
 To whom it must in terms be said, 
 
 That King and kinsmen did agree, 
 
 To bless fair Clara's constancy ; 
 
 Who cannot, unless I relate, 
 
 Paint to her mind the bridal's state ; 
 
 That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke, 
 
 More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke : 
 
 1 MS. "He hardest press'd the Scottish ring ; 
 
 'Twas thought that he struck down the King."
 
 304 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 ! " 
 
 L'ENVOY. 
 To the Reader. 
 
 WHY then a final note prolong, 
 
 Or lengthen out a closing song, 
 
 Unless to bid the gentles speed, 
 
 Who long have listed to my rede ? J 
 
 To Statesmen grave, if such may deign 
 
 To read the Minstrel's idle strain, 
 
 Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, 
 
 And patriotic heart as Pitt ! 
 
 A garland for the hero's crest, 
 
 And twined by her he loves the best ; 
 
 To every lovely lady bright, 
 
 What can I wish but faithful knight ? 
 
 To every faithful lover too, 
 
 What can I wish but lady true ? 
 
 And knowledge to the studious sage ; 
 
 And pillow to the head of age. 
 
 To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay 
 
 1 Used generally for tale, or discourse.
 
 Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 305 
 
 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 ! 1 
 
 1 We have dwelt longer on the beauties and defects of this 
 poem than, we are afraid, will be agreeable either to the partial 
 or the indifferent ; not only because we look upon it as a mis- 
 application, in some degree, of very extraordinary talents, but 
 because we cannot help considering it as the foundation of a 
 new school, which may hereafter occasion no little annoyance 
 both to us and to the public. Mr. Scott has hitherto filled the 
 whole stage himself ; and the very splendour of his success has 
 probably operated as yet, rather to deter, than to encourage, 
 the herd of rivals and imitators ; but if, by the help of the good 
 parts of his poem, he succeeds in suborning the verdict of the 
 public in favour of the bad parts also, and establishes an indis- 
 criminate taste for chivalrous legends and romances in irregular 
 rhyme, he may depend upon having as many copyists as Mrs. 
 Radcliffe, or Schiller, and upon becoming the founder of a new 
 schism in the catholic poetical church, for which, in spite of 
 all our exertions, there will probably be no cure, but in the 
 extravagance of the last and lowest of its followers. It is for 
 this reason that we conceive it to be our duty to make one strong 
 effort to bring back the great apostle of the heresy to the whole- 
 some creed of his instructors, and to stop the insurrection 
 before it becomes desperate and senseless, by persuading the 
 leader to return to his duty and allegiance. We admire Mr. 
 Scott's genius as much as any of those who may be misled by 
 its perversion ; and, like the curate and the barber in Don 
 Quixote, lament the day when a gentleman of such endowments 
 was corrupted by the wicked tales of knight-errantry and en- 
 chantment. Jeffrey. 
 
 We do not flatter ourselves that Mr. Scott will pay to our 
 advice that attention which he has refused to his acute friend, 
 Mr. Erskine ; but it is possible that his own good sense may in 
 tune persuade him not to abandon his loved fairy ground (a 
 province over which we wish him a long and prosperous govern- 
 so
 
 306 MARMION. Canto VI. 
 
 ment), but to combine the charms of lawful poetry with those 
 of wild and romantic fiction. As the first step to this desirable 
 end, we would beg him to reflect that his Gothic models will 
 not bear him out in transferring the loose and shuffling ballad 
 metre to a poem of considerable length, and of complicated 
 interest like the present. It is a very easy thing to write five 
 hundred ballad verses, stans pede in uno : but Mr. Scott needs 
 not to be told that five hundred verses written on one foot 
 have a very poor chance for immortality. Monthly Review.
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 TO 
 
 MAKMION
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 NOTE A. 
 
 As when the Champion of the Lake 
 
 Enters Morgana' s fated house, 
 
 Or in the Chapel Perilous, 
 
 Despising spells and demons' 1 force, 
 
 Holds converse with the unburied corse. p. 12. 
 
 THE Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of 
 abridgement of the most celebrated adventures of the Round 
 Table ; and, being written in comparatively modern language, 
 gives the general reader an excellent idea of what romances of 
 chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of being written 
 in pure old English ; and many of the wild adventures which 
 it contains are told with a simplicity bordering upon the sub- 
 lime. Several of these are referred to in the text ; and I would 
 have illustrated them by more full extracts, but as this curious 
 work is about to be republished, I confine myself to the tale of 
 the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after 
 the Sangreal. 
 
 " Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came to 
 the Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to 
 a little gate. And as soon as he was within the churchyard, 
 he saw, on the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields 
 turned upside downe ; and many of the shields Sir Launcelot 
 had scene knights have before ; with that he saw stand by him 
 thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever 
 he had seene, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launce- 
 lot ; and when he saw their countenance, hee dread them sore, 
 and so put his shield afore him, and tooke his sword in his 
 
 3<>9
 
 3io APPENDIX TO 
 
 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 scat- 
 tered on every side of him, and gave him the way ; and there- 
 with he waxed all bold, and entered 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 Launce- 
 lot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloath away, and 
 then it fared under him as the earth had quaked a little, 
 whereof he was afeared, and then hee saw a faire sword lye by 
 the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied him out 
 of the chappell. As soon as he was in the chappell-yerd, all 
 the knights spoke to him with a grimly voice, and said, 
 'Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else 
 thou shalt die.' ' Whether I live or die,' said Sir Launcelot, 
 'with no great words get yee it againe, therefore fight for it 
 and yee list.' Therewith he passed through them ; and, be- 
 yond the chappell-yerd, there met him a faire damosell, and 
 said, ' Sir Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou 
 wilt die for it.' 'I will not leave it,' said Sir Launcelot, ' for 
 no threats.' ' No ? ' said she ; ' and ye did leave that sword, 
 Queen Guenever should ye never see.' ' Then were I a foole 
 and I would leave this sword,' said Sir Launcelot. 'Now, 
 gentle knight,' said the damosell, 'I require thee to kisse me 
 once.' 'Nay,' said Sir Launcelot, 'that God forbid!' 
 'Well, sir,' said she, 'and thou haddest kissed me thy life 
 dayes had been done ; but now, alas ! ' said she, ' I have lost 
 all my labour ; for I ordeined this chappell for thy sake, and 
 for Sir Gawaine : and once I had Sir Gawaine within it ; and 
 at that time he fought with that knight which there lieth dead 
 in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert the 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 rejoyice 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 in my life daies, and daily I should have 
 clipped thee, and kissed thee, in the despite of Queen Guen- 
 ever.' 'Yee say well,' said Sir Launcelot; 'Jesus preserve
 
 MARMION. 311 
 
 me from your snbtill craft.' And therewith he took his 
 horse, and departed from her." 
 
 NOTE B. 
 
 A sinful man, and unconfess'd, 
 
 He took the Sangreal 1 s holy quest, 
 
 And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
 
 He might not view with waking eye. p. 13. 
 
 One day. when Arthur was holding a high feast with his 
 Knights of the Round Table, the Sangreal, or vessel out of 
 which the last passover was eaten (a precious relic, which had 
 long remained concealed from human eyes, because of the sins 
 of the land), suddenly appeared to him and all his chivalry. 
 The consequence of this vision was, that all the knights took 
 on them a solemn vow to seek the Sangreal. But, alas ! it 
 could only be revealed to a knight at once accomplished in 
 earthly chivalry, and pure and guiltless of evil conversation. 
 All Sir Launcelot's noble accomplishments were therefore 
 rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guenever, or 
 Ganore ; and in his holy quest he encountered only such dis- 
 graceful 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 stone that was 
 of marble ; but it was so dark, that Sir Lauucelot might not 
 well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him r 
 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 he 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 f aire altar, full richly arrayed 
 with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candlestick, which 
 beare six great candles, and the candlesticke was of silver. 
 And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great will 
 for to enter into the chappell, but he could find no place where 
 hee might enter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. 
 Then he returned, and came againe to his horse, and tooke off 
 his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture, and unlaced his.
 
 312 APPENDIX TO 
 
 helme, and ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe 
 upon his shield, before the crosse. 
 
 "And so hee fell on sleep; and, halfe waking and halfe 
 sleeping, hee saw come by him two palfreys, both faire and 
 white, the which beare a litter, therein lying a sicke knight. 
 And when he was nigh the crosse, he there abode still. All 
 this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for hee slept not verily, 
 and hee heard him say, ' O sweete Lord, when shall this sorrow 
 leave me, and when shall the holy vessell come by me, where 
 through I shall be blessed, for I have endured thus long for 
 little trespasse ! ' And thus a great while complained the 
 knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir 
 Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire tapers, come 
 before the crosse ; but he could see no body that brought it. 
 Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessell of the 
 Sancgreall, the which Sir Launcelot had seen before that time 
 in King Petchour's house. And therewithall the sicke knight 
 set him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, ' Faire 
 sweete Lord, which is here within the holy vessell, take heede 
 to mee, that I may bee hole of this great malady ! ' And 
 therewith upon his hands, and upon his knees, he went so 
 nigh, that he touched the holy vessell, and kissed it : And 
 anon he was hole, and then he said, ' Lord God, I thank thee, 
 for I am healed of this malady.' Soo when the holy vessell 
 had been there a great while, it went into the chappell againe, 
 with the candlesticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot wist 
 not where it became, for he was overtaken with sinne, that hee 
 had no power to arise against the holy vessell, wherefore after- 
 ward many men said of him shame. But he tooke repentance 
 afterward. Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and 
 kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire brought him his 
 armes, and asked his lord how he did. ' Certainly, ' said hee, 
 ' I thanke God right heartily, for through the holy vessell I am 
 healed : But I have right great mervaile of this sleeping 
 knight, which hath had neither grace nor power to awake 
 during the time that this holy vessell hath beene here present. ' 
 'I dare it right well say,' said the squire, 'that this same 
 knight is defouled with some manner of deadly sinne, whereof 
 he has never confessed.' 'By my faith,' said the knight, 
 ' whatsoever he be, he is unhappie ; for, as I deeme, hee is of
 
 MARMION. 313 
 
 the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entred into 
 the quest of the Sancgreall.' 'Sir,' said the squire, 'here I 
 have brought you all your armes, save your helme and your 
 sword ; and, therefore, by mine assent, now may ye take this 
 knight's helme and his sword ; ' and so he did. And when he 
 was cleane armed, he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was 
 better than his owne, and so they departed from the crosse. 
 
 "Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himself e 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 Launcelot, more hardy than is the stone, and 
 more bitter than is the wood, and more naked and bare than 
 is the liefe of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and 
 withdraw thee from this holy place ; ' and when Sir Launce- 
 lot heard this, he was passing heavy, and wist not what to doe. 
 And so he departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he 
 was borne ; for then he deemed never to have had more wor- 
 ship ; for the words went unto his heart, till that he knew 
 wherefore that hee was so called." 
 
 NOTE C. 
 
 Day set on Norham 1 s castled steep, 
 
 And Tweed" 1 s fair river, broad and deep, etc. p. 19. 
 
 The ruinous castle of Norham (anciently called Ubbanford) 
 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, shows 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 Scotland, and, indeed, 
 scarce any happened, in which it had not a principal share. 
 Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank, which overhangs 
 the river. The repeated sieges which the castle had sustained 
 rendered frequent repairs necessary. In 1164 it was almost 
 rebuilt by Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, who added a 
 huge keep, or donjon ; notwithstanding which, King Henry
 
 3H APPENDIX TO 
 
 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 consid- 
 ered as a royal fortress. The Greys of Chillinghain Castle 
 were frequently the castellans, or captains of the garrison. 
 Yet, as the castle was situated in the patrimony of St. Cuth- 
 bert, the property was in the see of Durham till the Reforma- 
 tion. After that period it passed through various hands. At 
 the union of the crowns, it was in the possession of Sir Robert 
 Carey (afterward Earl of Monmouth), for his own life and 
 that of two of his sons. After King James's accession, Carey 
 sold Norham Castle to George Home, Earl of Dunbar, for 
 6,000. See his curious Memoirs, published by Mr. Consta- 
 ble of Edinburgh. 
 
 According to Mr. Pinkerton, there is, in the British Museum, 
 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 quarters of grain, 
 besides many cows and four hundred sheep, lying under the 
 castle wall nightly ; but a number of the arrows wanted 
 feathers, and a good Fletcher (i. e., maker of arrows) was re- 
 quired." 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, enclosed within 
 an outward wall of great circuit. 
 
 NOTE D. 
 
 They haiVd Lord Marmion : 
 They haWd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
 Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, 
 
 Of Tamworth tower and town. p. 27. 
 
 Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present ro- 
 mance, is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, 
 indeed, the family of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay, in Nor- 
 mandy, was highly distinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord
 
 MARMION. 315 
 
 of Fontenay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror, ob- 
 tained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworth, 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 Mannion had 
 formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. But after the 
 castle and demesne of Tamworth had passed through four suc- 
 cessive barons from Robert, the family became extinct in the 
 person of Philip de Marmion, who died in 20th Edward I. 
 without issue male. He was succeeded in his castle of Tam- 
 worth by Alexander de Freville, who married Mazera, his 
 granddaughter. Baldwin de Freville, Alexander's descend- 
 ant, in the reign of Richard I., 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 corona- 
 tion, to ride, completely armed, upon a barbed 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 Dymoke, to whom the manor of Scrivelby 
 had descended by another of the co-heiresses of Robert de 
 Marmion ; and it remains in that family, whose representative 
 is Hereditary Champion of England at the present day. The 
 family and possessions of Freville 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. 
 
 It was one of the Marmion family, who, in the reign of 
 Edward II., performed that chivalrous feat before the very 
 castle of Norham, which Bishop Percy has woven into his 
 beautiful ballad, "The Hermit of Warkworth." The story is 
 thus told by Lei and : 
 
 "The 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 Nor- 
 ham from the Scottes. 
 
 " It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischefes 
 cam by hungre and asseges by the space of xi yeres in North- 
 umberland ; for the Scottes became so proude after they had 
 got Berwick, that they nothing esteemed the Englishmen. 
 
 " Aboutt his tyme there was a greate feste made yn Lincoln-
 
 3 i6 APPENDIX TO 
 
 shir, to which came many gentlemen and ladies ; and amonge 
 them one lady brought a heaulme for a man of were, with a 
 very riche create of gold, to William Marmion, knight, with 
 a letter of commandement of her lady, 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, within 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, behind whom cam 
 William, richly arrayed, as al glittering in gold, and wearing 
 the heaulme, his lady's present. 
 
 "Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, ' Sir Knight, ye be 
 cum hither to fame your helmet : mount upon yowr 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 alyve, 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 him, and 
 pulled him at the last out of his sadel to the grounde. 
 
 " Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, lette prick 
 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 F. 1 
 
 The scenes are desert now, and bare, 
 Where flourish' 1 d once a forest fair. p. 49. 
 
 Ettrick Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep-walks, 
 was anciently reserved for the pleasure of the royal chase. 
 Since it was disparked, the wood has been, by degrees, almost 
 
 *As the ballad given in the Notes to the former editions of 
 Marmion is to be found in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii., it is 
 thought unnecessary, in this collected edition, to repeat it, as in- 
 tended, under the head of Note E.
 
 MARMIOX. 317 
 
 totally destroyed, although, wherever protected from the sheep, 
 copses soon arise without any planting. When the king 
 hunted there, he often summoned the array of the country to 
 meet and assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James V. "made 
 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 Tiviotdale, Annandale, Liddisdale, and 
 other parts of that country ; and also warned all gentlemen 
 that had good dogs to bring them, that he might hunt in the 
 said country as he pleased : The whilk the Earl of Argyle, 
 the Earl of Huntley, the Earl of Athole, and so all the rest of 
 the gentlemen of the Highland, did, and brought their hounds 
 with them in like manner, to hunt with the king, as he pleased. 
 
 "The second day of June the king past out of Edinburgh 
 to the hunting, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of 
 Scotland with him, to the number of twelve thousand men ; 
 and then past to Meggitland, and hounded and hawked all the 
 country and bounds ; that is to say, Crammat, Pappert-law, 
 St. Mary-laws, Carlavirick, Chapel, Ewindoores, and Long- 
 hope. I heard say he slew, in these bounds, eighteen score of 
 harts." 1 
 
 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 Scotland enumer- 
 ates the services of hunting, hosting, watching, and warding, 
 as those which were in future to be illegal. 
 
 Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in 
 which these huntings were conducted in the Highlands of 
 Scotland in the seventeenth century, having been present at 
 Brsemar upon such an occasion : 
 
 "There did I find the truly noble and right honourable 
 lords, John Erskine, Earl of Mar ; James Stewart, Earl of 
 Murray ; George Gordon, Earl of Engye, son and heir to the 
 Marquis of Huntley ; James Erskine, Earl of Buchan ; and 
 John, Lord Erskine, son and heir to the Earl of Mar, and their 
 countesses, with my much honoured and my last assured and 
 approved friend, Sir William Murray, knight of Abercaxney, 
 
 i Pitacottie's History of Scotland, folio edition, p. 143.
 
 3 i8 APPENDIX TO 
 
 and hundreds 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 
 Highlandmen, who, for the most part, speak nothing but Irish ; 
 and, in former time, were those people which were called the 
 Bed-shanks. Their habit is shoes, with but one sole apiece ; 
 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 wreaths of hay or straw ; with a plaid about their shoulders, 
 which is a mantle of diverse colours, much finer and lighter 
 stuff than then* 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, harquebusses, muskets, 
 durks, and Lochaber axes. With these arms I 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 then- habit, then are they conquered with 
 kindness, and the sport will be plentiful. This was the reason 
 that I found so many noblemen 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 Scot- 
 land when Edward the Confessor, Harold, and Norman 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, which made me doubt that I should never have 
 seen a house again.
 
 MARMION. 319 
 
 "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 com- 
 manded that I should always be lodged in his lodging : the 
 kitchen being always on the side of a bank : many kettles and 
 pots boiling, and many spits turning and winding, with great 
 variety of cheer, as venison baked ; sodden, rost, and stewed 
 beef ; mutton, goats, kid, hares, fresh salmon, pigeons, hens, 
 capons, chickens, partridges, muir-coots, heath-cocks, caper- 
 kellies, and termagants ; good ale, sacke, white and claret, tent 
 (or allegant), with most potent aquavitse. 
 
 "All these, and more than these, we had continually in 
 superfluous abundance, caught by falconers, fowlers, fishers, 
 and brought by my lord's tenants and purveyors to victual our 
 camp, which consisteth of fourteen or fifteen hundred men and 
 horses. The manner of the hunting is this : Five or six hun- 
 dred 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 companies do ride or go to 
 the said places, sometimes wading up to the middles, through 
 burns and rivers ; and then, they being 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, which 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 show 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 hundred couple of strong Irish greyhounds, they 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,
 
 320 APPENDIX TO 
 
 and more than enough left for us, to make merry withall, at 
 our rendezvous." 
 
 NOTE G. 
 
 Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, 
 How to their house three Barons bold 
 Must menial service do. p. 72. 
 
 The popular account of this curious service, which was 
 probably considerably exaggerated, is thus given in A True 
 Account, printed and circulated at Whitby : "In the fifth 
 year of the reign of Henry II., after the conquest of England 
 by William, Duke of Normandy, the Lord of Uglebarnby, 
 then called William de Bruce, the Lord of Smeaton, called 
 Ealph de Percy, with a gentleman and freeholder called 
 Allatson, did, on the 16th of October, 1159, appoint to meet 
 and hunt the wild boar, in a certain wood, or desert place, 
 belonging to the Abbot of Whitby : the place's name was 
 Eskdale-side ; and the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, 
 these young gentlemen being met, with their hounds, and 
 boar-staves, in the place before mentioned, and there having 
 found a great wild boar, the hounds ran him well near aboxit 
 the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale-side, where was a monk 
 of Whitby, who was an hermit. The boar, being very sorely 
 pursued, and dead-run, took in at the chapel door, there laid 
 him down, and presently died. The hermit shut the hounds 
 out of the chapel, and kept himself within at his meditations 
 and prayers, the hounds standing at bay without. The gentle- 
 men, in the thick of the wood, being just behind their game, 
 followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the hermitage, 
 calling on the hermit, who opened the door, and came forth ; 
 and within they found the boar lying dead : for which, the 
 gentlemen, in a very great fury, because the hounds were put 
 from their game, did most violently and cruelly run at the 
 hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he soon after died. 
 Thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and knowing that they 
 were in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough : But at 
 that time the abbot being in very great favour with the king, 
 removed them out of the sanctuary ; whereby they came in 
 danger of the law, and not to be privileged, but likely to have
 
 MARMION. 321 
 
 the severity of the law, which was death for death. But the 
 hermit, being a holy and devout man, and at the point of 
 death, sent for the abbot, and desired him to send for the 
 gentlemen who had wounded him. The abbot so doing, the 
 gentlemen came ; and the hermit, being very sick and weak, 
 said unto them, ' I am sure to die of those wounds you have 
 given me.' The abbot answered, 'They shall as surely die 
 for the same. ' But the hermit answered, ' Not so, for I will 
 freely forgive them my death, if they will be content to be 
 enjoined the penance I shall lay on them for the safeguard of 
 their souls.' The gentlemen being present, bade him save 
 their lives. Then said the hermit, ' You and yours shall hold 
 your lands of the Abbot of Whitby, and his successors, in this 
 manner : That, upon Ascension-day, you, or some of you, 
 shall come to the wood of the Stray-heads, which is in Eskdale- 
 side, the same day at sun-rising, and there shall the abbot's 
 officer blow his horn, to the intent that you may know where 
 to find him ; and he shall deliver unto you, William de Bruce, 
 ten stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yethers, to be cut 
 by you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price : and 
 you, Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be 
 cut in the same manner ; and you, AUatson, 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 yether them on each side with your yethers ; and so- 
 stake on each side with your strout stowers, that they may 
 stand three tides, without removing by the force thereof. 
 Each of you shall do, make, and execute the said service,, 
 at that very hour, every year, except it be full sea at that 
 hour ; but when it shall so fall out, this service shall cease. 
 You shall faithfully do this, in remembrance that you did 
 most cruelly slay me ; and that you may the better call to 
 God for mercy, repent unfeignedly of your sins, and do good 
 works. The officer of Eskdale-side shall blow, Out on you f 
 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 
 
 21
 
 322 APPENDIX TO 
 
 be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or yours, shall forfeit 
 your lands to the Ahbot 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 tuos, Domine, commendo spiritum meum, a 
 vinculis enim mortis redemisti me, Domine veritatis. Amen. 1 
 So he yielded up the ghost the eighth day of December, 
 Anno Domini 1159, whose soul God have mercy upon. Amen. 
 " This service," it is added, " still continues to be performed 
 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 H. 
 
 Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
 The Elfin Warrior doth wield 
 Upon the brown hill's breast. p. 132. 
 
 The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Super- 
 stitions, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. ii., will 
 show 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. Brunsvic, 
 vol. i. p. 797) relates the following popular story concerning a 
 fairy knight: "Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a 
 noble family in the vicinity of Wandlebury, in the bishopric of 
 Ely. Among other stories related in the social circle of his 
 friends, who, according to custom, amused each other by 
 repeating ancient tales and traditions, he was informed, that if 
 any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by moon- 
 light, and challenged an adversary to appear, he would be 
 immediately encountered by a spirit in the form of a knight. 
 Osbert resolved to make the experiment, and set out, attended
 
 MARMION. 323 
 
 by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain without the 
 limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient in- 
 treuchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly as- 
 sailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized 
 the reins of his steed. During this operation, his ghostly oppo- 
 nent 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 accou- 
 trements, and apparently of great beauty and vigour. He 
 remained with his keeper till cock-crowing, when, with eyes 
 flashing fire, he reared, spurned the ground, and vanished. On 
 disarming himself, Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and 
 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. Despising the 
 remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to break 
 a lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks appar- 
 ently in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian over- 
 thrown, horse and man, by his aerial adversary ; and returning 
 to the spot next morning, he found the mangled corpses of the 
 knight and steed." Hierarchy of Blessed Angels, p. 554. 
 
 Besides these instances of Elfin chivalry above quoted, many 
 others might be alleged in support of employing fairy machinery 
 in this manner. The forest of Glenmore, in the North High- 
 lands, is believed to be haunted by a spirit called Lham-dearg 
 in the array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody hand, from 
 which he takes his name. He insists upon those with whom 
 he meets doing battle with him ; and the clergyman, who makes 
 up an account of the district, extant in the Macfarlane MS., in 
 the Advocates' Library, gravely assures us that, in his time, 
 Lham-dearg fought with three brothers whom he met in his 
 walk, none of whom long survived the ghostly conflict. Bar- 
 clay, 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 worse quarters elsewhere. After taking the usual pre-
 
 324 APPENDIX TO 
 
 cautions of providing fires, lights, and arms, they watched till 
 midnight, when behold ! the severed arm of a man dropped 
 from the ceiling ; this was followed by the legs, the other arm, 
 the trunk, and the head of the body, all separately. The mem- 
 bers rolled together, united themselves in the presence of the 
 astonished soldiers, and formed a gigantic warrior, who 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 riot 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 ; which being declined, he was obliged to retreat. 
 
 The most singular tale of the kind is contained in an extract 
 communicated to me by my friend, Mr. Surtees of Mainsforth, 
 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 probably an hun- 
 dred years older, and was said to be, E libra Convent. Dunelm. 
 per T. C. extract., whom I believe to have been Thomas Cra- 
 docke, Esq., barrister, who held several offices under the see 
 of Durham a hundred years ago. Mr. Gill was possessed of 
 most of his manuscripts." The extract, which, in fact, sug- 
 gested the introduction of the tale into the present poem, runs 
 thus : 
 
 " Bern miram hujusmodi quoe nostris temporibus evenit, teste 
 viro nobili acfide dignissimo, enarrare haudpigebit. Eadulphus 
 Bulmer, cum e castris, quce tune temporis prope Norham posita 
 erant, oblectationis causa, exiisset, ac in utteriore Tuedce ripa 
 prasdam cum canibus leporariis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto 
 quodam nobili, sibi antehac, ut videbatur, familiariter cognito, 
 congressus est; ac, ut fas erat inter inimicos, fiagrante bello, 
 brevissimd interrogationis mora interposita, alterutros invicem 
 incitato cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, primo occursu, 
 equo prceacerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terram eversus pectore 
 et capite loeso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomebat. Quern ut
 
 MARMION. 325 
 
 se oegre habentem comiter allocutus est alter, potticitusque, modo 
 auxilium non abnegaret, monitisque obtemperans ab omni rerum 
 sacrarum cogitatione abstineret, nee Deo, Deiparce Virgini, 
 Sanctoce ullo, preces aut vota efferret vel inter sess conciperet, 
 se brevi eum sanum validumque restituturum esse. Free angore 
 oblata conditio accepta est;ac veterator ille nescio quid obscaeni 
 murmuris insusurrans, prehensd menu, dicto citius in pedes 
 sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem, maxima prce rei 
 inaudita novitate formidine perculsus, Mi JESU ! exclamat, vel 
 quid simile; ac subito respiciens nee hostem nee ullum alium 
 conspicit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu afflictum, per 
 summam pacem in rivo fluvii pascentem. Ad castra itaque 
 mirabandus revertens, fidei dubius, rem primo occuttavit, dein, 
 confecto bello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Delusoria procul 
 dubio res tota, ac mala veteratoris Ulius aperitur fraus, qua 
 hominem Christianum ad vetitum tale auxilium pelliceret. 
 Nomen utcunque Ulius (nobilis alias ac clari) reticendum duco, 
 cum hand dubium sit quin Diabolus, Deo permittente, formam 
 quam libuerit, immo angeli lucis, sacro 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 escaped the re- 
 searches of my friendly correspondent. 
 
 Lindesay is made to allude to this adventure of Ralph Bul- 
 mer, as a well-known story, in the 4th canto, stanza xxii. 
 
 The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly 
 to search for, and delight in, encounters with such military 
 spectres. See a whole chapter on the subject, in Bartholinus 
 De Causis contempts Mortis a Danis, p. 253. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
 Lord Lion King-at-arms. p. 153. 
 
 The late elaborate edition of Sir David Lindesay's Works, 
 by Mr. George 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
 
 326 APPENDIX TO 
 
 disquisitions on the origin of the language used by the poet : l 
 But, with all its faults, his work is an acceptable present to 
 Scottish antiquaries. Sir David Lindesay was well known for 
 his early efforts in favour of the reformed doctrines ; and, in- 
 deed, his play, coarse as it now seems, must have had a power- 
 ful effect upon the people of his age. I am uncertain if I abuse 
 poetical license, by introducing Sir David Lindesay in the char- 
 acter of Lion-Herald, sixteen years before he obtained that office. 
 At any rate, I am not the first who has been guilty of the 
 anachronism ; for the author of Flodden Field despatches 
 Dallamount, which can mean nobody but Sir David de la Mont, 
 to France, on the message of defiance from James IV. to Henry 
 VIII. It was often an office imposed on the Lion King-at- 
 arms, to receive foreign ambassadors ; and Lindesay himself 
 did this honour to Sir Ralph Sadler, in 1539-40. Indeed, the 
 oath of the Lion, in its first article, bears reference to his fre- 
 quent 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 
 
 *I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting 
 passage. Sir David, recounting his attention to King James Y. in hia 
 infancy, is made, by the learned editor's punctuation, to say: 
 
 " The first sillabis, that thou did mute, 
 Was pa, da, lyn, upon the lute ; 
 Then played I twenty springis perqueir, 
 Quhilk was great plesour for to hear." 
 
 Vol. i. p. 7. 257. 
 
 Mr. Chalmers does not inform us, by note or glossary, what is meant 
 by the king " muting pa, da, lyn, upon the lute ; " but any old woman 
 in Scotland will bear witness that pa, da, lyn, are the first efforts of a 
 child to say, " WTiare's David Lindesay ? " * and that the subsequent 
 words begin another sentence 
 
 ..." Upon the lute 
 
 Then played I twenty springis perqueir," etc. 
 
 In another place, " justing lumis," i. e. looms, or implements of tilt- 
 ing, is facetiously interpreted " playful limbs." Many such minute 
 errors could be pointed out; but these are only mentioned inci- 
 dentally, and not as diminishing the real merit of the edition. 
 
 * It is suggested by an ingenious correspondent that pa, da, lyn, 
 ought rather to be interpreted, play, Davy Lyndesay.
 
 MARMION. 327 
 
 fact, it was the mimicry of a royal coronation, except that the 
 unction was made with wine instead of oil. In Scotland, a name- 
 sake and kinsman of Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 1592, 
 " was crowned by King James with the ancient crown of Scot- 
 land, which was used before the Scottish 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 cor- 
 onation of his predecessor was not less solemn. So sacred was 
 the herald^s office that, in 1515, Lord Drummond was by 
 Parliament declared guilty of treason, and his lands forfeited, 
 because he had struck with his fist, the Lion King-at-arms, 
 when he reproved him for his follies. 1 Nor was he restored, 
 but at the Lion's earnest solicitation. 
 
 NOTE K. 
 Crichtoun Castle. p. 155. 
 
 A large ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about ten 
 miles from Edinburgh. As indicated in the text, it was built 
 at different times, and with a very differing regard to splendour 
 and accommodation. The oldest part of the building is a nar- 
 row 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 courtyard, 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 appear- 
 ance. The inside of this part of the building appears to have 
 contained a gallery of great length and uncommon elegance. 
 Access was given to it by a magnificent staircase, now quite 
 destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining cordage 
 and rosettes, and the whole seems to have been far more 
 splendid than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle be- 
 longed originally to the chancellor, Sir William Crichton, and 
 
 *The record expresses, or, rather, is said to have expressed, the 
 cause of forfeiture to be : " Eo quod Leonem, armorum Regempuffno 
 violasset dum eum de ineptiis suis admonet." See Nisbet's Heraldry , 
 Part iv. chap. xvi. ; and Leslcei Historia ad Annum 1515.
 
 328 APPENDIX TO 
 
 probably owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being 
 taken by the Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crich ton's coun- 
 sels the death of his predecessor, Earl William, beheaded in 
 Edinburgh Castle, with his brother, in 1440. It is said to have 
 been totally demolished on that occasion, but the present state 
 of the ruin shows the contrary. In 1483 it was garrisoned by 
 Lord Crichton, then its proprietor, against King James III., 
 whose displeasure he had incurred by seducing his sister Mar- 
 garet, in revenge, it is said, for the monarch having dishonoured 
 his bed. From the Crichton family the castle passed to that 
 of the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell ; and when the forfeitures of 
 Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were divided, the barony and 
 castle of Crichton fell to the share of the Earl of Buccleuch. 
 They were afterward the property of the Pringles of Clifton, 
 and are now that of Sir John Callander, Baronet. It were to 
 be wished the proprietor would take a little pains to preserve 
 these splendid remains of antiquity, which are at present used 
 as a fold for sheep and wintering cattle ; although, perhaps, 
 there are very few ruins in Scotland which display so well the 
 style and beauty of ancient castle-architecture. The castle of 
 Crichton has a dungeon vault, called the Massy More. The 
 epithet, which is not uncommonly applied to the prisons of 
 other old castles in Scotland, is of Saracenic origin. It occurs 
 twice in the Epistolas Itinerarice of Tollius. " Career subter- 
 raneus, sive, ut Mauri appellant, Mazmorra," p. 147 ; and 
 again, " Coguntur omnes Captivi sub noctem in ergastula sub- 
 terranea, quce Turcce Algezerani vacant Mazmorras," p. 243. 
 The same word applies to the dungeons of the ancient Moorish 
 castles in Spain, and serves to show from what nation the 
 Gothic style of castle-building was originally derived. 1 
 
 *In Scotland, formerly, as still in some parts of Greece, the 
 great chieftains required, as an acknowledgment of their authority, 
 that those who passed through their lands should repair to their 
 castle, to explain the purpose of their journey, and receive the hospi- 
 tality suited to their rank. To neglect this was held discourtesy in 
 the great, and insolence in the inferior traveller ; and so strictly was 
 the etiquette insisted on by some feudal lords, that the Lord Oliphant 
 is said to have planted guns at his castle of Newtyle in Angus, so as to 
 command the high-road, and compel all restive passengers to do this 
 act of homage. 
 
 It chanced when such ideas were predominant, that the Lord of
 
 MARMION. 329 
 
 NOTE L. 
 
 For that a messenger from heaven, 
 In vain to James had counsel given, 
 Against the English war. p. 159. 
 
 This story is told by Pitscottie with characteristic sim- 
 plicity : "The king, seeing that France could get no support 
 of him for that time, make a proclamation, full hastily, through 
 all the realm of Scotland, both east and west, south and north, 
 as well in the isles as in the firm land, to all manner of men 
 between 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 Edinburgh, 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 ways dis- 
 obey him ; but every man caused 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 meantime, there came a man, clad in a blue 
 gown, in at the kirk door, and belted about him in a roll of 
 linen cloth ; a pair of brotikings l on his feet, to the great of his 
 
 Crichton Castle received intelligence that a Southern chieftain of 
 high rank, some say Scott of Buccleuch, was to pass his dwelling on 
 his return from court. The Lord Crichton made great preparation to 
 banquet his expected guest, who, nevertheless, rode past the castle 
 without paying the expected visit. In his first burst of indignation, 
 the baron pursued the discourteous traveller with a body of horse, 
 made him prisoner, and confined him in the dungeon, while he him- 
 self and his vassals feasted upon the good cheer which had been pro- 
 vided. With the morning, however, came reflection, and anxiety for 
 the desperate feud which impended, as the necessary consequence of 
 his rough proceeding. It is said that, by way of amende honorable, 
 the baron, upon the second day, placed his compelled guest in his 
 seat of honour in the hall, while he himself retired into his own 
 dungeon, and thus did at once penance for his rashness, satisfied the 
 honour of the stranger chief, and put a stop to the feud which must 
 otherwise have taken place between them. Sir Walter Scott's Pro- 
 vincial Antiquities, vol. i. p. 25-6. 
 i Buskins.
 
 330 APPENDIX TO 
 
 legs, with all other hose and clothes conform thereto ; but he 
 had nothing on his head, but syde J red yellow hair behind, 
 and on his haffets, 2 which wan down to his shoulders ; but his 
 forehead was bald and bare. He seemed to be a man of two 
 and fifty years, with a great pike-staff in his hand, and came 
 first forward among the lords, crying and speiring 8 for the 
 king, saying he desired to speak with him. While, at the last, 
 he came where the king was sitting in the desk at his prayers ; 
 but when he saw the king, he made him little reverence or 
 salutation, but leaned down groffling on the desk before him, 
 and said to him in this manner, as after follows : ' Sir king, 
 my mother hath sent me to you, desiring you not to pass, at 
 this time, where thou art purposed ; for if thou does, thou wilt 
 not fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth with thee. 
 Further, she bade thee mell* with no woman, nor use their 
 counsel, nor let them touch thy body, nor thou theirs ; for, if 
 thou do it, thou wilt be confounded and brought to shame.' 
 
 "By this man had spoken thir words unto the king's 
 grace, the evening-song was near done, and the king paused 
 on thir words, studying to give him an answer ; but, in the 
 meantime, before the king's eyes, and in the presence of all 
 the lords that were about him for the time, this man vanished 
 away, and could no ways be seen or comprehended, but van- 
 ished 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 marshal, 
 who were, at that tune, young men, and special servants to the 
 king's grace, were standing presently beside the king, who 
 thought to have laid hands on this man, that they might have 
 speired further tidings at him. But all for nought ; they 
 could not touch him ; for he vanished away betwixt them, and 
 was no more seen." 
 
 Buchanan, in more elegant, though not more impressive 
 language, tells the same story, and quotes the personal infor- 
 mation of our Sir David Lindesay : "In iis, (i.e. qui propius 
 astiterant) fuit David Lindesius, Montanus, homo spectator 
 fidei et probitatis, nee a literarum studiis alienus, et cvjus 
 totius vita tenor longissime a mentiendo dberrat; a quo nisi 
 
 1 Long. z Cheeks. 3 Asking. * Meddle.
 
 MARMION. 331 
 
 ego hcec uti tradidi, pro certis accepissem, ut vulgatam vanis 
 rumoribus fdbulum, omissurus eram." 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 monitor 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 miracle or an imposture. 
 Mr. Pinkerton plausibly argues, from the caution against in- 
 continence, that the queen was privy to the scheme of those 
 who had recourse to this expedient, to deter King James from 
 his impolitic war. 
 
 NOTE M. 
 Archibald Bell-the-Cat. p. 210. 
 
 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 de- 
 lighted more in music, and "policies of building," than in 
 hunting, hawking, and other noble exercises, was so ill-ad- 
 vised as to make favourites of his architects and musicians, 
 whom the same historian irreverently terms masons and 
 fiddlers. His nobility, who did not sympathise in the king's 
 respect for the fine arts, were extremely incensed at the hon- 
 ours conferred on those 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 this measure, Lord Gray 
 told the assembly the apologue of the Mice, who had formed a 
 resolution that it would be highly advantageous to their com- 
 munity to tie a bell around the cat's neck, that they might hear 
 her approach at a distance ; but which public measure un-
 
 332 APPENDIX TO 
 
 fortunately miscarried, from no mouse being willing to under- 
 take the task of fastening the bell. " I understand the 
 moral," said Angus, "and, that what we propose may not 
 lack execution, I will bell the cat." The rest of the strange 
 scene is thus told by Pitscottie : 
 
 "By this was advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid, 
 Cochran, the Earl of Mar, came from the king to the council 
 (which council was holden in the kirk of Lauder 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 Coch- 
 ran the Earl of Mar's men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie 
 of black velvet, with a great chain of gold about his neck, to 
 the value of five hundred crowns, and four blowing horns, 
 with both the ends of gold and silk, set with a precious stone, 
 called a berryl, hanging in the midst. This Cochran had his 
 heumont born before him, overgilt with gold, and so were all 
 the rest of his horns, and all his pallions were of fine canvas of 
 silk, and the cords thereof fine twined silk, and the chains 
 upon his pallions were double overgilt with gold. 
 
 " This Cochran was so proud in his conceit, that he counted 
 no lords to be marrows to him, therefore he rushed rudely at 
 the kirk-door. The council enquired who it was that perturbed 
 them at that time. Sir Eobert Douglas, Laird of Lochleven, 
 was keeper of the kirk-door at that time, who enquired who 
 that was that knocked so rudely ? and Cochran 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 before rehearsed. Then the Earl of Angus past hastily to 
 the door, and with him Sir Eobert Douglas of Lochleven, 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 1 would 
 set him better. Sir Robert Douglas syne pulled the blowing 
 horn from him in like manner, and said, ' He had been the 
 hunter of mischief over long.' This Cochran asked, ' My lords, 
 is it mows, 2 or earnest ? ' They answered, and said, ' It is 
 
 Rope. *Jest.
 
 MARMION. 333 
 
 good earnest, and so thou shalt find ; for thou and thy com- 
 plices have abused our prince this long time ; of whom thou 
 shalt have no more credence, but shalt have thy reward accord- 
 ing 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 pleas- 
 ant 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, 1 and hanged him 
 over the bridge of Lawder, above the rest of his complices." 
 Pitscottie, p. 78, folio edit. 
 
 NOTE N. 
 This awful summons came. p. 226. 
 
 This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish 
 historians. It was, probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, 
 an attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon the 
 superstitious temper of James IV. The following account 
 from Pitscottie is characteristically minute, and furnishes, be- 
 sides, some curious particulars of the equipment of the army 
 of James IV. I need only add to it, that Plotcock, or Plu- 
 tock, is no other than Pluto. The Christians of the middle 
 ages by no means misbelieved in the existence of the heathen 
 deities ; they only considered them as devils ; 2 and Plotcock, 
 so far from implying anything fabulous, was a synonym of 
 the grand enemy of mankind. "Yet all thir warnings, and 
 
 i Halter. 
 
 *See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the Border 
 Minstrelsy, vol. ii. under the fourth head ; also Jackson on Unbetief, 
 p. 175. Chaucer calls Pluto the " King of Faerie ; " and Dunbar names 
 him, " Pluto, that elrich incubus." If he was not actually the devil, 
 he must be considered as the " prince of the power of the air." The
 
 334 APPENDIX TO 
 
 uncouth tidings, nor no good counsel, might stop the king, at 
 this present, from his vain purpose, and wicked enterprise, 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 Edin- 
 burgh : That is to say, seven cannons that he had forth of 
 the Castle of Edinburgh, which were called the Seven Sisters, 
 casten by Robert Borthwick, the master-gunner, with other 
 small artillery, bullet, powder, and all manner of order, as 
 the master-gunner could devise. 
 
 "In this meantime, when they were taking forth their 
 artillery, and the king being in the abbey for the tune, there 
 was a cry heard at the Market-cross of Edinburgh, at the hour 
 of midnight, proclaiming as it had been a summons, which 
 was named and called by the proclaimer thereof, The Sum- 
 mons of Plotcock ; which desired all men to compear, both 
 earl, and lord, and baron, and all honest gentlemen within 
 the town (every man specified by his own name), to compear, 
 within the space of forty days, before his master, where it 
 should happen him to appoint, and be for the tune, under the 
 pain of disobedience. But whether this summons was pro- 
 claimed 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 indweller of the town, Mr. Richard 
 Lawson, being evil disposed, ganging in his gallery-stair f ore- 
 anent the Cross, hearing this voice proclaiming this summons, 
 thought marvel what it should be, cried on his servant to 
 bring him his purse ; and when he had brought him it, he took 
 out a crown, and cast over the stair, saying, ' I appeal from 
 that summons, judgment, and sentence thereof, and takes me 
 all whole in the mercy of God, and Christ Jesus his son.' 
 Verily, the author of this, that caused me write the manner of 
 this 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 
 
 most remarkable instance of these surviving classical superstitions 
 is that of the Germans, concerning the Hill of Venus, into which she 
 attempts to entice all gallant knights, and detains them there in a 
 sort of Fools' Paradise.
 
 MARMION. 335 
 
 this summons, bat that one man alone which made his protes- 
 tation, and appealed from the said summons ; but all the lave 
 were perished in the field with the king. 1 ' 
 
 NOTE O. 
 
 Where my great-grandsire came of old, 
 With amber beard, and flaxen hair. p. 245. 
 
 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 Harden 
 family. 
 
 " With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 
 And reverend apostolic air, 
 Free of anxiety and care, 
 Come hither, Christmas-day, and dine ; 
 We'll mix sobriety with wine, 
 And easy mirth with thoughts divine. 
 We Christians think it holiday, 
 On it no sin to feast or play ; 
 Others, in spite, may fast and pray. 
 No superstition in the use 
 Our ancestors made of a goose ; 
 Why may not we, as well as they, 
 Be innocently blithe that day, 
 On goose or pie, on wine or ale, 
 And scorn enthusiastic zeal ? 
 Pray come, and welcome, or plague rott 
 Your friend and landlord, Walter Scott. 
 ".Mr. Walter Scott, Lessuden." 
 
 The venerable old gentlemen, to whom the lines are ad- 
 dressed, was the younger brother of William Scott of Raeburn. 
 Being the cadet of a cadet of the Harden family, he had very 
 little to lose ; yet he contrived to lose the small property he 
 had, by engaging in the civil wars and intrigues of the house 
 of Stuart. His veneration for the exiled family was so great, 
 that he swore he would not shave his beard till they were
 
 336 APPENDIX TO 
 
 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 uot 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 
 Macdougal, Bart., and another painted for the famous Doc- 
 tor Pitcairn, 1 was a beard of a most dignified and venerable 
 appearance. 
 
 NOTE P. 
 The SpiriVs Blasted Tree. p. 247. 
 
 I am permitted to illustrate this passage, by inserting Ceu- 
 bren yr Ellyll, The Spirit's Blasted Tree, a legendary tale, by 
 the Reverend 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 Glendwr, was ex- 
 treme, and marked by vile treachery in the one, and ferocious 
 cruelty in the other. 2 The story is somewhat changed and sof- 
 tened, as more favourable to the character of the two chiefs, 
 and as better answering the purpose of poetry, by admitting 
 the passion of pity, and a greater degree of sentiment in the 
 description. Some trace of Howel Sele's mansion was to be 
 seen a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in the 
 park of Nannau, now belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baro- 
 net, in the wild and romantic tracks of Merionethshire. The 
 abbey mentioned passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. 
 The former is retained, as more generally used. 
 
 1 The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius. By 
 the favour of the late Earl of Kellie, descended on the maternal side 
 from Doctor Pitcairn, my father became possessed of the portrait in 
 question. 
 
 J The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in 
 Wales.
 
 MARMION. 337 
 
 "THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE. 
 " Ceubren yr Ellyll. 
 
 "Through Nannau's Chase as Howel pass'd, 
 
 A chief esteem'd both brave and kind, 
 Far distant borne, the stag-hounds' cry 
 Came murmuring on the hollow wind. 
 
 " Starting, he bent an eager ear, 
 
 How should the sounds return again ? 
 His hounds lay wearied from the chase, 
 And all at home his hunter train. 
 
 " Then sudden anger flash' d his eye, 
 
 And deep revenge he vow'd 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, 
 Thy warning from the hoary seer ? 
 
 " Three ravens gave the note of death, 
 
 As through mid air they wing'd their way ; 
 Then o'er his head, in rapid flight, 
 They croak, they scent their destined prey. 
 
 " Ul-omen'd bird ! as legends say, 
 
 Who hast the wondrous power to know, 
 While health fills high the throbbing veins, 
 The fated hour when blood must flow. 
 
 " Blinded by rage, alone he pass'd, 
 
 Nor sought his ready vassals' aid : 
 But what his fate lay long unknown, 
 For many an anxious year delay 'd. 
 
 " A peasant mark'd his angry eye, 
 
 He saw him reach the lake's dark bourne, 
 He saw him near a Blasted Oak, 
 But never from that hour return. 
 
 22
 
 338 APPENDIX TO 
 
 " Three days pass'd 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, the 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 on high Moal's top, 
 Some saw him on the winding shore. 
 
 *' With wonder fraught the tale went round, 
 
 Amazement chain'd the hearer's tongue ; 
 Each peasant felt his own sad loss, 
 Yet fondly o'er the story hung. 
 
 " Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, 
 
 His aged nurse and steward gray 
 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 storm ; 
 The lady shed the widow'd tear, 
 As oft she traced his manly form. 
 
 " Yet still to hope her heart would cling, 
 As o'er the mind illusions play,
 
 MARMION. 339 
 
 Of travel fond, perhaps her lord 
 To distant lands had steer'd his way. 
 
 "Twas now November's cheerless hour, 
 
 Which drenching rains and clouds deface ; 
 Dreary bleak Robell's tract appear'd, 
 And dull and dank each valley's space. 
 
 " Loud o'er the weir the hoarse flood fell, 
 
 And dash'd the foaming spray on high ; 
 The west wind bent the forest tops, 
 And angry frown'd the evening sky. 
 
 "A stranger pass'd Llanelltid's bourne, 
 
 His dark-gray steed with sweat besprent, 
 Which, wearied with the lengthen'd way, 
 Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent. 
 
 "The portal reach'd, the iron bell 
 
 Loud sounded round the outward wall ; 
 Quick sprang the warder to the gate, 
 To know what meant the clam'rous 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 cross'd the spacious hall, 
 The menials look surprise and fear ; 
 Still o'er his harp old Modred hung, 
 And touch'd the notes for grief's worn ear. 
 
 " The lady sat amidst her train ; 
 
 A mellow'd sorrow mark'd her look : 
 Then, asking what his mission meant, 
 The graceful stranger sigh'd 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 unfetter'd flow !
 
 340 APPENDIX TO 
 
 " ' Now, lady, give attention due, 
 
 The story claims thy full belief : 
 E'en in the worst events of life, 
 Suspense removed is some relief. 
 
 " ' Though worn by care, see Madoc here, 
 
 Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe ; 
 Ah, let his name no anger raise, 
 For now that mighty Chief lies low. 
 
 " 'E'en from the day, when, chain'd by fate, 
 
 By wizard's dream, or potent spell, 
 Lingering from sad Salopia's field, 
 'Eeft 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. 
 
 " ' Vanquish'd at length, the Glyndwr fled 
 
 Where winds the Wye her devious flood j 
 To find a casual shelter there, 
 In some lone cot, or desert wood. 
 
 " ' Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise, 
 He gain'd 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 faltering words, 
 Such as with pain I now convey. 
 
 '' t < 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." 
 
 " ' Dim wax'd the eye that fiercely shone, 
 
 And faint the tongue that proudly spoke,
 
 MARMION. 341 
 
 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 deem'd, with him I fled ; 
 
 With huii I shunn'd the light of day. 
 
 " ' Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, 
 
 My country lost, despoil'd 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 view'd, 
 Died in the sacred cause ! who fell 
 Sad victim of a private feud ! 
 
 " ' Led by the ardour of the chase, 
 
 Far distant from his own domain, 
 From where Garthmaelan spreads her shades, 
 The Glyndwr sought the opening plain. 
 
 *' ' With head aloft, and antlers wide, 
 
 A red buck roused then cross' d in view ; 
 Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, 
 Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. 
 
 " ' With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, 
 He, all impetuous, pour'd his rage ; 
 Reviled the Chief as weak in arms, 
 And bade him loud the battle wage. 
 
 " ' Glyndwr for once restrain'd his sword, 
 
 And, still averse, the fight delays ; 
 But soften'd words, like oil to fire, 
 Made anger more intensely blaze. 
 
 " * They fought ; and doubtful long the fray I 
 
 The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound! 
 Still mournful must my tale proceed, 
 And its last act all dreadful sound.
 
 342 APPENDIX TO 
 
 " ' How could we hope for wish'd retreat, 
 
 His eager vassals ranging wide, 
 His bloodhounds' keen sagacious scent, 
 O'er many a trackless mountain tried ? 
 
 * ' I mark'd a broad and Blasted Oak, 
 
 Scorch'd by the lightning's livid glare ; 
 Hollow its stem from branch to root, 
 And all its shrivell'd arms were bare. 
 
 *' ' Be this, I cried, his proper grave ! 
 
 (The thought in me was deadly sin,) 
 Aloft we raised the hapless Chief, 
 And dropp'd 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, 
 Absorb' d ! she lost her present grief, 
 And faintly thought of things long past. 
 
 " 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 whiten'd bones to view ! 
 
 "Back they recoil'd ! the right hand still, 
 
 Contracted, grasp'd a rusty sword ; 
 Which erst in many a battle gleam'd, 
 And proudly deck'd their slaughter'd lord. 
 
 " They bore the corse to Vener's shrine, 
 With holy rites and prayers address'd ;
 
 MARMION. 343 
 
 Nine white-robed monks the last dirge sang, 
 And gave the angry spirit rest." 
 
 NOTE Q. 
 
 Hence might they see the full array 
 
 Of either host, for deadly fray. p. 282. 
 
 The reader cannot here expect a full account of the battle 
 of Flodden ; but, so far as is necessary to understand the ro- 
 mance, I beg to remind him that, when the English army, by 
 their skilful countermarch, were fairly placed between King 
 James and his own country, the Scottish monarch resolved to 
 fight ; and, setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge 
 of Flodden to secure the neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, 
 on which that village is built. Thus the two armies met, almost 
 without seeing each other, when, according to the old poem of 
 Flodden Field, 
 
 " The English line stretch'd east and west, 
 
 And southward were their faces set ; 
 The Scottish northward proudly prest, 
 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, the 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 
 was commanded by Surrey in person ; the left wing by Sir 
 Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the palat- 
 inate 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 hi a similar order 
 of battle, and in deep silence. 1 The Earls of Huntley and of 
 
 1 Lesquelz Escossois descendirent la montaigne en bonne ordre, en 
 la maniere que marchent lea Allemans sans parler, ne faire awcun 
 bruit. Gazette of the Battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendix, vol..ii^ 
 p. 456.
 
 344 APPENDIX TO 
 
 Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund 
 Howard with such success as entirely to defeat his part of the 
 English right wing. Sir Edmund's banner was beaten down, 
 and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's division. 
 The admiral, however, stood firm ; and Dacre advancing to his 
 support with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the inter- 
 val of the divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears 
 to have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, 
 chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the baggage of both armies ; 
 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 English 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 pushed 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 Highlanders, commanded by Lennox and Argyle, 
 was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and 
 especially the severe execution of the Lancashire archers. The 
 king and Surrey, who commanded the respective centres of 
 their armies, were meanwhile engaged in close and dubious 
 conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, and 
 impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by 
 his reserve under Bothwell, 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, pursued 
 his career of victory, 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 aban- 
 doned the field of battle in disorder, before dawn. They lost, 
 perhaps, from eight to ten thousand men ; but that included 
 the very prime of their nobility, gentry, 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
 
 MARMION. 345 
 
 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 History, Book xi. ; all former accounts being full 
 of blunders and inconsistency. 
 
 The spot from which Clara views the battle must be sup- 
 posed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the 
 English right whig, which was defeated, and in which conflict 
 Marmion is supposed to have fallen. 1 
 
 1 In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone's workmen were digging in 
 Flodden Field, they came to a pit filled with human bones, and which 
 seemed of great extent ; bat, alarmed at the sight, they immediately 
 filled np the excavation, and proceeded no farther. 
 
 In 1817, Mr. Grey of Millfield Hill found, near the traces of an 
 ancient encampment, a short distance from Flodden Hill, a tumulus, 
 which, on removing, exhibited a very singular sepulchre. In the 
 centre, a large urn was found, but in a thousand pieces. It had either 
 been broken to pieces by the stones falling upon it when digging, or 
 had gone to pieces on the admission of the air. This urn was sur- 
 rounded by a number of ells formed of flat stones, in the shape of 
 graves, but too small to hold the body in its natural state. These 
 sepulchral recesses contained nothing except ashes, or dust of the 
 same kind as that in the urn. Sykes's Local Records, (2 vols. 8vo 
 1833), vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.
 
 EDITOR'S NOTES. 
 
 (THE notes of Scott himself are so copious and learned, that 
 the editor only touches on a few points as to which additional 
 information may be desired.) 
 
 THE INTRODUCTIONS TO CANTOS. 
 
 These personal addresses to Scott's friends, he originally 
 intended to publish in a separate volume. An advertisement 
 of 1807 heralded them as " Six Epistles from Ettrick Forest." 
 Probably the separate publication would have been the better 
 plan. Of the friends, only Heber, and perhaps Ellis, are now 
 well remembered, except for their connection with Scott, as 
 shown in Lockhart, and in the Epistles. As a proof that 
 journalism, in 1808, was not more refined than in some modern 
 cases, we note that the Morning Chronicle accused Scott of 
 publishing different versions of the lament for Fox, to suit 
 Whigs or Tories. Beautiful as is the lament, it irritated the 
 waspish Jeffrey, for Scott, of course, was the poet of resistance 
 to Bonaparte, so dear a head to good Whigs. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 Xm. "The famous Lady Ford." The legend, in Pits- 
 cottie and elsewhere, is that Lady Heron of Ford beguiled 
 James at her castle, within a long mile of Flodden, while she 
 sent information to Surrey. Her daughter also conquered the 
 virtue of James's son, the young Archbishop of St. Andrews. 
 No such daughter is known to genealogists. "There is little 
 or no reason to give credence to the old-wife's tale that the 
 
 347
 
 348 EDITOR'S NOTES TO 
 
 inertion on the part of James was due to the fatal charms of 
 dame Elizabeth Heron, the chatelaine of Ford." The exact 
 reader may refer to Border Holds pp. 305-309, by Mr. Cad- 
 wallader Bates. Fixing his camp on Flodden Edge, James 
 lived for part of a week at Ford Castle. His intention was to 
 destroy the place. Lady Heron negotiated for its safety on the 
 basis of release of Scottish prisoners in English hands. Surrey 
 did not sanction the arrangement, and the Scots rased all but a 
 wing of Ford Castle before retiring to Flodden. This is not 
 very consistent with the double love affair, reported long after- 
 ward by Protestant, and therefore hostile chroniclers. 
 
 XXIX. St. Regulus. This saint is mythical, apparently 
 based on an Irish St. Riaghail of much later date. The relics 
 of St. Andrew probably reached St. Andrews through Bishop 
 Acca, sometime of Hexham, in the ninth century. The tower 
 of St. Rule, or St. Regulous, is probably of the eleventh or 
 twelfth century, but is a puzzle to antiquaries. The cave 
 is usually assigned to St. Caineach, and is now all but obliter- 
 ated by the sea. Mr. Skene's Celtic Scotlandm&y be consulted. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Introduction. Wallace's Trench. It is certain, that, in 
 the summer of 1297, after the surrender of the Scottish barons 
 at Irvine, Wallace, with his followers, held out in Ettrick For- 
 est. But ancient fortifications far older than Wallace's day 
 are extremely common on the Border hills, and probably 
 Wallace's Trench may be one of these. 
 
 "Sweet St. Mary's Lake." Wordsworth wrote "still," 
 not "sweet." 
 
 "St. Mary of the Lowes" (de lacubus). The etymology is 
 not too certain. The permanent pools in the sands between 
 Holy Isle and the mainland are locally styled "Lowes." We 
 have also "The Loch of the Lowes," above St. Mary's loch, 
 which some derive from luce, or pike, a fish too abundant in 
 that sheet of water. 
 
 XIV. St. Cuthbert's grave has, as Lockhart says, been 
 opened, and his pectoral cross, with other objects, is in the 
 Chapter Library, at Durham. There exists, however, a kind 
 of legend that the grave was not the right grave, which is still
 
 MARMION. 349 
 
 unravaged by Protestant curiosity. The relics, such as the 
 little portable silver-plated altar, axe of the highest curiosity. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Introduction. William Erskine. This amiable man was 
 literally done to death by a scandal of no very important 
 kind. He was Scott's most intimate friend and critic. When 
 Sir Walter, in 1845, wrote Bonnie Dundee these spirited verses, 
 he said, " I wonder if they are good. Ah, poor Will Erskine, 
 thou couldst and wouldst have told me." The song is one of 
 the best of its martial sort in Scott's works, "The cavalry 
 canter of Bonnie Dundee." Sir Walter's letters to Erskine 
 were burned by "a lady, a friend of the family." On this 
 female idiot let "a minstrel's malison be said." 1 In this In- 
 troduction Scott is his own critic, as in the Introduction to 
 The Fortunes of Nigel. Accurate in his estimate of himself, 
 he places his friend Joanna Baillie beside Shakespeare I 
 
 XV. " Held Romish thunders idle fear." This is in 1513, 
 therefore Henry's animosity against Home is a palpable anach- 
 ronism. The title of Defensor Fidei was still awaiting him. 
 
 XXIV. " Himself he saw, amid the field, 
 
 On high his brandished war axe wield." 
 
 Alexander III. was not present at the skirmishes with the 
 Northmen at Largs. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 XIV. "First by Achaius borne." Achaius is the per- 
 fectly mythical Scottish king credited with initiating our 
 Ancient League with France. There were no double tressures 
 in Achaius' s time. For poetical purposes, Scott borrows from 
 such imaginative historians as Boece. 
 
 XVI. "A ghostly wight." Lyndsay, a great contemner 
 of ghosts, vainly tried to seize this appearance. That James's 
 Queen arranged the phantasm is not probable. She was as 
 angry with her brother, Henry VIII., as James himself , and, 
 apparently, not less eager for war. Buchanan, as Scott re- 
 marks, had the story from Lyndsay himself. 
 
 1 See Scott's Journal, vol. i. pp. 415, 416
 
 350 EDITOR'S NOTES TO 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 XV. "Against the war had Angus stood." Scott's note 
 repeats the legend of James's rudeness to Angus, on the eve 
 of Flodden fight. The earliest evidence (Rotta de Scocesi), 
 written a month or so after the battle by an Italian poet, makes 
 Angus (Dalisse-Douglas) take part in the battle, and only re- 
 monstrate with James when he begins to fight like a private 
 soldier. Angus was then a man over sixty years of age. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 XIV. The tract by Mr. Bates, 1 already cited is probably 
 the most compendious, learned, and accurate of the many 
 accounts of Flodden. James is blamed for not plunging deeper 
 into England. To do so would have been a strategical error. 
 He cleared his flanks of Norham, Ford, and other places of 
 strength, and then awaited Surrey in an impregnable position. 
 His object was, not a raid on a large scale, but to effect a 
 diversion in the interests of his French allies. This he did, 
 luring Surrey far from his base. James's real error was, not 
 in failing to oppose Surrey at Twisel Bridge, but in leaving his 
 station on Flodden Edge. His troops were well supplied, those 
 of Surrey were all but mutinous from want of beer, and could 
 not have been kept together for three days. But James had 
 accepted challenge to battle ; moreover, he had once before 
 retreated from Surrey. He therefore descended from Flodden 
 Edge to Branxton, where he fought his last fight, one highly 
 creditable to the audacious generalship of Surrey, and to the 
 mettle of his ill-fed and wearied men. James arrayed his 
 forces well, but was not content to direct them. The Border- 
 ers got out of hand, and began to plunder ; the Celts made 
 their usual rush, and fled, as was usual, when it failed. The 
 whole English army gathered around the central division of 
 James with his nobles. He then sold his life dearly, fighting 
 in advance of "the dark impenetrable wood" of the Scottish 
 spears. He was ever wont, as Ayala, the Spanish ambassa- 
 dor had said, years earlier, "to begin fighting before he had 
 given his orders." 
 
 1 Mr. C. Bates. Flodden Field, p. 19.
 
 MARMION. 351 
 
 XXX. "Sybil Grey." The well spoken of is hard by 
 Branxton, on the roadside, and is marked by no memorial 
 stone. That honour has been paid, by the late Lady Water- 
 ford, to a well far from the real scene. 
 
 XXXIII. " Where's Huntley, and where's Home?" 
 Where indeed ? History cannot account for the conduct of 
 Home, who, later, was not undeservedly executed under the 
 Regent Albany. 
 
 XXXV. " The Royal Pilgrim." Margaret Tudor, widow 
 of James, married the young Earl of Angus within her year of 
 mourning. Later, desiring a divorce from Angus, she had the 
 audacity to declare that James was seen alive after her second 
 wedding, which was, therefore, illegal and not binding. This 
 originated, or perhaps only attests, the Scottish disbelief in 
 the death of James IV. 
 
 END OF VOLUME H.
 
 \