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PRESENTED BY

ARTHUR BERNARD RECKNAGEL
iN HONOR OF HIS SONS
LIEUT. BERNARD W. RECKNAGEL, ’30-’34
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LiEUT. THOMAS M. RECKNAGEL, ’40-’41: : Ay mate
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SELECE. POETRY

OF

SIR WALTER SCOT) Eaink

VOL. II.

 

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MARMION.

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09

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.

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fNOTICE.

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. Sir Walter Scott’s in-
terleaved copy has been followed, as finally re-
vised by him in the summer of 1831.

The preservation of the original MS. of thie
Poem has enriched this volume with numerous
various readings, which will be found curious
and interesting.

1st November, 1833.INTRODUCTION
TO

MARMION.

 

Wuart 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 profession, for
the more precarious resourees of literature. My appoint-
ment 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 delightful retirement, by my becoming the te-
nant of my intimate friend and cousin-german, Colonel
Russel, in his mansion of Ashestiel, which was unoccu-
pied, during his absence on military service in India.
The house was adequate to our accommodation, and thetS

INTRODUCTION TO MARMION.

exercise of a limited hospitality. The situation is un-
commonly beautiful, by the side of a fine river, whose
streams are there very favourable for angling, surrounded
by the remains of natural woods, and by hills abounding
ingame. In point of society, according 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 otherwise 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 Right Hon. William Dundas,
now Lord Clerk Register of Scotland, that some fitting
opportunity should be taken to be of service tome ; and
as my views and wishes pointed to a future rather than
an immediate provision, an opportunity of accomplishing
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 con-
siderable income,) who had served upwards of thirty
years, felt himself, from age, and the infirmity of deaf-
ness 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 suc-INTRODUCTION TO MARMION, 3

cessors, either for a2.sum of money, which was usually a
considerable one, or for 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 officein 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 sub-
scribed 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,
' bince, in the event of my dying before him, the gentle-
man whom I succeeded must have lost the vested in-
terest which he had stipulated to retain. I had the
honour of an interview with Earl Spencer on the sub-
ject, and he, in the most handsome manner, gave direc-
tions that the commission should issue as originally in-
tended; adding, that the matter having received the
royal assent, he regarded 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 poli-
tical opinions contrary to those which I had always pro-
fessed. In his private capacity, there is no man to
whom I would have been more proud to owe an obliga-~
tion, had I been so distinguished.

By this arrangement I obtained the survivorship of an
office, the emoluments of which were fully adequate te4 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION,

my wishes; and as the law respecting the mode of pro-
viding for superannuated officers was, about five or six
years after, altered from that which admitted the arrange-
ment of assistant and successor, my colleague very hand-
somely took the opportunity of the alteration, to accept
of the retiring annuity provided in such cases, and ad-
mitted 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 encountered
in our journey through life. Indeed, the publication of
my next poetical attempt was prematurely 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 an-
nounce myself asa candidate for literary fame. - Accord-
ingly, 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 muchso, 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 domestic occupations and amusements—a loqua-
city which may be excused by those who rememberINTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 5

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 de- ©
termination, which had been, to use great precaution in
sending this poem into the world ; and made it conve-
nient at least, if not absolutely necessary, 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 “ Eng-
lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers.”! I never could con-
ceive how an arrangement between an author and his
publishers, 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

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’st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchancs,
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!
For this we spurn Apollo’s venal son,
And bid a long ‘Good-night to Marmion.’”

Byron's Works, vol. vii. p. 235-6.16 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION,

of my merchandise—I had never higgled a moment
about the bargain, but accepted at once what I consi-
dered the handsome offer of my publishers. These
gentlemen, at least, were not of opinion that they had
been taken advantage of in the transaction, which in-
deed 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 authovr’s cellars with
what is always an acceptable present toa 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 removing,
some of its most prominent defects. The nature of Mar-
mion’s guilt, although similar instances were found, and
might be quoted, as existing in feudal times, was never-
theless not sufficiently peculiar to be indicative of the
character of the period, forgery being the crime of a com-
mercial, 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 remem-
ber my friend, Dr. Leyden, then in the East, wrote me
a furious remonstrance on the subject. I have, neverthe-
less, always been of opinion, that corrections, however in
themselves judicious, have a bad effect—after publication.
An author is never so decidedly condemned as on his own
confession, and may long find apologists and partisans
until he gives up his own cause. I was not, therefore,
inclined to afford matter for censure out of my own ad-
missions ; and by good fortune, the novelty of the sub-
ject, and, if [ may say so, some force and vivacity of
description, were allowed to atone for many imperfec-
tions. ‘Thus the second experiment on the public pa-
tience, generally the most perilous,—for the public are
then most apt to judge with rigour, what in the first in-~)

INTRODUCTION TO MARMION.

stance they had received, perhaps, with imprudent gene-
rosity,—was in my case decidedly successful. I had the
good fortune to pass this ordeal favourably, and the re-
turn of sales before me makes the copies amount to thir-
ty-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.

rene ar emnn mene r et a tne Te
bert
veeehe - — " Se eer Tere ere art TT Mig

ABBoTsFoRD, Apri, 1830.TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY, LORD MONTAGUE
&c. &c. ke.

THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED

v4

THE AUTHORADVERTISEMENT.

It ts hardly to be expected, that an Author whom the
Public have honoured with some degree of applause, should
not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author
of MARMION must be supposed to feel some anaiety concern-
ing tts 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 pri-
vate adventures of a fictitious character ; but is called a Tale
of Flodden Field, because the hero’s fate ts connected with
that memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The
design of the Author was, if possible, to apprize his readers,
at the outset, of the date of his story, and to prepare them
for the manners of the age in which it is laid. Any histo-
rial narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition,
exceeded his plun of a Romantic Tale ; yet he may be per-
mitted 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.Se se een emma ne eran Cee Nene tree es
a
° “ Se ee arr ee

 

MARMION:

A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD.

as
ee
t

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!
LEYDEN.——

Sesleie Gacmeeeeceaaiiied

 

 

 

TT eeMARMION.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST.

T9

WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esa.

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest.

NoveEMBER’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
Brawls over rock and wild cascade,

And, foaming brown with double speed,

Hurries its waters to the Tweed
B4

oi
ie

Cece le eee ee - a ro ee eee? ee

MARMION,

No longer Autumn’s glowing red
Upon our Forest hills is shed ;!
No more, beneath the evening beam,
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam
Away hath 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 ;
fn 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 ¢

7 [MS.—« No longer now in glowing red
The Ettericke-Forest hills are clad.’’}INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. ; ey,

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy’s flower
Again shall paint your summer bower ;
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 life revolving summer brings ;
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 ;}
The mind that thought for Britain’s weal,
The hand that grasp’d the victor steel ?
The vernal sun new life bestows
Fiven on the meanest flower that blows ;
But vainly, vainly may he shine,
Where glory weeps o’er NELSon’s shrine ;
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom,
That shrouds, O Pirr, thy hallow’d tomb!

Deep graved in every British heart,
O never let those names depart !?
Say to your sons,—Lo, here his grave,
Who victor died on Gadite wave ;°

1 [MS.—‘‘ What call awakens from the dead
The hero’s heart, the patriot’s head?” ]

2 |MS.—“ Deep in each British bosom wrote,
O never be those names forgot!’’]

3 [Nelson |:MARMION.

To him, as to the burning levin,

Short, bright, resistless course was given.
Where’er his country’s foes were found,
Was heard the fated thunder’s sound,

Till burst the bolt on yonder shore,

Roll’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,! Trafalgar ;
Who, born to guide such high emprize,
For Britain’s weal was early wise ;
Alas! to whom tke 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 ;
Who, when the frantic crowd amain
Strain’d at subjection’s bursting rein,
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,?
And brought the freeman’s arm, to aid the

freeman’s laws.

2

Had’st thou but lived, though stripp’d of power,*
A watchman on the lonely tower,

4 Copenhagen.
2 [MS.—‘ Tuge’d at subjection’s cracking rein.” }
3 [MS.—“ Show’d their bold zeal a worthier cause.”]
4 [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,INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 19

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 ;

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!

O think, how to his latest day,
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,

His thrilling trumpet through the land
Had warn’d when foemen were at hand,
As by some beacon’s lonely light,
By thee our course had steer’d aright ;
{ou steady course had steer’d aright ; }
Our pilots kept their course aright."
His single mind, unbent by fate,
_ Had propp’d his country’s tottering weight ;

As some { aa }column left alone,

{ee propp’d our tottering state and throne,
His strength had propp’d our tottering throne,
The beacon light is quench’d in smoke,

The warder fallen, the column broke.”’)

i MS.—“ Yet think how to his latest day.”]20 MARMION,

Whose peaceful bells ne’er sent around
The bloody tocsin’s maddening sound,
But still, upon the hallow’d day,}
Convoke the swains to praise and pray ;
While faith and civil peace are dear,
Grace this cold marble with a tear,—
He, who preserved them, Prrv, lies here}

Nor yet suppress the generous sigh,
Because his rival slumbers nigh ;
Nor be thy requiescat dumb,
Lest it be said o’er Fox’s tomb.?
For talents mourn, untimely lost,
When best 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 ;

1 [MS.— But still upon the holy day.” }
2 (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’a.””}INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. Qt

Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue,
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung ;
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong
The distant notes of holy song,

As if some angel spoke agen,

“ All peace on earth, good-will to men .”
If ever from an English heart,

O, here let prejudice depart,

And, partial feeling cast aside,}!

Record, that Fox a Briton died !

When Europe 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.

With more than mortal powers endow’d,
How high they soar’d above the crowd !
Theirs was no common party race,”
Jostling by dark intrigue for place ;

Like fabled Gods, their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar ;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Look’d up the noblest of the land,

1 [MS.—‘“ And party passion doff’d aside.""]
3 { MS.—“ Theirs was no common courtier race.” |22

 

 

MARMION.

Till through the British world were known
The names of Pirr 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.®
Drop upon Fox’s grave the tear,

*T will trickle to his rival’s bier ;

O’er Pirr’s the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox’s shall the notes rebound.

The solemn echo seems to cry,—

“¢ Here let their discord with them die.
Speak not for those a separate doom,
Whom Fate made Brothers in the tomb ;
But search the land of living men,

Where wilt thou find their like agen ?”

Rest, ardent Spirits! till the cries
Of dying Nature bid you rise ;
Not even your Britain’s groans can pierce
The leaden silence of your hearse ;
Then, O, how impotent and vain
This grateful tributary strain !
Though not unmark’d from northern clime,
Ye heard the Border Minstrel’s rhyme:

1[MS.—“ And force the pale moon from the sky.’’}
2(Compare the lines on Pirr and Fox in Byron's
“ Age of Bronze,”:

 

INTRODUCTION Tu CANTO FIRST. 23

His Gothic harp has o’er you rung ;
The Bard you deign’d to praise, your deathlese
names has sung.

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while,
My wilder’d fancy still beguile !
From this high theme how can 2 part,
Ere half unloaded is my heart !
For all the tears e’er sorrow drew,
And all the raptures fancy knew,
And all the keener rush of blood,
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood,
Were here a tribute mean and low,
Though all their mingled streams could flow—
Woe, wonder and sensation high,
In one spring-tide of 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 ;-
Each Gothic arch, memorial-stone.
And \ong, 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.

1[ ‘If but a beam of sober reason play,
Lo! Fancy’s fairy frostwork melts away.”
RocsErs’ Pleaswres of Memory.]24 MARMION.

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,
Marking its cadence rise and fail,

As from the field, beneath her pail,
She trips it down the uneven dale:
Meeter for me, by yonder cairn,

The ancient shepherd’s tale to learn ;
Though oft he stop in rustic fear,}

Lest his old legends tire the ear

Of one, who, in his simple mind,

May boast of book-learn’d taste refined.

But thou, my friend, can’st 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,

1 [MS.—“ Though oft he stops to wonder still
That his old legends have the skill
To win s0 well the attentive ear,
Perchance to draw the sigh or tear. 7INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 25

Despising spells and demons’ force,
Holds converse with the unburied corse ; !
Or when Dame Ganore’s grace to move,
(Alas, that lawless was their love !)

He sought proud Tarquin in his den,
And freed full sixty knights; or when,

A sinful man, and unconfess’d,

He took the Sangreal’s holy quest,

And, slumbering, saw the vision high,

He might not view with waking eye.?

The mightiest chiefs of British song
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 Round again.?
But that a ribbald 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 ;4
The world defrauded of the high design,°
Profaned the God-given strength, and marr’d the

lofty line.

1 See Appendix, Note A.

2 See Appendix, Note B.

3 See Appendix, Note C.

4[MS.—<“‘ Licentious song, lampoon, and play.” ]

6 [MS.—“ The world defrauded of the bold design,
And quench’d the heroic ) fire, and marr’d the
Profaned the heavenly lofty line.”

Again,

“ Profaned his God-given strength, and marr’d his lofty

line ”ee aor 5 . ae ee C— —e

26 MARMION.

Warm’d by such names, well may we then,
Though dwindled sons of little men,
Essay to break a feeble lance
In the fair fields of old romance ;

Or seek the moated castle’s cell,

W here 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,}
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 ;
And Valour, lion-mettled lord,

Leaning upon his own good sword.

) [In the MS. the rest of the passage stands as follows

- Around him wait with all their eae
spells,

Pure Love which Ae lb vee
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,

Aud Valour that despises death.” 3{NTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST, 25

Well has thy fair achievement shown,
A worthy meed may thus be won ;
Ytene’s! oaks—hbeneath whose shade
Their theme the merry minstrels made,
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold,?
And that Red King,> who, while of old,
Through Boldrewood the chase he led,
By his loved huntsman’s arrow bled—
Ytene’s oaks have heard again
Renew’d such legendary strain ;
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 :+
Hear, then, attentive to my lay,
A knightly tale of Albion’s elder day.

Pan een CE ls
[
“ . See ee eee eee rir trey Torre rer er tn Tt? TM id

a
ae
1

1 The New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called.

2 See Appendix, Note D.

3 William Rufus.

4 { Partenopex de Blois, a poem, by W.S. Rose, Esq., was pub
lished in 1808.—-ED. |Pa
7s Se
&

pe

MARMION.

CANTO FIRST.

 

Che Castle.

I.
Day set on Norham’s castled steep,!
And Tweed’s fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot’s mountains lone :
The battled towers, the donjon keep,?
Tne loophole grates, where captives weep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow lustre shone.3
The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,*
Seem‘d forms of giant height :
Their armour, as it caught the rays,

1 See Appendix, Note E.

2 See Appendix, Note F.

3 [In the MS. the first line has “ hoary keep ,” the fourth
“donjon steep ;” the seventh © ruddy lustre,”]

¢ (MS —“ Eastern sky.’’JCanto I. THE CASTLE, 29

Flash’d back again the western blaze,
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 barred ;
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
O’er Horncliff-hill a plump? of spears
Beneath a pennon gay ;
A horseman darting from the crowd,
Like lightning from a summer cloud,
Spurs on his mettled courser proud,
Before the dark array.
Beneath the sable palisade,
That closed the Castle barricade,

1 [MS.—“ Evening blaze.”]
2 This word properly applies to a flight ot 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.30

MARMION Canto I.

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 ;}
Lord Marmion waits below !”
Then to the Castle’s lower ward
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.

We
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 stalwart knight, and keen,
And had in many a battle been ;

1 [(MS.—“ 4 welcome shot.”]Canto TI. ‘PHE CASTLE. 31

The scar on his brown cheek revealed!
A token true of Bosworth field ;
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire,
Show’d spirit proud, and prompt te ‘re ;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek
Did deep design and counsel speak.
His forehead, by his casque worn bare,
His thick mustache, and curly hair,
Coal-black, aud 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.

VI.
Well was he arm’d from head to heel,
In mail and plate of Milan steel ;?
But his strong helm, of mighty cost,
Was all with burnish’d gold emboss’d ;
Amid the plumage of the crest,
A falcon 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 legion bore aright,
WHAha checks at me, to Yeath ts Vight.®
Blue was the charger’s broider’d rein ;
Blue ribbons deck’d his arching mane ;

1 [MS.—“ On his brown cheek an azure scar
Bore token true of Bosworth war.”—

2 See Appendix, Note G,

8 See Appendix, Note Rh.

RS

|
|
a

|
tee

oa32 MARMION, Canto Tf.

The knightly housing’s ample fold,
Was velvet blue, and trapp’d with gold.

VII.
Behind him rode two gallant squires,
Of noble name, and knightly sires ;
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!
And led his sumpter-mules along,
And ambling palfrey, when at need
Him listed ease his battle-steed.
The last and trustiest of the four,
On high his forky pennon bore ;
Like swallow’s tail, in shape and hue,
F'lutter’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,

1 MS.— One bore Lord Marmion’s lance so strong,
Two led his sumpter-mules along,
The third his palfrey, when at need.”ae

Py
-
'

Canto I. THE CASTLE. 33

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.

|
ES ee
Gee
i Soe

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,!
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.

1 [MS.—‘“ And when he enter’d, such a clang,
As through the echoing turrets rang.” |34

MARMION, Canto I,

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 Marmion :

They hail’d him Lord of Fontenaye,

Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,
Of Tamworth tower and town ;!

And he, their courtesy to requite,

Gave them a chain of twelve marks’ weight,
All as he lighted down.

“¢ Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion,
Knight of the crest of gold!

A blazon’d shield, in battle won,
Ne’er guarded heart so bold.”

TT.
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,

1 [See Appendix, Note I.]
2 [See Appendix, Note K.]Canto I, THE CASTLE. aD

— ‘Room, lordlings, 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,! ..
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.

Piace, nobles, for the Falcon- Knight!
Room, room, ye gentles gay,

For him who conquer’d in the right,

199

Marmion of Fontenaye:

XIII.
Then stepp’d, to meet that noble Lord,
Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell and of Ford,
And Captain of the Hold.?

He led Lord Marmion to the deas,
Raised o’er the pavement high,
And placed him in the upper place,

They feasted full and high:
The whiles a Northern harper rude
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud,

1{MS,—“ Cleave his shield. ]
2{See Appendix, Note L.}36

 

MARMION. Canto TI.

“ How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all,
Stout Willimondswick,
And Hardriding Dick,

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will 0? the Wall
Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh,
And taken his life at the Deadman’s-shaw.””!

Scantly Lord Marmion’s ear could brook

The harper’s barbarous lay ;
Yet much he praised the pains he took,
And well those pains did pay ;
For lady’s suit, and minstrel’s strain,
By knight should ne’er be heard in vain.

XIV.
* Now, good Lord Marmion,” Heron says,
“¢ Of your fair courtesy,
I pray you bide some little space
In this poor tower with me.
Here may you keep your arms from rst,
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.

' See Appendix, Note M.Canto I. THE CASTLE. 37

DOV:

The Captain marked his altered look,
And gaye 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,!

Where hast thou left that page of thine,

That used to serve thy cup of wine,
Whose beauty was so rare ?

When last in Raby towers we met,
The boy I closely eyed,

And often 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,*
Or saddle battle-steed ;

But meeter seemed for lady fair,

To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,

Or through embroidery, rich and rare,
The slender silk to lead:

His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, ©
His bosom—when he sigh’d,

The russet doublet’s rugged fold
Could scarce repel its pride !

Say hast thou given that lovely youth,
To serve in lady’s bower ?

Or was the gentle page, in sooth,
A gentle paramour ?”

( [MS.— And let me pray thee fair.”] 2
2 [MS.—“ To rub a shield, or skarp a brand. ]

m

a

ft

te
t

( i
7
i :ee et aN
= SSS SSS SSS =

 

38 MARMION Canto I,

XVI.
Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest,}
He roll’d his kindling eye,
With pain his rising wrath suppress’d,
Yet made a calm reply :
“That boy thou thought’st so goodly fair,
He might not brook the northern air.
More of his fate if thou wouldst learn,
I left him sick in Lindisfarn ;?2
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.?

XVII.
Unmark’d, at least unreck’d the taunt,
Careless the Knight replied,
“ No bird whose feathers gaily flaunt,
Delights in cage to bide.

‘ (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, 1 ween, of lineage high,
And of thy lady’s kin.
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.’ ”}
# (See Note to Canto II. stanza I. Appendix.]
3 [MS.—“ Whisper’d strange things of Heron’s dame.” ]
¢ (MS.—“ The Captain gay replied.”’]Canto: Ie THE CASTLE

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.

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.”

XVIII.
“* Nay, if with Royal James’s bride
The lovely Lady Heron bide,
Behold me here a messenger,
Your tender greetings prompt to bear;
For, to the Scottish court 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 razed old Ayton tower.”—?

XIX.
*¢ For such-like need, my lord, I trow,
Norham can find you guides enow ;

1 [MS.—“ She’ll stoop again when tired her wing”. ]
2 [See Appendix. Note N.1

a

Sa Pad ane elena pe eee ge :
— : e! ~~ Se ere eer e Terre eter rar TTT 6

&
a
\

PeaMARMION Canto I,

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 2
Tarried the wives of Greenlaw’s goods,

And given them light to set their hoods.”

XX.
* Now, in good sooth,” Lord Marmion cried,
“ Were I in warlike wise to ride,
A better guard I would not lack,
Than your stout forayers at my back;
But, as in form of peace I go,
A friendly messenger, to know,
Why through all Scotland, near and far,
Their King is mustering troops for war,
The sight of plundering Border spears
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil,
Break out in some unseemly broil:
A herald were my fitting guide ;
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide ,
Or pardoner, or travelling priest,
Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.”

 

XXI.
The Captain mused a little space,
And 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:

1 [See Appendix Note 0.]Canto I. THE CASTLE. |

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,

Ts all too well in case to ride;

The priest of Shoreswood1—he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train ;
But then, no spearman in the hall

Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man:
A blithesome brother at the can,

A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,
In which the wine and ale is good,
*Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.

But that good man, as ill befalls,

Hath seldom left our castle walls,
Since, on the vigil of St. Bede,

In evil hour, he 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 has 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.”

- f
Oe Ce SAUER 0c et seein Nek ieee eg
,
- i eo (oa :
. * =e ; Rereerenret eatentrerts Seer erar errr cette 77 6

:

1 See Appendix, Note P.42 MaRMION, Canto I,

XO.
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 J ohn.
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,
Roast 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 Rome,
One, that hath kiss’d the blessed tom
And visited each holy shrine,
In Araby and Palestine :
On hills of Armenie hath been,
Where Noah’s ark may yet be seen

 

a rr lICunto Tf. THE CASTLE. 43

By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod,
Which parted at the prophet’s rod ;

In Sinai’s wilderness he saw

The Mount, where Israel heard the law,
*Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin,
And shadows, mists, and darkness given,
He shows Saint James’s cockle-shell,
Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ;

And of that Grot where Olives nod,!
Where, darling of each heart and eye.
From all the youth of Sicily,

Saint Rosalie? retired to God.®

| ;
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ae
ee
:

XOXIVE
“ 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,*
Kens he, or cares which way he goes.” —-

BEX.
“ Gramercy !” quoth Lord Marmion,
“ Full loth were I, that Friar John,

1 (MS.—“ And of the Olives’ shaded cell.’"}

2 (MS.—“ Retired to God St. Rosalie.”J

3 See Appendix, Note Q.

4 [MS.—And with metheglin warm’d his nose,
As little as,” S&e.]44 MARMION, Canto I

That venerable man, for me,
Were placed in fear or jeopardy.
If this same Palmer will me lead
From hence to Holy-Rood,
Like his good saint, I'l pay his meed,
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead,
With angels fair and good.
I love such holy ramblezs ; 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.

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,”__!

 

' Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and
breviary, as well as his namesake in Babelais. “ But GargantuaCanto 7, THE CASTLE. 46

XXVIUI.
—‘ Let pass,” quoth Marmion ; py my fay.
This man shall guide me on my way,
Although the great arch-fiend and ne
Had sworn themselves of company.
So please you, gentle youth, to call
This Palmer! to the Castle-hall.”
The summon’d Palmer came in place;
His sable cowl o’erhung his face;
In his black mantle was he clad,
With Peter’s keys, in cloth of red,

On his broad shoulders wrought ;
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.

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,
But strode across the hall of state,
And fronted Marmion where he sate,?
could not sleep by any means, on which side soeverhe turned him-
self. Whereupon the monk said to him, ‘I neversleep 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.”

1 See Appendix, Note R.
2 MS.—* And near Lord Marmion took his seat.” 1]46 MARMION. Canto 1.

As he his peer had been.
But his gaunt frame was worn with toi! :
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,!
And want can quench the eye’s bright grace,
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace

More deeply than despair.
Happy whom none of these befall,”
But this poor Palmer knew them all.

 

XXIX.

Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ;
The Palmer took on him the task,
So he would march with morning tide,?
To Scottish court to be his guide,
“ But I have solemn vows to pay,
And may not linger by the way,

To fair St. Andrews bound,

1 | MS.—“ Hard toil can alter form and face,
roughen youthful grace,

oe } the eyes of grace.” }

2 (MS.—“ Happy whom none such woes befall.”
8 [MS.—“ So he would ride with morning tide.” ]

And want cantCanto T. THE CASTLE. 47

Within the ocean-cave to pray,
Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,
From midnight to the dawn of day,
Sung to the billows’ sound ;!
Thence to Saint Fillan’s blessed well,
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore :?
Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring
Could back to peace my bosom bring,
Or bid it throb no more!”

XXX.

And now the midnight draught of sleep,
Where wine and spices richly steep,
In massive bow] 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,5

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 wasse] roar,*

a ae nn INS Ort S Ba aie ca \ }
oer eee nee indiran MINES oUpcenpe om) hot = ere eener ee rineter i reerrre ter iceeatren 0 Ot

1 See Appendix, Note S.

2 St. Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Although
Popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the common people
still retain some of the superstitions connected with it. There are
in Perthshire several wells and springs dedicated to St. Fillan,
which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, even among the
Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of madness; and,
in 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. ]

3 [MS.—“ The cup pass’d round among the rest.”’]

4 [MS,—‘‘Soon died the merry wasse) roar.” ]

b43 MARMION. Canto f.

The minstrels ceased to sound.
Soon in the castle nought was heard,
But the slow footstep of the guard,

Pacing his sober round.

XXXI
With early dawn Lord Marmion rose :
And first the chapel doors unclose ;
Chen, after morning rites were done,
(A hasty mass from Friar John,)!
And knight and squire had broke their fast,
On rich substantial repast,
Lord Marmion’s bugles blew to horse:
Then came the stirrup-cup in course :
Between the Baron and his host,
No point of courtesy was lost;
Hig 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,?
And met the river breezes there,
Which gave again the prospect fair.

 

™ [In Cathohe 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 impatience of the audience.”
—WNote tt “ The Abbot.” New Edit. ]
2 [MS.—“Slow they roll’d forth upon the air.”[eo eee

MARMION.

oo 4
prea ‘ Sonne PaaS en anna
He as eaten en ge

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND.

TO

ae aS

a a

REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A.M.

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest.

THE scenes are desert now, and bare,
Where flourish’d once a forest fair,!

When these waste glens with copse were lined,
And peopled with the hart and hind.

Yon Thorn—perchance whose prickly spears
Have fenced him for three hundred years,
While fell around his green compeers—
Yon lonely Thorn, would he could tell

The changes of his parent dell,

Siuce he, so grey and stubborn now,

Waved in each breeze a sapling bough ;
Would he could tell how deep the shade

A thousand mingled branches made ;

ry bi : ao vr dn
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MARMION.

How broad the shadows of the oak,
How clung the rowan! 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,
“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 how] ;
The mountain-boar, on battle set,
His tusks upon my stem would whet;
While doe, and roe, and red-deer good,
Have bounded by, through gay green-wood.
Then oft, from Newark’s? riven tower,
Sallied a Scottish monarch’s power:
A thousand vassals muster’d round,
With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound ;
And I might see the youth intent,
Guard every pass with crossbow bent;
And through the brake the rangers stalk,
And fale’ners hold the ready hawk ;
And foresters, in green-wood trim,
Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim,

? Mountain-ash.
LMS.—“ 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 CANTU SECOND. 5)

Attentive, as the bratchet’s! bay

From the dark covert drove the prey,
To slip them as he broke away.

The startled quarry bounds amain,

As fast the gallant greyhounds strain ;
Whistles the arrow from the bow,
Answers the harquebuss below ;

While all the rocking hills reply,

To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters’ cry
And bugles ringing lightsomely.”

Of such proud huntings, many tales
Yet linger in our lonely dales,
Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow,
Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow.®
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 same.
Remember’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 ve had fair resource in store,
In Classic and in Gothic lore:
We mark’d each memorable scene,
And held poetic talk between ;
+ 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 Selkirk, is mentioned,
that the citizens assisted him to suppress this dangerous outlaw.52 : MARMION.

| Nor hill, nor brook we paced along,
| But had its legend or its song.
| All silent now—for now are still
Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill !!
No longer, from thy mountains dun,
The yeoman hears the well-known gun,
|| And while his honest heart glows warm,
1 1e At thought of his paternal farm,
ney | Round to his mates a brimmer fills,
i And drinks, “The Chieftain of the Hills!”
No fairy forms, in Yarrow’s bowers,
Trip o’er the walks, or tend the flowers,
Fair as the elves whom Janet saw
By moonlight dance on Carterhaugh ;
No youthful Baron’s left to grace
The Forest-Sheriff’s lonely chase,
And ape, in manly step and tone,
The majesty of Oberon :2
And she is gone, whose lovely face
Is but her least and lowest grace ;3
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.
E 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 ;

 

1A 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 nohleman here allu-
led to, George Henry, Lord Scott, son to Charles, Earl of Dalkeith,
(afterwards Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry,) who died early,
in 1808.]

3 [The four next lines on Harriet, Countess of Dalkeith, after-
wards Duchess of Buccleuch, were not in the original MS.]INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 53

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? is gone,

And left us by the stream alone.

And much I miss those sportive boys,?
Companions of my mountain joys,

Just at the age ’twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is truth
Close to my side, with what delight
They press’d to hear of Wallace wight,
When, pointing to his airy mound,

I call’d his ramparts holy ground !5
Kindled their brows to hear me speak ;
And If have smiled, to feel my cheek,
Despite the difference of our years,
Return again the glow of theirs.

Ah, happy boys! such feelings pure,
They will not, cannot, long endure ;
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.*

t {The late Alexander Pringle, Esq. of Whytbank, whose bean-
tiful seat of the Yair stands on the Tweed, about two miles below
Ashestiel, the then residence of the poet. ]

2 [The sons of Mr. Pringle of Whytbank. }

3 There is, on a high mountainous ridge above the farm of

Ashestiel, a fosse called Wallace’s Trench.
4°™MS.— And youth shall ply the sail and oar.”154

 

MARMION,

Yet cherish the remembrance still,

Of the lone mountain, and the rill ;

For trust, dear boys, the time will come,
When fiercer transport shall be dumb,
And you will think right frequently,
But, well I hope, without a sigh,

On the free hours that we have spent,
Together, on the brown hill’s bent.

When, musing on companions gone,
We doubly feel ourselves alone, :
Something, my friend, we yet may gain,
There is a pleasure in this pain:
It soothes the love of lonely rest,
Deep in each gentler heart impress’d.
*Tis silent amid worldly toils,
And stifled soon by mental broils ;
But, in a bosom thus prepared,
Tis still small voice is often heard,
Whispering a mingled sentiment,
*T wixt resignation and content.
_ ©Oftdn my mind such thoughts awake,
» By lune Saint Mary’s silent lake.1
«Thou ‘know’st it well,—nor fen, nor sedge,
Pollute the pure lake’s crystal edge ,
Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink
At once upon the level brink ;
And just a trace of silver sand?
Marks where the water meets the land,

‘ [See Appendix, Note U.}
8 [MS.—“ At once upon the eee } brink
And just a line of pebbly sand.’ ]INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 55

Far in the mirror, bright and blue,
Each hill’s huge outline you may view;!
Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare,

Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake, is there,
Save where, of land, yon slender line
Bears thwart the lake the shatter’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 ;
For though, in feudal strife, a foe
Hath laid Our Lady’s chapel low,?
Yet still, beneath the hallow’d soil,
The peasant rests him from his toil,
And, dying, bids his bones be laid,
Where erst his simple fathers pray’d.

1 [MS.—“ Far traced upon the lake you view

The hills’ heey }sides aud sombre hue.” ]

2 [See Appendix, Note V ]56 MARMION,

If age had tamed the passions’ strife,
And fate had cut my ties to life,
Here, have I thought, *twere sweet to dwell,
And rear again the chaplain’s cell,
Like that same peaceful hermitage,
Where Milton long’d to spend his age.!
*T'were 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 (atene ae:
Then gaze on Dryhope’s ruin’d tower,
And think on Yarrow’s faded Flower:
And when that mountain-sound I heard,
Which bids us be for storm prepared,
The distant rustling of his wings,
As up his force the Tempest brings,
*T'were sweet, ere yet his terrors rave,
To sit upon the Wizard's graye ;
That Wizard Priest’s, whose bones are thrust
From company of holy dust ;2

 

1 [“ And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spel]
Of every star that heaven doth show,
And every herb that sips the dew;

® Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.
Ii Penseroso. }

2 At one corner of the burial-ground of the demolished chapel,
but without its precincts, is a small mound, called Binram’s Corse,
where tradition deposits the remains of a necromantic priest, the
former tenant of the chaplainry. His story much resembles that
of Ambrosio in ‘“‘ The Monk,” and has been made the theme of aINTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 57

On which no sunbeam ever shines—

(So superstition’s creed divines)—
Thence view the lake, with sullen roar,
Heave her broad. billows to the shore ;
And mark the wild-swans mount the gale,
Spread wide through mist their snowy sail,’
And ever stoop again, to lave

Their bosoms on the surging wave :

Then, when against the driving hail

No ionger 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,?

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,°
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 ;

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.

1 [MS.-“Spread through broad mist their snowy sail.” ]}

2 [MS.—* Till fancy wild had all her sway.”

3 [MS.—“ Till from the task my brain I clear’d.”"]a scissile ntaeteaepei = SSS

, 58 MARMION,

And deem each hour, to musing given,
A step upon the road to heaven.

Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease,
Such peaceful solitudes displease :
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-skeng,)
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,
T'nunders 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.

 

 

1 Loch-skene is a mountain lake, of considerable size, at the
head of the Moffat-water. The character of the scen ery is uncom-
monly savage ; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many ages,
built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. Loch-skene dis-
charges itself into a brook, which, after a short and precipitate
course, falls from a cataract of immense height, and gloomy gran-
deur, called, from its appearance, the *“Grey Mare’s Tail.” The
““Giant’s Grave,” afterwards 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. og

And well that Palmer’s form and mien
Had suited with the stormy scene,

Just on the edge, straining his ken

To view the bottom of the den,

Where, deep deep down, and far within,
oils 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.

ee a arn nee a Te
,
™ a ay SE er atte rer eet we unter reereracerrr crete et hy Ng

Marriott, thy harp, on Isis strung,
To many a Border theme has rung; !
Then list to me, and thou shalt know
Of this mysterious Man of Woe.

{ ee

1 [See various ballads by Mr. Marriott, in the 4th volume of the
Border Minstrelsy, new edition. ]iis SSS SSE a ee

 

 

 

[ 60 |

MARMION.

CANTO SECOND.

The Convent.

I.
THE breeze, which swept away the smoke,
Round 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,
Bound to St. Cuthbert’s Holy Isle,?
It bore a bark along.
Upon the gale she stoop’d her side,
And bounded o’er the swelling tide,

1 See Appendix, Note W.
® See Appendix, Note xX.Canto LT, THE CONVENT. 61

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.

&&
\\ i
Ee
ie

a
a
e

Le.
*T was sweet to see these holy maids,
Like birds escaped to green-wood shades,
Their first flight from the cage,
Tiow 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:
Rear’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 gracea
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.62 MARMION. Canto 11.

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 keen
As she was fair, but ne’er had seen
For her a timid lover sigh,
Nor knew the influence of her eye.
Love, to her ear, was but a name,
Combined with vanity and shame ;
Her hopes, her fears, her Joys, were all
Bounded within the cloister wall :
The deadliest sin her mind could reach,
Was of monastic rule the breach ;
And her ambition’s highest aim
To emulate Saint Hilda’s fame.
For this she gave her ample dower,‘
To raise the convent’s eastern tower ;
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.

 

 

 

IDE
Black was her garb, her rigid rule
Reform’d on Benedictine school ;
Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ,
Vigils, and penitence austere,

« (MS. “’ Twas she that gave her ample dower. ,
*Twas she, with Carving rare and quaint,
We ho deck’d the chapel of the saint.’’7Canto IT, THE CONVENT, 64

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,

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.

Ms
Nought say I here of Sister Clare,
Save this, that she was voung 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 p
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 b'oom.

VI,
She sate upon the galley’s prow,
And seem’d to mark the waves below ;
Nay, seem‘d, so fixed her look and eye,
To count them as they glided by. ;64

 

MARMION. Canto Tf

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, murmur’d theie ;
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 :
Fiarpers 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,
Hath 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 grey.

VIII.
And now the vessel skirts the strand
Of mountainous Northumberland ;
Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise,

_ And catch the nuns’ delighted eyes.Canto 1. THE CONVENT. 65

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,!
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 Hoiy 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 ;
Dry-shod, o’er sands, twice every day,
The pilgrims to the shrine find way ;
Twice every day, the waves eflace
Of staves and sandall’d feet the trace.

i [See the notes on Chevy Chase.—Percy’s Reliques.]66

MARMION, Canto I],

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.

X.

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,
Rebuilded in a later style,
Show’d where the spoiler’s hand had been ;
Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen
Mad 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.2

waa .
—

Canto IT. THE CONVEN’. 67

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,

Halfdrown’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,

Rush’d emulously through the flood,

To hale the bark to land ;
Conspicuous by her veil and hood,
Signing the cross the Abbess stood,

And bless’d them with her hand.

eA Ri tec

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.68 MARMION, Canto Ti,

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 their saint,
A theme that ne’er can tire

A holy maid; for, be it known,

That their saint’s honour is their own.

XIII.

Then Whitby’s nuns exulting told,
How to their house three barons bold

Must menial service 1o;1!
While horns blow out a note of shame,
And monks ery “ 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,
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear.”
They toid, how in their convent cell
A Saxon princess once did dwell,

The lovely Edelfled ;2
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.

 

 

1 See Appendix, Note Y.

2 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 afterwards adorned the place of
her education with great magnificence.Canto IT. THE CONVENT. 69

They told, how sea-fowls’ pinions fail,
As over Whitby’s towers they sail,1

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 ;?
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!
In his stone-coffin forth he rides,
A ponderous bark for river tides,
Yes 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 choose his lordly seat at last,
Where his cathedral, huge and vast,
Looks down upon the Wear:

1 See Appendix, Note Z.
3 See Appendix, Note2 A

+)709 MARMION. Canto If.

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.
*Twas he, to vindicate his reign,
Edged Alfred’s falchion on the Dane,
And turn’d the Conqueror back again,
When, with his Norman bowyer band,
He came to waste Northumberland.

 

 

XVI.

But fain St. 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;
Such tales had Whitby’s fishers told,
And said they might his shape behold,

An@ kear his anvil sound :
A deaden’d clang,—a huge dim form,
Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm*

1 See Appendix, Note 2 B.
2 See Appendix, Note 2 C.
8 [ MS.—.“ Seen only when the gathering storm.”7se

i
:

ae
es
sS

Canto II. THE CONVENT. Zl

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?! built it, for his fault,
In penitence to dwell,
When he, for cowl and beads, laid down
The Saxon battle-axe and crown.
This den, which, chilling every sense
Of feeling, hearing, sight,
Was call’d the Vault of Penitence,
Excluding air and light,
W as, 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.
*T was 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.

OVALE
But though, in the monastic pile,
Did of this penitential aisle

1 See Appendix, Note 2 D.72

MARMION Canto [I].

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 blindfold 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,! in an iron chain,?
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
On iron table lay ;3
In long black dress, on seats of stone,
Behind were these three Judges shown
By the pale cresset’s Ta:
? Antique chandelier.
* (MS.—« Suspended by an iron chain,
A cresset showed this ete domam.” ]
®' MS.—“ On stony table lay.”jCanto II. THE CONVENT. io

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,'
And she with awe looks pale:
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight
Has long been quench’d by age’s night,
Upon whose wrinkled brow alone,
Nor ruth, nor mercy’s trace, is shown,
W hose 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,

1 See Appendix, Note 2 E.74 MARMION. Canto 11.

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 F ontevraud,
Whom the church number’d with the dead,
For broken vows, and convent fled.

X XI.

When thus her face was given to view,
(Although so pallid was her hue,
‘It did a ghastly contrast bear

To those bright ringlets glistering fair.)
Her look composed, and steady eye,
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.t

1 «6

LI 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 any thing upon it. I had completed the story on the passage
from Gibbon, which indeed leads to alike scene naturally, without
a thought of the kind ; but it comes upon me not very comfort
ably.”—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 ?Canto IL- THE CONVENT. 75

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-feeling ne’er aspires!
Beyond his own more brute desires,
Such tools the Tempter ever needs,
To do the savagest of deeds ;

For them no 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.

She stood, I said, all pale and still,
The living cause of Hugo’s ill;
Her eyes unmoved, but ful! 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,
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 scem’d in that low hollow groan
Her whole heart gushing in the tone.”
Byron’s Works, vol. x. p. 171.3

1 :In some recent editions this word had been erroneously printe4
*‘ onspires.” The MS. has the correct line:
«*Qne whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires.76

ue esis inch in 5 33 ions Pers

SSS

 

MARMION. Canto if

This wretch was elad in frock and cow},
And shamed not loud to moan and howl,
His body on the floor to dash,

And crouch, like hound beneath the lash ;
While his mute partner, standing near,
Waited her doom without a tear.

XXIII.
Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek,
Well might her paleness terror speak !
For there were seen in that dark wall,
Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall :—
Who enters at such 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 ;ante EL. THE CONVENT. 77

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, and 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 ;!
But stopp’d, because that woful Maid,
Gathering her powers, to speak essay’d.
Twice she essay’d, and twice in vain ;
Her accents might no utterance gain ;
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip
From her convulsed and quivering lip ;
°T wixt each attempt all was so still,
You seem’d to hear a distant rill—

1 It is well known, that the religious, who broke their vows o.
chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman vestals
in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to enclose their bo-
dies, was made in the massive wall of the convent; a slender pit-
tance of food and water was deposited in it, and the awful words.
VApE IN Pack, were the signal for immuring the criminal. It is
not likely that, in latter times, this punishment was often resorted
to; but among the ruins of the abbey of Coldingham, were some
years ago discovered the remains of a female skeleton, which,
from the shape of the niche, and position of the figure, seemed to
be that of an immured nun.

[The Edinburgh Reviewer, on st. xxxil. post, suggests that the
proper reading of the sentence is vade in pacem—not partin peace,
but go into peace, or into eternal rest, a pretty intelligible mittimus
to another world.—ED. |(z MAtmMIUN, Cano Lf.

"Twas ocean’s swells and falis;
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,}

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,

It was a fearful sight to see

Such high resolve and constancy,
In form so soft and fair.?

XXVII.
“ I speak not to implore your grace,3
Well know I, for one minute’s space

1 'MS.—‘‘ A feeble and a flutter’d streak,
Like that with which the mornings break
In Autumn’s sober sky.”]
2 {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 ¢ell.””}
8 (MS.—I speak not now to sue for grace,
For well I know one minute’s space
Your mercy scarce would grant:Canto IT. THE CONVENT. 79

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.—
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}

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 loved no more—

Lov’d her no more, who, once Heayen’s bride.

Now a scorned menial by his side,
Ilad wander’d Europe o’er.” 1a = = EE ee ———————————— eee ae me
— — Se ee ee ee

40

MARMION, Canto I!

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 !*
Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide!
When in the lists two champions ride,
Say, was Heaven’s justice here ?
When, loyal in his love and faith,
Wilton found overthrow or death,
Beneath a traitor’s spear ?
How false the charge, how true he fell,
This guilty packet best can tell.”—
Then drew a packet from her breast,
Paused, 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.’

1 [MS.—< Say ye, who preach the heavens decide
When in the lists the warriors ride.”a
1

}
f

pert

Canto £1. THE CONVENT, 8]

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 sweat,
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,
W hose cowardice has undone us both:

< at ae aN no ae Re ee ne nan
a a er :

an
; ee WERE Renee one Sete ENT Salis - |
SEE ‘

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.!
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.

4

oe

ROX:
“ Yet dread me, from my living tomb,
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome!
If Marmion’s late remorse should wake,
Full soon such vengeance will he take,
That you shall wish the fiery Dane
Had rather been your guest again,

! [The MS adds—“ His schemes reveal’d, his honour gone. 7}82

cw

aE
SS Sea ee

 

Sea ees ee

MARMION. Cante Tl

Behind, a darker hour ascends ;

The altars quake, the crosier bends,
The ire of a despotic King

Rides forth upon destruction’s wing ;
Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep,
Burst open to the sea-winds’ sweep ;

Some traveller then shall find my bones
Whitening amid disjointed stones,

And, ignorant of priests’ cruelty,?

Marvel such relics here should be.”

&

XXXII.
Fix’d was her look, and stern her air.
Back from her shoulders stream’d her hair ;
The locks, that wont her brow to shade,
Stared up erectly from her head ;?
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,
Raising his sightless balls to heaven ;—
“* Sister, let thy sorrows cease ;
Sinful brother, part in peace !”

1 [MS.—“ And, witless of priests’ cruelty.”}

2 [MS.—“ Started up { See from her head.”
uncurling

8 [See Note on Stanza xxv. ante, p. 77.3Canto I). THE CONVENT, 83

From that dire dungeon, place of doom,
Of execution too, and tomb,

Paced forth the judges three ;
Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell
The butcher-work that there befell,
When they had glided from the cell

Of sin and misery.

XXL,

An hundred winding steps convey
Lhat conclave to the upper day ;}
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,?
They scem’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,
The Bamborough peasant raised his head,
But slept ere half a prayer he said ;

' (MS.—‘ From that dark penance vault to day.’ }
# {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.’”?84 MARMION. Canto 1.

area |

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.MARMION.

{INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD,

PO eave ane ereeans erg renege elenen geet ree
rd
— . aia co im — ee et eo ete Seat Cert eee treed ory Ty bad

'T'O

WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esa.!

Ashesttel. Ettrick Forest,

Lixs 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,

i
te

1 [William Erskine, Esq. advocate, sheriff-depute of the Orn-
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 hit
chief confidant and adviser as to all literary matters. See a notice
of his lite and character by the late Mr. Hay Donaldson, to which
Sir Walter Scott contributed several paragraphs.—Eb. }86

MARMION.

And ever swells again as fast,

When the ear deems its murmur past ;
Thus various, my romantic theme
Fits, 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 2!
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 mis-spent,
Thine hours to poetry are lert,?
Go, and to tame thy wandering course,
Quaff from the fountain at the source;
Approach those masters, o’er whose tomb
Immortal laurels ever bloom:
Instructive of the feebler bard,
Still from the grave their voice is heard ;
From them, and from the paths they show’d,
Choose honour’d guide and practised road ;

t [MS.—“ With sound now lowly, and now higher,
Irregular to wake the lyre.’’]
® [MS —“ Thine hours to thrifiless rhyme are lent.”}INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 87

Nor ramble on through brake and maze,
With harpers rude of barbarous days.

“ Or deem’st thou not our later time!
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme ?
Hast thou no elegiac verse
For Brunswick’s venerable hearse ?
What! not a line, a tear, a sigh,

When valour bleeds for liberty >—

Oh, hero of that glorious time,

When, with unrivall’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.
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 3
Valour and skill ’twas thine to try,

And, tried in vain, ’twas thine to die.

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 ?”]88

MARMION.

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 life an honour’d close sl
And when revolves, in time’s sure change,
The hour of Germany’s revenge,

When, breathing fury for her sake,

Some new Arminius shall awake,

Her champion, ere he strike, shall come
To whet his sword on Brunswicx’s ton:b.

“ 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,

1[MS.—“ 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 Red-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 brid.e, 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,” &c.}
2 [Sir Sidney Smith.]YNTRODUCTIUN TO CANTO THIRD. 89

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 Russ, 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.!

“ 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,” came,
With fearless hand and heart on flame }
From the pale willow snatch’d the treasure,
And swept it with a kindred measure,
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 Shakspeare 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,

1 [Sir Ralph Abercromby. ]
% | Joanna Baillie.90

MARMION.

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, formed in early day ?
flowe’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.!
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 goee,
And England’s wealth around him flows ;
Ask, if it would content him well,

At ease in these gay plains to dwell,
Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen,
And spires and forests intervene,

And the neat cottage peeps between ?
No! not for these will he exchange
His dark Lochaber’s boundless range,

1 (See Popr’s Essay on Man, Epistle II. v. 133-148. ]INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 9)

Not for fair Devon’s meads forsake
Bennevis grey, and Garry’s lake.

Thus while I ape the measure wild
Of tales that charm’d me yet a child,
Rude though they be, still with the chime
Return the thoughts of early time ;
And feelings, roused in life’s first day,
Glow in the line, and prompt the lay.
Then rise those crags, that mountain tower,
Which charm’d my fancy’s wakening hour.'
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 heaver:.
It was a barren scene, and wild,
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ;
But ever and anon between
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green ;
And well the lonely infant knew
Recesses where the wall-flower grew,”
And honey-suckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin’d wall.
I deem’d such nooks the sweetest shade
The sun in all its round survey’d ;

1 [MS.—“ The lonely hill, the rocky tower,
That caught attention’s wakening hour.” ]

2 (MS.—“ Recesses where the woodbine grew.” |92 MARMION,

And still I thought that shatter’d tower'
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.?
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?
Again I fought each combat o’er,

 

 

‘ (Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the Authors
infancy, is situated about two miles from Dryburgh Abbey. |
2(The two next couplets are not in the MS.]
2 ([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 “1INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 93

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.!

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 grey-hair’d Sire,?
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 ;°
To him the venerable Priest,
Our frequent and familiar guest,
Whose life and manners well could paint
Alike the student and the saint ;*
Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
With gambol rude and timeless joke:
For I was wayward, bold, and wild,
A self-will’d imp, a grandame’s child
1 {See notes on 7'he Eve of St. John, in the Border Minstrelsy,
vol. iv.; and the Author’s Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. i,
p. 101, ante. }
2 [Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet.]
3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that the
a ‘““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 te

Second Edit.
4 [MS.—‘“ The student, gentleman, and saint.”

The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin, mims-
ter of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is situated. ]94

 

. MARMION.

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 flourish 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.

Ghe Wostel, ar En.

I.
Tue livelong day Lord Marmion rode:
The mountain path the Palmer show’d
By glen and streamlet winded still,
Where stunted birches hid the rill.
They might not choose the lowland road,!
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 tor the bending bow ;

1 [MS.—“ They might not choose the easier road.
For many a forayer was abroad.” |

G

| | es
if
He |
The) 996

MARMION. Canto II’.

And when the stony path began,

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 ;!
Thence winding down the northern way,
Before them, at the close of day,

Old Gifford’s towers and hamlet lay.?

i:
No summons calls them te 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
Its cheerful fire and hearty food
Might well relieve his train.
Down from their seats the horsemen sprung,
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung ;
They bind their horses to the stall,
For forage, food, and firing call,
And various clamour fills the hall:

1 [See notes to “‘ The Bride of Lammermoor.” Waverley Novels,
vols. xiii. and xiv. |

2 [The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddington:
close to it is Yester House, the seat of the Marquis of Tweeddale,

anda

little farther up the stream, which descends from the hills of

Lammermoor, are the remains of the old castle of the family. ]

* Sse Appendix, Note 2 F.- Bae |
Nd eee

- eee ae ee as fm s
[ae ee ean Se tErneeee

Canto ITT, THE HOSTEL, OR INN, 97
Weighing the labour with the cost,
Toils everywhere the bustling host.

ITT.
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 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.

: AOS een a
Bee o een an ene i
Fp gH VD

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,98

MARMION. Canto TTT.

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 yenturous in a lady’s bower :—

Such buxom chief shall lead his host
From India’s fires to Zembla’s frost.

V.
Resting upon his pilgrim staff,
Right opposite the Palmer stood ;
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,’
The Palmey’s visage fell.

NOE
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 :—

1 (MS.—“ Full met their eyes’ encountering glance.”}Canto ITI. THE HOSTEL, OR INN, 99

“¢ Saint Mary! saw’st thou e’er such sight 2
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 1
Endure that sullen scowl.”

VII.

But Marmion, as to chase the awe
Which thus had quell’d their hearts, who saw
The ever-varying fire-light 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 spring-tide bush,
No nightingale her love-lorn tune
More sweetly warbles to the moon.
Woe to the cause, whate’er it be,
Detains from us his melody,

Lavish’d on rocks, and billows stern,
Or duller monks of Lindisfarne.
Now must I venture, as I may,

To sing his favourite roundelay ”100

MARMION. Canto TE.

IX.
A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had,
The air he chose was wild and sad,
Such have I heard, in Scottish land,
Rise from the busy harvest band,
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,
Recall’d fair Scotland’s hills again !

X.

Sung.
Where shall the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden’s breast,
Parted for ever ?
Where, through groves deep and hizh,
Sounds the far billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.

CHORUS,
Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.Canto ITT. THE HOSTEL, OR INN.

There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving ;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving ;
There, thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,
Never, O never!

CHORUS,
Eleu loro, &c.. Never O never!

XI.
Where shall the traitor 1est,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden’s breast,
Ruin, and leave her 2
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war’s rattle
With groans of the dying.

CHORUS,
Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying,

Her wing shall the eagle flap
O’er the false-hearted ;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted.
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it,
Never, O never!102 MARMION. Canto ITI.

CHORUS.
Eleu loro, &e. Never, O never!

XII.

Tt 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,
| {i And rested with his head a space,
1 |i 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.

 

 

XII.
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,
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,Canto LIT. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 103

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.”

XIV.
Marmion, whose steady heart and eye
Ne’er changed in worst extremity ;
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook,
Even from his King, a haughty look ;?
Whose accent of command controll’d,
In camps, the boldest of the bold—
Thought, look, and utterance fail’d him nor,
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 vail their eyes
Before their meanest slave.

1 Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among
the Scottish peasantry, is what 1s called the ‘‘ dead-bell,” explain-
ed 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 teils a story to the purpose in the “‘ Mountain Bard,"
p. 26; [p. 31-2, 3d Edit. }

2 {MS.—“ Marmion, whose pride
Whose haughty soul }eould never brook,
Even trom his King, a scornful loo.”104

MARMION, Canto [Tt

XV.
Well might he falter !__By his aid
Was Constance Beverley betray’d.
Not that he augur’d of the doom,
Which on the living closed the tomb:
But, tired to hear the desperate maid!
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid ;
And wroth, because in wild despair,? ”
She practised on the life of Clare ;
Its fugitive the Church he gave,
Though not a victim, but a slave ;
And deem’d restraint in convent strange
W ould hide her wrongs, and her revenge.
Himself, proud Henry’s favourite peer,
Held Romish thunders idle fear,
Secure his pardon he might hold,
For some slight mulct of penance-gold.
Thus judging, he gave secret way,
When the stern priests surprised their prey.
His train but 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 !

XV i.
His conscience slept—he deem’d her weil,
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.”)
®[ MS.—“ Incensed, because in wild despair.”Canto IIT. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 10é

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 naen '
How changed these timid looks have been,}
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
ter peace on earth, her hopes in heaven !~~
W ould,” thought he, as the picture grows,
“ T on its stalk had left the rose!

2 [The MS. reads :—
“« Since fiercer passions wild and high,
Have flush’d her cheek with deeper dye,
And years of guilt, and of disguise.
Haye 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 !—
How will her ardent spirit swell,
And chafe within the narrow cell!’ }a ee

MARMION. Canto I/t.

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
Repentance and reviving love,
Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway
I’ve seen Loch Vennachar obey,
Their Host the Palmer’s speech had heard,
And, talkative, took up the word :

“¢ Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray
From Scotland’s simple land away,!

To visit realms afar,
Full often learn the art to know
Of future weal, or future woe,

By word, or sign, or star ;
Yet might a knight his fortune hear,
If, knight-like, he despises fear,

1 (MS. —“ From this pla simple land away.”4
age
fs

Canto ITT. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 107

Not far froin 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:
he Wust’s Tale.
“ A Clerk could tell what years have flown
Since Alexander filled our throne,
(Third monarch of that warlike name,)
And eke the time when here he came
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord:
A braver never drew a sword ;
A wiser never, at the hour
Of midnight, spoke the word of power:
The same, whom ancient records call
The founder of the Goblin- Hall.
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay
Gave you that cavern to survey.
Of lofty roof, and ample size,
Beneath the castle deep it lies:
To hew the living rock profound,
The floor to pave, the arch to round,
There never toil’d a mortal arm,
¢ all was wrought by word and charm 3
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 speli,
Sounded as loud as ocean’s war,
Among the caverns of Dunbar.
i See Appendix, Note 2G.

i
a
ff
5108 MARMION, Canto IT]

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,!
Above Norweyan warriors grim,”
Savage of heart, and large of limb ;
Threatening both continent and isle,
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle.
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground,
Heard Alexander’s bugle sound,
And tarried not his garb to change,
But, in his wizard habit strange,>
Came forth,—a quaint and fearful sight ,
His mantle lined with fox-skins white ;

' In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Frith ot Clyde
with a powerful armament, and made a descent at Largs, in Ayr-
shire. 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.

2 [MS.—“ There floated Haco’s banner grim,
O’er fierce of heart and large of limb.”]

3 “ Magicians, as is well known, were very curious in the choice
and form of their vestments, Their caps are oval, or like pyra-
raids, 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-
fashioned ; and their swords have neither guard nor scabbard.”—
See these, and many other particulars, in the discourse concerning
Devils and Spirits, annexed to REGINALD Scort’s Discovery of
Witchcraft, edition 1483,Cueto ITT, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 109

His high and wrinkled forehead bore
A pointed cap, such as of yore

Clerks say that Pharaoh’s Magi wore:
Fis shoes were mark’d with cross and spell.
Upon his breast a pentacle ;!

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 ;2
And in his hand he held prepared,

A naked sword without a guard.

eae Se weer oret Cerra tT TM tL

z

XOX T:
“ 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 :

1 “A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five cornerg,
aecording to the five senses, and suitably inscribed with characters.
This the magician extends towards the spirits which he invokes,
when they are stubborn and rebellious, and refuse to be conform-
able unto the ceremonies and rights of magic.”—See the Discourses,
&c. above mentioned, p. 66.

2 [MS.—“ Bare many a character and sign,
Of planets retrograde and trine.” |Lid

MARMION, Canto 111

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.

SOX:
** 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 controll’d.
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,
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!
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaim’d hell’s empire overthrown,—
With untaught valour shalt compel
Response 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,

' It 1s a popular article of faith, that those who are born on
Christmas, or Good Friday, have the power of seeing spirits, and
sven of commanding them. ‘The Spaniards imputed the haggard
and downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disagreeable visions
to which this privilege subjected him.

2 [MS.—“ With uutaught valour mayst compel
What is denied to magic spell.”"11

paar
eas

~~ 7

< S :
ee
ze
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s

Canto ITT, THE HOSTEL, OR INN. {il

Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide,

The demon shall a buffet bide.’

His bearing bold the wizard view'd,

And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed .—
‘ There spoke the blood of Malcolm !—mark :
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark

The rampart seek, whose circling crown?
Crests the ascent of yonder down:

A southern entrance shalt thou find ;

There halt, and there thy bugle wind,

And trust thine elfin foe to see,

In guise of thy worst enemy :

Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed—
Upon him! and Saint George to speed!

If he go down, thou soon shalt know
Whate’er these airy sprites can show ;—

If thy heart fail thee in the strife,

{ 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 :3
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.

' [MS.—“ Bicker and buffet he shall bide.”’]

: ep that camp which
iS Seek{ Jon old Ceenen that
8{MS.—“ Alone, and arm'd, rode forth the King

To that encampment’s haunted round.” ]

H

as a crown.” }MARMION, Canto ITT.

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,!
Halted, and blew a gallant blast ;

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? was her deadliest foe.

DOXLV:
* 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.
Tne King, light leaping to the ground,
With naked blade his phantom fve
Compell’d the future war to show.

t_|MS.— The southern gate our Monarch past.”
2 Edward I. surnamed Longshanks.Canto ITT, THE HOSTEL, OR INN, 113

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.
Tis said, that in that awful night,
Remoter visions met his sight,
Foreshowing future conquests far,!
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.

XOX:
“* 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.’
1(MS.—« To be fulfill’d in times afar,
en 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 Copenhagenin 180),
Southey’s Life of Nelson, chap vii.)114 MARMION. Canto ITT,

Long since, beneath Dunfermline’s nave,
King Alexander fills his grave,
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? 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,?
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 2 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 ITI. THE HOSTEL, OR INN, 115

XXVITI.
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.!

4
oH
I

r

§

t

;

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 ;?
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed
Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ;
I would not, that the prating knaves
Had cause for saying, o’er their ale
That I could credit such a tale.”—
Then softly down the steps they slid,
Eustace the stable door undid,

) [MS.—“ But, ere his dagger Eustace drew,
It spoke—Lord Marmion’s voice he knew.’ }
& |MS.—** Come down and saddle me my steed.” |MARMION. Canto IT.

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! ?
Blithe would I battle, for the right
To ask one question at the sprite :—
Vain thought! for elves, if elves there be,
An empty race, by fount or sea,
To dashing waters dance and sing,?
Or round the green oak wheel their ring.”
Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode,
And from the hostel slowly rode.

XXX,
Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad,
And mark’d him pace the village road.
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.
W onder it seem’d, in the squire’s eyes, .
That one, so wary held, and wise,—
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 ITT. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. ii?

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-EKustace 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.

SOOT
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,'
Return’d Lord Marmion.
Down hastily he sprung from seile,
And, in his haste, wellnigh 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,

1 Yode, used by old poets for went.118

SO — as

MARMION. Canto TI

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.MARMION.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH

TO

JAMES SKENE, Ese!

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest
An ancient Minstrel sagely said,
«© Where is the life which late we led ?”
That motley clown in Arden wood,
Whom humorous Jacques with envy view’d.
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 ;?
And sure, through many a varied scene,
Unkindness never came between.

1 [James Skene, Esq. of Rubislaw, Aberdeenshire, was Cornet

in the Royal Edinburgh Light Horse Volunteers; and Sir Walter
Scott was Quartermaster of the same corps. |

2 [MS.—“ Unsheath’d the voluntary brand."}120

 

 

ws

OEE ION SRT EE ES SRT TS cn ere Se Se : = ae pe aie le

 

 

MARMYD)N.

Away these winged years have flown,

To join the mass of ages gone ;

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 inspired my opening tale,
That same November gale once more
Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore.
Their vex’d boughs streaming to the sky,
Once more our naked birches sigh,
And Blackhouse heights, and Ettrick Pen,
Have donn’d their wintry shrouds again :
And mountain dark, and flooded mead,}
Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed.
Earlier than wont along the sky,
Mix’d with the rack, the snow mists fly ;
The shepherd who, in summer sun,
Had something of our envy won,
1 | MS.—“ And noon-tede mist, and flooded mead.”}INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 13

As thou with pencil, I with pen,

The features traced of hill and glen ;—!
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,?
Through heavy vapours dank and dun :
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm,
ITears, 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 ;
Tul, dark above, and white below,3
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 ;

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.”’}
® [MS.—“ Till thickly drives the flaky snow,
And forth the hardy swain must go
While, with dejected lonk and whine,” &c.}122 MARMION.

Whistling and cheering them to aid,
Around his back he wreathes the plaid :
His flock he gathers, and he guides,

To open downs, and mountain-sides,
Where fiercest though the tempest blow
Least deeply lies the drift below.

The blast that whistles o’er the fells, !
Stiffens his locks to icicles ;

Oft he looks back, while streaming far,
His cottage window seems a star,—?
Loses its feeble gleam,—and then
Turns patient to the blast again,

And, facing to the tempest’s sweep,
Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep.
If fails his heart, if his limbs fail,
Benumbing death is in the gale ;

His paths, his landmarks, all unknown.
Close to the hut, no more his own,
Close to the aid he sought in vain,

The morn may find the stiffen’d swain :3
The widow sees, at dawning pale,

His orphans raise their feeble wail ;

 

 

 

 

1 [MS.—“ The frozen blast that sweeps the fells.”]
2 (MS.—“ His cottage window beams a star,—

But soon he loses it,—and then

Turns patient to his task again.”]
8 [MS.—<“ The morn shall find the stiffen’d swain:

His widow sees, at morning pale,

His children rise, and raise their wail.”’]
I cannot help here mentioning, that, on the night in which these
tines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden fall of
snow, beginning after sunset, an unfortunate man perished exactly
in the manner here described, and his body was next morning
found close to his own house. The accident happened within five
miles of the farm of Ashestiel.
[Compare the celebrated description of a man perishing in the
snow, in Thomson’s inter. ]

 

  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  

 

 

a Ea EB —— zINTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH, 123

And, close beside him, in the snow,
Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe,
Couches upon his master’s breast,!
And licks his cheek to break his rest.

Who envies now the shepherd’s lot,
His healthy fare, his rural cot,
His summer couch by greenwood tree,
His rustic kirn’s? loud revelry,
His native hill-notes, tuned on high,
To Marion of the blithesome eye ;3
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 ?
Our youthful summer oft we see*
Dance by on wings of game and glee,
While the dark storm reserves its rage,
Against the winter of our age :
As he, the ancient Chief of Troy,
His manhood spent in peace and joy ;
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms,
Call’d ancient Priam forth to arms.°
Then happy those, since each must drain
His share of pleasure, share of pain,—

1 [MS.—‘‘ Couches upon his frozen breast.” ]

2 The Scottish Harvest-home.

3 [MS.—“ His native wild notes’ melody,
To Marion’s blithely blinking eye.”]

¢ [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.”}

5 [MS.—“ Call’d forth his feeble age to arme.”]124 MaRMION,

Then happy those, beloved of Heay en,

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 thon 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,!

And blessed the union of his child,

When love must change its joyous cheer,
And wipe affection’s filial tear.

Nor did the actions next his end2

Speak more the father than the friend :
Scarce had lamented Forbes3 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 :

°

1 [MS.—“ Scarce on thy bride her Sire had smiled.” ]
2 [MS.—“ But even the actions next his end,
Spoke the fond sire and faithful friend.”]

3 Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Baronet ; unequalled, perhaps;
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 Beattie,” whom he befriended and patron-
ised in 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.INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 125

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,}

For many a kindly word and deed,

To bring my tribute to his grave:

Tis little—but °tis all I have.

To thee, perchance, this rambling strain
Recalls our summer walks again ;
When, doing nought,—and, to speak true,
Not anxious to find aught to do,—
The wild unbounded hills we ranged,
While oft our talk its topic changed,
And, desultory as our way,
Ranged, unconfined, from grave to gay.
Kven 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 ;?
Thou gravely labouring to pourtray
The blighted oak’s fantastic spray ;
I spelling o’er, with much delight,
The legend of that antique knight,
Tirante by name, yclep’d the White.

1 (MS.—“ And nearer title may I plead.”}
2 [MS.—“ Our thoughts in social silence tou.”

 

Re eereree ernenteet ts weet errcetrr trast evr! Fo add

| oe
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I ;

&
ee
u126 MARMION.

At either’s feet a trusty squire,

Pandour and Camp,! with eyes of fire,
Jealous, each other’s motion’s view’d,
And scarce suppress’d their ancient feud ?
The laverock whistled from the cloud ;
The stream was lively, but not loud ;
From the white thorn the May-flower shed
Its dewy fragrance round our head:

Not Ariel lived more merrily

Under the blossom’d bough, than we.

And blithesome nights, too, have been ours.
When Winter stript the summer’s bowers.
Careless we heard what now I hear,’

The wild blast sighing deep and drear,

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,*

Who breathes the gales of Devon’s shore,

The longer miss’d, bewail’d the more ;

And thou, and I, and dear-loved R——,

And one whose name I may not say,6—

! | Camp was a favourite dog of the Poet’s, a bull terrier of ex-
traordinary sagacity. He is introduced in Raeburn’s portrait of
Sir Walter Scott, now at Dalkeith Palace. ]

2 [MS.—“ Till oft our voice suppress’d the feud.”]}
3 [MS.—“ When light we heard what now I hear.” ]

4 [Colin Mackenzie, Esq. of Portmore. See Border Minstrelsy,
vol. iv. p. 351.]

5 [Sir William Rae of St. Catherine’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 them-
selves into a little semi-military club, the meetings of which were
held at their family supper-tables in rotation. ]

6 [The late Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Bart. son of the
author of the ‘‘ Life of Beattie.” }INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FUURTH. 127

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,

Fis shoulder, hoof, and arching crest :

For, like mad Tom’s,! cur chiefest care,
Was horse to ride, and weapon wear.

Such nights we’ve had ; and, though the game*
Of manhood be more sober tame,

And though the field-day, or the drill,
Seem less important now—_yet still

Such may we hope to share again.

The sprightly thought inspires my strain !
And mark, how, like a horseman true,
Lord Marmion’s march I thus renew.

1 See King Lear.
® (14S.—“ Such nights we’ve had; and though eur garse.
Advance of years may something tame.” }MARMION.

CANTO FOURTH,

 

Che Camp.

J
Eustace, I said, did blithely mark
The first notes of the merry lark.
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew,
And loudJy Marmion’s bugles blew,
And with their light and lively call,
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall.
Whistling they came, and free of heart,
But soon their mood was changed ;
Complaint was heard on every part,
Of something disarranged.
Some clamour’d loud for armour lost ;
Some brawl’d and wrangled with the host ;
** By Becket’s bones,” cried one, “ I fear,!
That some false Scot has stolen my spear !”

 

 

 

1 [MS.—‘ ‘ By Eecket’s bones,’ cried one, ‘I swear, ”Canto IV. THE Cs MP, 129

Young Blount, Lord Marmion’s second squire,
Found his steed wet with sweat and mire ;
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 al} !
Bevis lies dying in his stall;

To Marmion who the plight dare tell,

Of the good steed he loves so well 2”__
Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw

The charger panting on his straw a

Till one, who would seem wisest, cried,—

“ What else but evil could betide,

With that cursed Palmer for our guide 2
Better we had through mire and bush

Been lantern-led by Friar Rush.” 2

II.
Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess’d
Nor wholly understood,

1 [MS.—“ The good horse panting on the straw.7~

2 Alias “ Will o’ the Wisp.” This personage ig 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, tor
some time, even the existence of such a book was doubted, although
it is expressly alluded to by Reginald Scot, in his “ Discovery of
Witcheraft.” Ihave perused a copy in the valuable library of my
friend Mr. Heber; and I observe, from Mr. Beloe’s « Anecdotes
of Literature,” that there is one in the excellent collection of the
Marquis of StaffordMARMION. Canto IV.

His comrades’ clamorous plaints suppress’d 5
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 horse.

II.

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost
Had reckon’d with their Scottish host ;
And, as the charge he cast and paid,
“ Tll 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 conjurmg band,
With English cross, and blazing brand,!
Shall drive the devils from this land,

To their infernal home:
Kor in this haunted den, I trow,
All night they trampled to and fro.”—
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.”

1 [MS.—“ With bloody cross and fiery brand.”]Canto IV. THE CAMP. 13)

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.?

IV.

The green-sward way was smooth and good,
Through Humbie’s and through Saltoun’s woud ;
A forest glade, which, varying still,
Here gave a view of dale and hill,
There narrower closed, till over head
A vaulted screen the branches made.
“ A pleasant path,” Fitz-Eustace said ,
** Such as where errant-knights might see
Adventures of high chivalry ;
Might meet some damsel flying fast,
With hair unbound, and looks aghast ;
And smooth and level course were here,
In her defence to break a spear.
Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells;
And oft, in such, the story tells,
The damsel kind, from danger freed,
Did grateful pay her champion’s meed.”
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, *
In the hall-window of his home,
Imprinted at the antique dome

Of Caxton, or de Worde.4

1 [MS.—‘“‘ They journeyed till the middle day.”]
2 [MS.—“ Upon a black and ponderous tome.” |
3 {William Caxton, the earliest English printer, wae born in132 MARMION, Canto TV.

Theiefore 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, show’d
A little woodland plain.
Just in that advantageous glade,
The halting troop a line had made,
As forth from the opposing shade
Issued a gallant train.

 

Wale
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 trump a banner wore,
Which Scotland’s royal scutcheon! bore :

Kent, a.m. 1412, and died 1491. Wynken de Worde was his next
successor in the production of those
** Rare volumes, dark with tarnish’d gold,”
which are now the delight of bibliomaniacs. ]
1 {The MS. has “ Scotland’s royal Lion” here; in line 9th.
‘scarlet tabards ;” and in line 12th, “ blazoned truncheon.”]

 

 

aoe SSS EE aii a
sa Sea 2 s adie EECanto LV. THE CAMP. 133

Heralds and pursuivants, by name

Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, 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,

VAL.

He was a man of middle age ;

In aspect manly, grave, and sage,
As on King’s errand come ;

But in the glances of his eye,

A penetrating, keen, and sly
Expression found its home ;

The flash of that satiric rage,

Which, bursting on the early stage,

Branded the vices of the age,
And broke the keys of Rome.!

On milk-white palfrey forth he paced ;

His cap of maintenance was graced
With the proud heron-plume.

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.?

» [MS.—“ The flash of that satiric rage,
Which, bursting from the early stage,
Lash’d the coarse vices of the age,” &c. |
2 [MS.—“ Silver unicorn.” This, and the seven preceding ines,
are interpolated in the blank page of the MS.]aS SS ee = = ce SSeS alii
gi Te oe arr Pa ‘Pacorpemet tenth seooer = a - +i 2S, ste a la Oe eae

 

 

 

 

 

 

SEES — ————

 

134

MARMION. Cunto TV.

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!}

VIEL

Down from his horse did Marmion spring,
Soon as he saw the Lion-King;
For well the stately Baron knew
To him such courtesy was due,
Whom royal James himself had 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?
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 lege hath deem’d it shame, and lack
Of courtesy, to turn him back ;

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 J.}
2 [ MS. —“‘ The Lion-King his message said :—
‘ My Liege hath deep and deadly swore, ” Re. |Canto IV. THE CAMP. 135

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.”

1X:
Though inly chafed at this delay,
Lord Marmion bears it as he may.
The Palmer, his mysterious guide,
Beholding thus his place supplied,
Sought to take leave in vain:
Strict was the Lion-King’s command,
That none, who rode in Marmion’s band,
Should sever from the train:
‘*¢ England has here enow of spies
In Lady Heron’s witching eyes :”
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said,
But fair pretext to Marmion made.
The right-hand path they now decline,
And trace against the stream the Tyne.

X,
At length up that wild dale they wind,
Where Crichtoun Castle! crowns the bank ;
For there the Lion’s care assigned
A lodging meet for Marmion’s rank.
That Castle rises on the steep
Of the green vale of Tyne:
And far beneath, where slow they creep,
From pool to eddy, dark and deep,
Where alders moist, and willows weep,
You hear her streams repine.?
1 [See Appendix, Note 2 K.; and, for a fuller description of
Crichton Castle, see Sir Walter Scott’s Miscellaneous Prose Werks

Vol. vii. ]
2 [MS —* Her lazy streams repine,”’]136

MARMION, Canta 1V,

The towers in different ages rose ;

Their various architecture shows
The builders’ various hands ;

A mighty mass, that could oppose,'

When deadliest hatred fired its foes,
The vengeful Douglas bands.

DOE
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,
Scutcheons of honour, or pretence,
Quartered in old armorial sort,
Remains of rude magnificence.
Nor wholly yet hathtime defaced
Thy lordly gallery fair ;
Nor vet the stony cord unbraced,
Whose twisted notes, with roses laced,
Adorn thy ruin’d stair.
Still rises unimpaired below,
The court-yard’s graceful portico ;
Above its cornice, row and row
Of fair hewn facets richly show
Their pointed diamond form,
Though there but houseless cattle go,
To shield them from the storm.
And, shuddering, still may we explore,
Where oft whilom were captives pent,

1 [MS.—“ But the huge mass could well oppose.”]
2 [MS —“ Of many a mouldering shield the sense.”Canto IV. THE CAMP, for

The darkness of thy Massy More ;!
Or, from thy grass-grown battlement,
May trace, in undulating line,
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne.

XII.
Another aspect Crichtoun show’d,
As through its portal Marmion rode;
But yet twas melancholy state
Received him at the outer gate ;
For none were in the Castle then,
But women, boys, or aged men.
With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame,
To welcome noble Marmion, came;
Her son, a stripling twelve years old,
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,?
Long may his Lady look in vain!
She ne’er shall see his gallant train,3
1 The pit, or prison vault.—[See Appendix, Note 2 Ty
2 He was the second Earl of Bothwell, and fell in the field of
Flodden, where, according to an ancient English poet, he distin-
guished himself by a furious attempt to retrieve the day :—
“Then on the Scottish part, right proud,
The Earl of Bothwell then out brast,
And stepping forth, with stomach good,
Into the enemies’ throng he thrast ;
And Bothwell! Bothwell! cried bold,
To cause his souldiers to ensue,
But there he caught a wellcome cold,
The Englishmen straight down him threw.
Thus Haburn through his hardy heart
His fatal fine in conflict found,” &c.
Flodden Field, a Poem; edited by H. Weber. Edin. 1808
3 [MS.—“ Well might his gentle Lady mourn,
Doom’d ne’er to see her Lord’s return.”]138

MARMION. Canto IV.

Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean.
*T was a brave race, before the name
Of hated Bothwell stain’d their fame.!

XITT.
And here two days did Marmion rest,
With every rite that honour claims,
Attended as the King’s own guest ;—
Such the command of Royal James,

- Who 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.?

XIV.
Tt chanced, as fell the second night,
That on the battlements they walk’d,
And, by the slowly fading light,
Of varying topics talk’d ;
And, unaware, the Herald-bard3
Said, Marmion might his toil have spared,

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.” ]

8 MS.—* Then fell from Lindesay, unaware,
That Marmion might

Marmion might well }his labour spare.” ]

i enn aeCanto IV. THE CAMP, 139

In travelling so far ;
For that a messenger from heaven
In vain to James had counsel given
Against the English war :!
And, closer question’d, thus he told
A tale, which chronicles of old
In Scottish story have enroll’d -—

XY.
Stir Babi Lintegay’s Cale.
“ Of all the palaces so fair,
Built for the royal dwelling,
In Scotland, far beyond compare
Linlithgow is excelling ;?
And in its park, in jovial June,
How sweet the merry linnet’s tune,
How blithe the blackbird’s lay !
The wild-buck bells? from ferny brake,
The coot dives merry on the lake,
The saddest heart might pleasure take
To see all nature gay.
But June is to our Sovereign dear
The heaviest mionth in all the year:
Too well his cause of grief you know,
June saw his father’s overthrow.*

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 M.]

2 [See Appendix, Note 2 N.]

3 I am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer by
another word than braying, although the latter has been sanctified
by the use of the Scottish metrical translation of the Psalms. Beli
seems to be an abbreviation of bellow. This 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.”

4 [See Appendix, Note 2 O.][40 MARMION, Canto 17.

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.!

XVI,
“ When last this ruthful month was come,
And in Linlithgow’s holy dome
The King as wont, was praying :
While, for his royal father’s soul,
The chanters sung, the bells did toll,
The Bishop mass was saying
For now the year brought round again?
The day the luckless King was slain—
In Katharine’s aisle the Monarch knelt,
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt,
And eyes with sorrow streaming ;
Around him in their stalls of state,
The Thistle’s Knight-Companions sate,
Their banners o’er them beaming.
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.

 

 

 

 

1 [MS.—« In offices as strict as Lent,
And penances his Junes are spent.”}

® [MS.—“ For now the year brought round again
The very day that he :
The day that the third James } was slain—
In Katharine’s aisle the Monarch kneels,
And folded hands ss
And hands sore clasped } show what he feels,Canto TV. THE CAMP. 14]

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,
fis solemn bearing, and his pace
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!
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,?
Her witching wiles and wanton snare,
James Stuart, doubly warn’d beware :
God keep thee as he may !?—
1[MS.—“In a low voice—but every tone
Thrill’d through the Kistener’s vein and boue.”]
2|MS.—‘‘ And if to war thou needs wilt fare

Of wanton wiles and woman’s

2
Of woman’s wiles and wanton  ;°D@Te- 3142

 

MARMIO\W. Canto TV.

The wondering Monarch seem’d to seek
For answer, and found none ;

And when he raised his head to speak,
The monitor was gone.

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 'T weed,!
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
The tale his village host had told,
At Gifford, to his train.

1 | MS.—“ But events, since I cross’d the Tweed,
Have undermined my sceptic creed.” |Canto IV, THE CAMP. 143

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,

“Tn 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.!
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 biew.
Methought an answer met my ear,—
Yet was the blast so low and drear,?
So hollow, and so faintly blown,
It might be echo of my own.

XX,
“ Thus judging, for a little space
I listen’d, ere I left the place ;
But scarce could trust my eyes,

1[MS.—‘‘In vain,” said he, ‘‘to rest I laid
My burning limbs, and throbbing head—
Fantastic thoughts returned ;
led,
And, by their wild dominion [evar
sped,
My heart within me burn’d.”]

2(MS.—“ And yet it was so low and drear.”]
K{44 MARMION. Canto TV.

Nor yet can think they served me true,
When sudden in the ring I view,
In form distinct of shape and hue,
A mounted champion rise.—
I’ve fought, Lord-Lion, many a day,!
In single fight, and 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,—?
Yet did the worst remain :
My dazzled eyes I upward cast,—
Not opening hell itself could blast
Their sight, like what I saw!

 

 

1[MS.—“T’ve been, Lord-Lion, many a day,
In combat single, or mélée.”]
® | MS.— The spectre shook his naked brand,—
Yet doth the worst remain:
My reeling eyes I upward cast,—
But opening hell could never blast
Their sight like what I saw.”}

 

 

 

Se re ———~ aoa 5 SS eeCanto LV, THE CAMP, 145

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,
T saw the face of one who, fled,!
To foreign climes, has long been dead,—
I well believe the last ;
For ne’er, from yizor 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.__
*"T'were long to tell what cause I haye
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.
Marvell’d Sir David of the Mount ;
Then, learn’d in story, ’gan recount

1 [MS.—“I Imew the face of one long dead,
Or who to foreign climes hath Hed.

I knew the face of one who fled
To foreign climes, or long since dead—
I well may judge the last *]146 MARMION. Canto TV

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.!

And yet, whate’er such legends say,
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay,

On mountain, moor, or plain,
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold,?

True son of chivalry should hold

These midnight terrors vain ;

For seldom have such spirits power
To harm, save in the evil hour,
When guilt we meditate within,?

Or harbour unrepented sin.”—

Lord Marmion 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,

4 See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spectre callel
Lhamdearg, or Bloody-hand, in a note on Canto iii. [Appendix
Note 2 H.]

2 [MS.—<“ Of spotless faith, and bosom bold.”
8 {MS.—“ When mortals meditate within
Fresh guilt, or unrepented sin. ’ |Canto IV. THE CAMP, 147

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.

XXITI.
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.

OXI:
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.148 MARMION. Canto IF

OVE

But different far the change has been,!
Since Marmion, from the crown

Of Blackford, saw that martial scene
Upon the bent so brown -

Thousand pavilions, white as snow,

Spread all the Borough-moor below,2
Upland, and dale, and down :-__

A thousand did I say ? I ween,3

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 ;4

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 from the southern Redswire edge,
To farthest Rosse’s rocky ledge ;

1 [MS.—“ But, oh! far different change has been
Since Marmion, from the crown
Of Bla kford-hill, upon the scene
Of Scotland’s war look’d down.” J

2 See Appendix, Note 2 P.

3 [MS.—“ A thousand said the verse? I ween,
Thousands on thousands there were scen,
That whitened all the heath between." ]

« [Here ends the stanza in the MS.]Cunto IV THE CAMP. 149

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.

XX VIF
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,}
And culverins which France had given.
Tll-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 ;
Various in shape, device. and hue,
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue,
Broad, narrow, swallow-tail’d, and square,
Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol,? there

1 Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick.
2 Fach of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of
those entitled to display them.[50 MARMION, Canto IV

O’er the pavilions flew.!
Highest, and midmost, was descried
The royal banner floating wide ;
_ The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight,?
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

XXIX.
Lord Marmion view’d the landscape bright,—4
He view’d it with a chief’s delight,—
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.

1 |See Appendix, Note 2 Q.]

2 [MS.—“ The standard staff, a mountain pine,
Pitch’d in a huge memorial stone,
That still in monument is shown.”]

3 The well-known armsof 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, contemporary of Charle-
magne, 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) associated with himself in the important
duty of governing some part of the north-eastern coast of Scotland,

# [MS.— Lord Marmion’s large dark eye flash’d light,
It kindled with a chief’s delight,
For glow’d with martial joy bis heart,
As upon battle-day.”}

EES ALESCanto IV. THE CAMP, 15}

“ 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,}
Than rise, perchance to fall.”

XXX.
Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay’d,
For fairer scene he ne’er survey’d.
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.

4 [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. |152 MARMION. Canta Ty.

Such dusky grandeur clothed the height,
Where the huge Castle holds its state,

And all the steep slope down,

Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massy, close and high,

Mine own romantic town !!

But northward far, with purer blaze,
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,

And as each heathy top they 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,
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 ;2
Nor Marmion’s frown repress’d his glee,

 

 

XXXT.
Thus while they look’d, a flourish proud,
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud,
And fife, and kettle-drum,

 

 

 

1 [MS.—“ Dun-Edin’s tower and town.”]
2 [MS.—“ The Lion smiled his joy to see.’”}

anaesCanto LV. THE CAMP. 155

And sackbut deep, and psaltery,
And war-pipe with discordant Ch,
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 :!
* Thus clamour still the war-notes when
The King to mass his way has ta’en,
Or to St. Katharine’s of Sienne,?
Or Chapel of St. Rocque.
To you they speak of martial fame ;5
But me remind of peaceful game,
When blither was their cheer,
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare, .
But strive which foremost might repair
To the downfall of the deer.

XXXII.

* Nor less,” he said,— when looking forth,
I view yon Empress of the North

Sit on her hilly throne ;
Her palace’s imperial bowers,
Her castle, proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls and holy towers—4

Nor less,” he said, “ I moan,

1 [MS.—“ And thus the Lion spoke.”]
# |MS.—“ Or to our Lady’s of Sienne.”]
8 [MS.—“ To you they speak of martial fame,
To me of mood more mild and tame—
Blither would be their cheer.”]
4 [{MS.—“ Her stately funes and holy towers.”154 MARMION Canto IV

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 !*
Lord Marmion, I say nay :
God is the guider of the field,
He breaks the champion’s spear and shiela,-—
But thou thyself shalt say,
When joins yon host in deadly stowre,
That England’s dames must weep in bower,
Her monks the death-mass sing ;?
For never saw’st thou such a power
Led on by such a King.”—
And now, down winding to the plain,
The barriers of the camp they gain,
And there they made a stay.—
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling
His hand o’er every Border string,
And fit his harp the pomp to sing,
Of Scotland’s ancient Court and King,
In the succeeding lay.

 

 

1(MS.—“ Dream of a conquest cheaply bought.”’]
2 [MS.—“ Their monks dead masses sing. *’]MARMION.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH.

TO

GEORGE ELLIS, Esa.

Edinburgh,

WueEn 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,

And hang, in idle trophy, near,

The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear ,

1 [This accomplished gentleman, the well-known coadjutor of
Mr. Canning and Mr. Frere in the “ Antijacobin,” and editor of
<< Specimens of Ancient English Romances,” &c., died 10th April,
1815, aged 70 years; being succeeded in his estates by his brother.
Charles Ellis, Esq., created, in 1827, Lord Seaford.—ED., }156

MARMION.

When wiry terrier, rough and grim,
And greyhound, with his length of limb,
And pointer, now employed no more,
Cumber our parlour’s narrow floor ;
When in his stall the impatient steed
Is long 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 Springs
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 eist by Newark’s riven towers,
And Ettrick stripp’d of forest bowers !
True,—Caledonia’s Queen is changed,?
Since on her dusky summit ranged,

1 See Introduction to Canto ii.

® 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 theINTRODUCTION ‘TO CANTO FIFTH. P57.

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.}
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.

vourse 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.

1 Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed
it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning,
from a chorus in ‘‘ Caractacus :”—

‘¢ Britain heard the descant bold,

She flung her white army o’er the sea,
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold

The freight of harmony.”158 MARMION,

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,
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.?
The sight could jealous pangs beguile,
And charm Malbecco’s cares awhile ;
And he, the wandering Squire of Dames,
Forgot his Columbella’s claims,
And passion, erst unknown, could gain
The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane ;
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,

 

 

1 See “‘ The Fairy Queen,” book iii. canto ix.

 

2 “ For every one her liked, and every one her loved.
SPENSER, as above.INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 159

As stately seem’st, but lovelier far

Than in that panoply of war.

Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne
Strergth 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,—
Renown’d for hospitable deed,

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

Refuge of injured royalty ;

Since first, when conquering York arose,
To Henry meek she gave repose,}!

Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe,
Great Bourbon’s relics, sad she saw.?

1 See Appendix, Note 2 R.

2 [In January 1796, the exiled Count d’ Artois, afterwards Charles
X. of France, took up his residence in Holyrood, where he remain-
ed unti] August 1799. When again driven from his country, by

L160 MARMION.

Truce to these thoughts !—for, as they rise,
How gladly I avert mine eyes,
Bodings, or true or faise, 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,}
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,?

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.
1 [MS.—‘“‘ Than gaze out on the foggy fen.’’}

£ Mr. Ellis, in his valuable Introduction to the ‘“‘ Specimens of
Romance,” has proved, by the concurring testimony of La Ravail-
lere, Tressan, but especially the Abbé 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 originals, and transla-
ted 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 FIFYR. 161

Famed Beauclere call’d, for that he loved
The minstrel, and his lay approved ?
Who shall these lingering notes redeem,
Decaying on Oblivion’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 Ex.is! to the bard impart

A lesson of thy magic art,

To win at once the head and heart,—
At once to charm, instruct, and mend,
My guide, my pattern, and my friend !2

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,—

1 [* Come then, my friend, my genius, come along,
Oh master of the poet and the song!”
Pore to BOLINGBROKE. |162 MARMION.

With even patience to endure
Lingering disease, and painful cure,
And boast affliction’s pangs subdued
By mild and manly fortitude.
Enough, the lesson has been given :
Forbid the repetition, Heaven!

Come listen, then! for thou hast known,
And loved the Minstrel’s varying tone,
Who, like his Border sires of old,
Waked a wild measure rude and bold,
Till Windsor’s oaks, and Ascot plain,
With wonder heard the northern strain.
Come listen ! bold in thy applause,

The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws ;
And, as the ancient art could stain
Achievements on the storied pane,
Irregularly traced and plann’d,

But yet so glowing and so grand, —

So shall he strive, in changeful hue,
Field, feast, and combat to renew,

And loves, and arms, and harpers’ glee,
And all the pomp of chivalry.

 

1 (At Sunning-hill, Mr. Ellis’s seat, near Windsor, pnit of the
first two cantos of Marmion were written. |

 

 

 

 

ee ne a aaasaemscieeinaal Se = : : afta Q = Pa
ms oceemes Teer ee Ce er re Sere ee : ae = a Pe Baf 163) |

MARMION,

CANTO FIFTH.

he Caurt.

Te
Tue 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.!

Fast ran the Scottish warriors there,
Upon the Southern band to stare.

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.” ]164 MARMION, Canto V.

Anda envy with their wonder rose,

To see such well-appointed foes ;

Such length of shafts, such mighty bows,!
So huge, that many simply thought,

But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ;
And little deem’d their force to feel,
Through links of mail, and plates of stee!,
When rattling upon Flodden vale,

The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail.?

TI,

Nor less did Marmion’s skilful view,
Glance every line and squadron through ;
And much he marvell’d 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,®
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein,

Each warlike feat to show,

 

1 [MS.—“ Se long their shafts, so large their bows.”’}

2 This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties of
England, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraordinary
length were actually used. Thus, at the battle of Blackheath,
between the troops of Henry VII. and the Cornish insurgents, in
1496, the bridge of Dartford was defended by a picked band of
archers from the rebel army, ‘‘ whose arrows,’ says Hollinshed,
“ were in length a full cloth yard.” The Scottish, according to
Asciam, had a proverb, that every English archer carried under
his belt twenty-four Scots, in allusion to his bundle of unerring
shafts.

3 [MS.—“ There urged their chargers on the plain.”Canto V. THE COURT 165

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,

And high curvett, that not in vain

The sword sway might descend amain
On foeman’s casque below.!

He saw the hardy burghers there

March arm’d, on foot, with faces bare.?
For vizors 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,

And many wielded mace of weight,
And bucklers bright they bore.

Te

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,*
A crossbow there, a hagbut here,

A dagger-knife, and brand.

1 See Appendix, Note 2 S.

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 hats, i.e. bright steel
eaps, without crest or visor. By an act of James IV. their wea
pon-schawings are appointed to be held four times a-year, under
the aldermen or bailiffs.

2 [MS.—“ And mails did many { Wield Y of weight.)

J
4 See Appendix, Note 2 T166

MARMION, Canto V.

Sober he seem’d, and sad of cheer,

As loth to leave his cottage dear,

And march to foreign strand ;

Or musing, who would guide his steer,
To till the fallow land.

Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye

Did aught of dastard terror lie;
More dreadful far his ire,

Than theirs, who, scorning danger’s namo,

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.

These, as Lord Marmion’s train pass’d by,

Look’d on at first with careless eye,

SEN STSCanto V. THE C( URT. 167

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, Ringan! seest thou there!
Canst guess the road they'll homeward ride ?_
O! could we but on Border side,

By Eusedale glen, or Liddell’s tide,

Beset a prize so fair!

That fangless Lion, too, their guide,
Might chance to lose his glistering hide ;-
Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied,

Could make a kirtle rare.”

N.

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
I'he chequer’d trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes their war-pipes bray’d,

To every varying clan;
Wild through their red or sable hair
Jook’d out their eyes with savage stare,?

1 [MS.—“ Hist, Ringan! 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. ”}
2 | MS.—‘‘ Wild from their red and swarthy hair
Look’d through their eyes with savage stare.”’]168

MARMION. Canto V.

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 bung 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 Islesmen 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.

VI.
Thus through the Scottish camp they pass’é,
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.Canto V. THE COURT. 169

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,! 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,

And then to Holy-Rood must ride,—
Such was the King’s behest.

Méanwhile the Lion’s care assigns

A banquet rich, and costly wines,

= To Marmion and his train ;?

1 Followmg—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. |

2 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 preface 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 ms wine from the King,
both white and red.”—Clifford’s Edition, p. 38MARMION, Canto V.

And when the appointed hour succeeds,

The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,

And following Lindesay as he leads,
The palace-halls they gain.

NE
Old Holy-Rood 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,
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,
Tre 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 powerCanto V. THE COURT. i

O’er coldness and disdain ;
And flinty is her heart, can view
To battle march a lover true—
Can hear, perchance, his last adicu,
Nor own her share of pain.

Vall.
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 doff’d, to Marmion bending low,
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,?
Descended from a haldric bright ;
White were his buskins, on the heel
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel ;

1 [MS.—“ Bearing the badge of Scotland’s crown.”
2 [MS.—“ His trusty blade, Toledo right,
Descended froin a baldric bright,
And dangled at his knee:
White were his buskins; from their heel
His spurs inlaid
TW Pied spurs hot gold and stcel
Were jingling merrily.” ]MARMION, Canto V.

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,

His short curl’d beard and haiy.
Light was his footstep in the dance,
Aud firm his stirrup in the lists ;

And, oh! he had that merry giance,

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,

Tf, 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.}

Kven 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 :

1 See Appendix, Note 2UCanto V. THE COURT 172

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.

Dae
O’er James’s heart, the courtiers say,
Sir Hugh the Heron’s wife held sway :!
To Scotland’s Court she came,
To be a hostage for her lord,
Who Cessford’s gallant heart had gored,
And with the King to make accord,
Had sent his lovely dame.
Nor to that lady free alone
Did the gay King allegiance own;
For the fair Queen of France
Sent him a turquois ring and glove,
And charged him, as her knight and love,
For her to break a lance;
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand,?
And march three miles on Southron land,
And bid the banners of his band
In English breezes dance.

1 See Appendix, Note 2X.

2 “ Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the King
of Scotland, calling him her love, showing him that she had suf-
fered 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 hersake. To that effect she sent him a ring off her
finger, with fourteen thousand French crowns to pay his expenses.”
PITScoTTI£, p. 110.—A turquois ring; probably this fatal gift is,
with James’s sword and dagger, preserved in the College of Heralds.
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MARMION, Canto V.

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,!

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.

XT,
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,
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.2

1 [MS.—“‘ Nor France’s Queen, nor England's fair,
Were worth one pearl-drop, passing rare,
From Margaret's eyes that fell.)
2 [The MS. has only—
** For, all for heat, was laid aside
Her whimpled hood and gorget’s pride:Canto V. THE COURT, 175

And first she pitch’d her voice to sing,
Then glanced her dark eve 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,}
Lavy Weran’s Sang.

O, 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.

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 N etherby 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.

And on the righted harp with glee,

Mingled with arch simplicity,

A soft, yet lively air she rang,

While thus her voice attendant sang.” ]

1 The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded on
& ballad called ‘‘ Katharine Janfarie,” which may be found in the
‘« Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” [vot ii.1 =
M176 MARMION. Canto V

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 ?”—

*¢ 1] long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied ;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tideAL!
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.”

Vhe 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.

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 his 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, “ "I'were better by far

To have match’d our fair cousin with young Lochinvar *

 

 

 

 

 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
W hen they reach’d the hall-door, and the charger stood
near ;
i [See the novel of Redgauntiet, for a detailed picture of some

of the extraordinary phenomena of the spring-tides in the So] way
Frith. ]Canto JV. THE COURT. 177

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 Gremes of the Netherby
clan :

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they
ran:

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see,

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

ITE:
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 feign’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.

ices aa aa — =178 MARMION. Canto V.

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 vessels ta’en—
Unworthy were we here to reign,

Should these for vengeance cry in vain 5
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,

Our herald has to Henry borne.”

XIV.

He paused, and led where Douglas stood.
And with stern eye the pageant view’d :
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Who coronet of Angus bore,
And, when his blood and heart were high,
Did the third James in camp defy,
And all his minions led to die

On Lauder’s dreary flat :
Princes and favourites long grew tame,
And trembled at the homely name

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat ;?
The same who left the dusky vale
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale,

Tts dungeons, and its towers,
Where Bothwell’s turrets brave the air,
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair,

To fix his princely bowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 [MS.—“ And. when his blood and heart were high,
King James’s minions led to die,
On Lauder’s dreary flat.”?
2 [MS.—Bell-the-Cat, see Appendix, Note 2 Y¥.|

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Though now, in age, he had laid down

His armour tor the peaceful gown,
And for a staff his brand,

Vet often would flash ferth 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 moed,
Against the war had Angus stood,

And chafed his royal Lord.!

De Ve

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—Return to Lindisfarne,

Until my herald come again.—

? Angus was an old man when the war against England was re-
solved upon. He earnestly spoke against that measure from its
commencement; and, on the eve of the battle of Flodden, remon-
strated 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 areligious house, where he died
about 2 year after the field of Flodden-

“Be
1
F]
riMARMION. Canto V

Then rest you on Tantallon Hold ;*
Your host shall be the Douglas bold,—
A chief unlike his sires of old.

He wears their motto on his blade,?
Their blazon o’er his towers 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®
A prize, the first fruits of the war,
Ta’en by a galley from Dunbar,

A bevy of the maids of Heayen.
Under your guard, these holy maids
Shall safe return to cloister shades,
And, while they at Tantallon stay,
Requiem for Cochran’s soul may say.”
And, with the 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 wellnigh 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,*
Angus, my hasty speech forgive !
For sure as doth his spirit live,

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 Z.]
2 [See Appendix, Note 3 A.]
3 [MS.—“< But yester morn was hither driven.”]
4 | The two next lines are not in the original MS.Canto V, THE COURT, 181

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 hota
More tender and more true: !
Forgive me, Douglas, once again.”
And while the eae his hand did Sean
The old man’s teas fell down like rain.
To seize the moment Marmion tried,
And whisper’d to the King aside:
“OQ! 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.2
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!”

xOVaiIE
Displeased was James, that stranger view’d
And tamper’d with his changing mood.
“‘ Laugh those that can, weep those that may,”
Thus did the fiery Monaren say,
“ Southward I march by break of dav :
And if within Tantallon strong,
The good Lord Marmion tarries long,
Perchance our meeting next may fall
At Tamworth, in his castle-hall.”_

a

= “0, Dowglas! Dowglas !
Tendir and trew.”
The Hoilate.
£]|MS.— ‘A maid to see her love depart.””}182

MARMION. Canto V.

The haughty Marmion felt the taunt,

And answer’d, grave, the royal vaunt :

“¢ Much honour’d were my humble home,
If in its hall King James should come;
But Nottingham has archers good,

And Yorkshire men are stern of mood ;
Northumbrian prickers wild and rude.

On Derby Hills the paths are steep ;

In Ouse ané 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 1"—
The Monarch lightly turn’d away,

And to his nobles loud did call,—

“ Lords, to the dance,—a hall! a hal] !°°2
Himself his cloak and sword flung by,
And led Dame Heron gallantly ;

And minstrels, at the royal order,

Rung out—“ Blue Bonnets o’er the Border.”

XVIII.

Leave we these revels now, to 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,

' The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant.Canto V. THE COURT, 183

Again to English land.
The Abbess told her chaplet o’er,
Nor knew which Saint she should implore ;
For, when she thought of Constance, sore
She 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,

rheir lodging, so the King assign’d,

To Marmion’s, as their guardian, join’d 5

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.184

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 moon-beam 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.

XO:
*° O, holy Palmer !” she began,—
“* For sure he must be sainted man,

' Whose blessed feet have trode the ground

Where the Redeemer’s tomb is foun de
For his dear Church’s sake, my tale
Attend, nor deem of light ayail.

Though I must speak of worldly love._
How vain to those who wed above !__Canto V. THE COURT. 185

De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo’d
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,}
When he came here on Simnel’s part ;
And only cowardice did restrain

His rebel aid on Stokefield’s plain,—
And down he threw his glove :—the thing
Was tried, as wont, before the King ;
Where frankly did De Wilton own,
That Swart in Guelders he had known ;
And that between them then there went
Some scroll of courteous compliment.

For this he to his castle sent ;

But when his messenger 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!

1 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 pre
served by that of the field of battle, which ig called, after him,
Swart-moor.—There were songs about him long current in Eng-
land.—See Dissertation prefixed to Ritson’s Ancient Songs, 1792
Do ix:186

MARMION. Canto }".

Perchance some form was unonserved :
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ;!
Else how could guiltless champion quail,
Or how the blessed ordeal fail ?

XXII.
“ His squire, who now De Wilton saw
As recreant 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 ;
Oniy one trace of earthly strain,
That for her lover's loss
She cherishes a sorrow vain,
And murmurs at the cross.—
And then her heritage ;—it goes
Along the banks of Tame ;
Deep fields of grain the reaper mo Ws,
In meadows rich the heifer lows,
The falconer and huntsman knows
Its woodlands for the game.
1 See Appendix, Note 3 B,Canto V. THE COURT. 187

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.

XX:
«* 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 Gea!
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,—
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 :188

MARMION. Canto V.

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.

XXIV.
***T'were 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 2—

O, blessed Saint, if e’er again

I yenturous leave thy calm domain,

To travel or by land or main,
Deep penance may I pay !—

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer:

I give this packet to thy care,

For thee to stop they will not dare ;
And O! with cautious speed,

To Wolsey’s hand the papers bring,

That he may 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,Canto V. THE COURT 189

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 !”—

XXYV.
Dun-Edin’s Cross, a pillar’d stone,!
Rose on a turret octagon ;
(But now is razed that monument,
Whence royal edict rang,
And voice of Scotland’s law was sent
In glorious trumpet-clang.
O! be his tomb as lead to lead,
Upon its dull destroyer’s head !—
A minstrel’s malison? is said.5)—
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
Discern of sound or mien.

|
i

1 |MS.— Dun-Edin’s Cross, a pillar’d stone,
Rose on turret hexagon ;
(Dust unto dust, lead unto lead,
On its destroyer’s drowsy \nead me
Upon its base destroyer’s :
‘The Minstrel’s malison is said.)’’]

2 7. e. Curse.

8 See Appendix, Note 2 C.

<A RaaeR RET a Is190

MARMION.

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 :—*

ROX i.
“* Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,
Whose names I now shall call,
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!
Subjects of him who sent me here,
At his tribunal to appear,
I summon one and all:
T 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,?
By each o’er-mastering passion’s tone,
By the dark grave, and dying groan !
When forty days are pass’d and gone,?
I cite you, at your Monarch’s throne,
To answer and appear.”

1 See Appendix, Note 3 D.
2(MS.—“ By wrath, by fraud, by fear.”17
8 [MS.—“< Ere twenty days are pass’d and gone,
Before the mighty Monarch’s throne,
1 cite you to appear.”’]

Camo V.Canto V. THE COURT, 191

Then thunder’d forth a roll of names :—

The first was thine, unhappy James!
Then all thy nobles came ;

Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle,

Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,—

Why should I tell their separate style ?
Each chief of birth and fame,

Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,

Fore-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 gone.

Prone on her face the Abbess fell,

And fast, and fast, her beads did tell ;

Her nuns came, startled by the yell,
And found her there alone.

She mark’d not, at the scene aghast,

What time, or how, the Palmer pass’d.

|
I

|
|
|
i

Serer

XX VE.
Shift we the scene.—The camp doth move,
Dun-Edin’s streets are empty now,

» _MS.—" In thundering tone the voice did say.”}
N{92

MARMION. Canto V.

Save when, for weal of those they love,
To pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
The tottering child, the anxious fair,
The grey-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,

W ould first his mettle bold provoke,
Then soothe or quell his pride.

Old Hubert said, that never one

He saw, except Lord Marmion,
A steed so fairly ride.

XXVITTI.
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.Tanto V, THE COURT. 1y;

No audience had Lord Marmicn 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.
Tf e’er he Jov’d, *twas her alone,
Who died within that vault of stone.

X XIX.
And now, when close at hand they saw
North Berwick’s town, and lofty Law,}
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while,
Before a venerable pile,?

? [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 Dunean, Earl of Fife, in 1216.MARMION. Canto FV.

Whose turrets view’d, afar,
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle,’
The ocean’s peace or war.
At tolling of a bell, forth came
The convent’s venerable Dame,
And 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’erjoy’d the nuns their palfreys leave ,
But when fair Clara did intend,
Like them, from horseback to descen‘1,
Fitz-Eustace said,— I grieve,
Fair lady, grieve e’en from my heart,
Such gentle company to part ;—
Think not discourtesy,
But lords’ commands must be 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 5
But she, at whom the blow was aim’d,

1 {MS.—* The lofty Bass the Lamb’s green isle.””]Canto V. fHE COURT. 195

Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,—
She deem’d she heard her death-doom read.
“ Cheer thee, my child!” the Abbess said,
“ They dare not tear thee from my hand,
To ride alone with armed band.”

“¢ Nay, holy mother, nay,”
Fitz-Eustace said, “ the lovely Clare
Will be in Lady Angus’ care,

In Scotland while we stay ;

And, when we moye, an easy ride
Will bring us to the English side,
Female attendance to provide
Befitting Gloster’s heir ;
Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord,
By slightest look, or act, or word
To harass Lady Clare.
Her faithful guardian he will be,
Nor sue for slightest courtesy

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 inyeigh’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 ;MARMION. Canto F.

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
Drove the Monks forth of Coventry,

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

1 This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de Marmion,
in the reign of King Stephen, whom William of Newbury describes
with some attributes of my fictitious hero: Homo bellicosus, ferocia,
et astucia, fere nuilo suo tempore impar.” This Baron, having ex-
pelled 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, Marmion’s horse fell, as he charged in the van of his
troop, against a body of the Earl’s followers: the rider’s thigh
being broken by the fall, his head was cut off by a common foot-
soldier, ere he could receive any succour. The whole story is told
by William of Newbury.Canto V. VHE CURT. 197

Even such weak minister as me
May the oppressor bruise:
For thus, inspired, did Judith slav
The mighty in his sin,
And Jael thus, and Deborah”
Here hasty Blount broke in:
““ Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band ;
St Anton’ fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day, with bonnet in thy hand,
To hear the Lady preach ?
By this good light ! if thus we stay,
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,
Will sharper sermon teach.
Come, d’on thy cap, and mount thy horses
The Dame must patience take perforce.”

 

XT,
‘* 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,}
Where even a homicide might come,
And safely rest his head,
Though at its open portals stood,
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blowd.
The kinsmen of the dead ;

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.—Ep, |jO% MARMION Canio V

Yet one asylum is my own
Against the dreaded hour ;

A low, a silent, and a lone,
Where kings have little power.

One victim is before me there.—-

Mother, your blessing, and in prayer

Remember your unhappy Clare !”

Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows
Kind blessings many a one:

Weeping and wailing loud arose,

Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes
Of every simple nun.

His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,

And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.
Then took the squire her rein,

And gently led away her steed,

And, by each courteous word and deed,
To cheer her strove in vain.

 

XXXII.
But scant three miles the band had rode,
When o’er a height they pass’d,
And, sudden, close before them show’d
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.}
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong.
Through studded gates, an entrance long,
To the main court they cross.
1 [See Appendix, Note 3 E.}Canto V. THE COURT, 189

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
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

W ould 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.—200 MARMION, Canto V,

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,
Hath ’bated of his courtesy :
No longer in his halls I’) stay.”
Then bade his band they should array
For march against the dawning day.207]

MARMION.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.

BO)

RICHARD HEBER, Esa.

Mertoun-ITouse Chrisimus,

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 Iol more deep the mead did drain ;?
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew ;

Then in his low and pine-built hall,
Where shields and axes deck’d the wall,

1] Mertoun-House, the seat of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden. is
beautifully situated on the Tweed, about two miles below Dry-
burgh Abbey. }

2 {See Appendix, Note 3 F.)202

MAKMION.

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 recal

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.)

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 misletoe.

Then open’d wide the Baron’s hall

To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ;

Power laid his rod of rule aside,

And Ceremony doff’d his pride.

The heir, with roses in his shoes,

That night might village partner choose ;
1 "See Appendix, Note 3 GINTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 203

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.’

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 Scotland to produce,

At such high tide, her savoury goose.
Then came the merry maskers in,

And carols roar’d with blithesome din ;

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.”)204

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MARMION,

[f unmelodious was the song,

It was a hearty note and strong.

Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery ;!

White shirts supplied the masquerade,

And smutted cheeks the visors made;

But, O! what maskers, richly dight,

Can boast of bosoms half go light !

England was merry England, when

Old Christmas brought his sports again.
"Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale;
*T'was 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 vallevs here,

We hold the kindred title dear,

Even when, perchance, its far-fetch’d claiin
To Southron ears sounds empty name;
For course of blood, our proverbs deem,
Is warmer than the mountain-stream.?
And thus, my Christmas still I hold,
Where my great-grandsire came of old,
With amber beard, and flaxen hair,3
And reverend apostolic air

The feast and holy-tide to share,

And mix sobriety with wine,

And honest mirth with thoughts divine.

* See Appendix, Note 3 H,

2 « Blood is warmer than water,”—a proverb meant to vindi-
cate our family predilections,

3 See Appendix, Note 3IINTRODUCTION TO CANTY SIXTH, 205

Small thought was his, in after time
Her 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 !
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.?
Little we heed the tempest drear,
While music, mirth, and social cheer,
Speed on their wings the passing year.
And Mertoun’s halls are fair e’en now,
When not a leaf is on the bough.
Tweed loves them well, and turns again,
As loath to leave the sweet domain,
And holds his mirror to her face,
And clips her with a close embrace :—
Gladly as he, we seek the dome,
And as reluctant turn us home.

How just that, at this time of glee,
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee !
For many a merry hour we’ve known,
And heard the chimes of midnight’s tone.?

1 [MS.—‘ In these fair halls, with merry cheer,
Is bid farewell the dying year.” }
® (See Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. iv. p. 5Y.]
3 [The MS. adds:—
ss As boasts old Shallow to Sir Johe “JMARMICN,

Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease,
And leave these classic tomes in peace t
Of Roman and of Grecian lore,

Sure mortal brain can hold no more.
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say,
Were pretty fellows in their day ;"?

But time and tide o’er all prevail—

On Christmas eve a Christmas tale—
Of wonder and of war—* Profane!
What! leave the lofty Latian strain,
Her stately prose, her verse’s charms,
To hear the clash of rusty arms:

In Fairy Land or Limbo lost,

To jostle conjurer and ghost,

Goblin and witch !__Nay, Heber dear,
Before you touch my charter, hear ;
Though Leyden aids, alas! no more,
My cause with many-languaged lore,”
This may I say :—in realms of death
Ulysses meets Alcides’ wraith ;

1 <‘ Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir—a very pretty fellow in
his day.”—Old Bachelor.

2 [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 36th year.

““ Scenes sung by him who sings no more!
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 LeypeEn’s cold remains.”

Lord of the Isles, Canto IV. vol. x.

See a notice of his life in the Author’s Miscellaneous Prose
Works. vol. iv. ]INTRODUCLION TO CANTO SIXTH. 207

fEneas, upon Thracia’s shore,

The ghost of murder’d Polydore;
For omens, we in Livy cross,

At every turn, locutus Bos.

As grave and duly speaks that ox,
As if he told the price of stocks ;
Or held, in Rome republican,
The place of Common-councilman.

All nations have their omens drear,
Their legends wild of woe and fear.
To Cambria look—the peasant see,
Bethink him of Glendowerdy,

And shun “ the spirit’s Blasted Tree.”
The Highlander, whose red claymore
The battle turn’d on Maida’s shore,
Will, on a Friday morn, look pale,

If ask’d to tell a fairy tale :?

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
Beneath the towers of Franchémont,
Which, like an eagle’s nest in air,
Hang o’er the stream and hamlet fair ?4
Deep in their vaults, the peasants say,
A mighty treasure buried lay,

1 [See Appendix, Note 3 K.]
2 (See Appendix, Note 3 L.]
3 | This paragraph appears interpolated on the blank page ot
the MS.]
4 [MS.—“ Which, high in air, like eagle’s nest,
Hang from the dizzy mountain’s breast.’’]
oO208

MARMION.

Amass’d through rapine and through wrong
By the last Lord of Franchémont.?

The iron chest is bolted hard,

A Huntsman sits, its constant guard ;
Around his neck his horn is hung,

His hanger in his belt is slung ;

Before his feet his blood-hounds lie:

An “twere not for his gloomy eye,

Whose withering glance no heart can brook
As true a huntsman doth he look,

As bugle e’er in brake did sound,

Or ever 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 ;
1 See Appendix, Note 3 M.]a

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 209

Whose gossip history has given

My song the messenger from Heavyen,!
That warn’d, in Lithgow, Scotland’s King,
Nor less the infernal summoning ;?

May pass the Monk of Durham’; 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.

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 M.]
2 [The four lines which follow are not in the MS.1[210 |

MARMION.

CANTO SIXTH.

Whe Battle.

I,
WHILE great events were on the gale,
And each hour brought a varying tale,
And the demeanour, changed and cold,
Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold.
And, like the impatient steed of war,
He snuff’d 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,a

Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 21)

And all in high Baronial pride,—

A life both dull and dignified ;—

Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press’d
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.

Il.
I said, Tantallon’s dizzy steep
Hung o’er the margin of the deep.
Many a rude tower and rampart there
Repell’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 cognizance of Douglas blood.
The turret held a narrow stair,}
Which, mounted, gave you access where
A parapet’s embattled row
Did seaward round the castle go.
Sometimes in dizzy steps descending,
Sometimes in narrow circuit bending,
Sometimes in platform broad extending,
Its varying circle did combine
Bulwark, and bartisan, and line,
And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign ;

4 {MS.—“ The tower contain’d a narrow stair,
And gave an open access where.” ]212

MARMION. Canto VI.

Above the booming ocean leant

The far-projecting battlement ;

The billows burst, in ceaseless flow,
Upon the precipice below.

Where’er Tantallon faced the land,
Gate-works, and walls, were strongly 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.

Iil.

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-grey 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,
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 ,canto VI. THE BATTLE. 213

Of holy ornament, alone
Remain’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,}
With book in hand, and cross on breast,
And such a woeful mien.
Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow,
To practice on the gull and crow,
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow,
And did by Mary swear,—
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been.
Or, in Romance, some spell-bound Queen ;
For ne’er, in work-day world, was seen
A form so witching fair.?

IV.
Once walking thus, at evening tide,
It chanced a gliding sail she spied,
And, sighing, thought —“ The Abbess, there,
Perchance, does to her home repair ;
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,

1 [MS.—“ To meet a form so fair, and dress’d
In antique robes, with cross on breast.” }
2 [MS.—“ A form so sad and fair.”]214

MARMION. Canto V1.

That the enraptured sisters see

High vision, and deep mystery ;

The very form of Hilda fair,

Hovering upon the sunny air,

And smiling on her votaries’ prayer.!

O! wherefore, to my duller eye,

Did still the Saint her form deny !

Was it, that, sear’d by sinful scorn,

My heart could neither melt nor burn ?
Or lie my warm affections low,

With him, that taught them first to glow ?
Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew,

To pay thy kindness grateful due,

And well could brook the mild command,
That ruled thy simple maiden band.

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 Red De Clare, stout Gloster’s Ear! :
Of such a stem, a sapling weak,?

He ne’er shall bend, although he break.

V.
But see !__what makes this armour here 2”.
For in her path there lay
Targe, corslet. helm ;—-she view’d them near—
* The breast-plate pierced !__Ay, much I fear

7 [See Appendix, Note 3N |
2 [MS.—* Ofsuch a stem, or branch, weak,
He ne’er shall bend me, though he break.” ]

though
80ea

Canto VI. THE BATTLE.

Weak fence wert thou ’gainst foeman’s spear,
That hath made fatal entrance here,

As these dark blood-gouts say.—
Thus Wilton !__Oh ! not corslet’s ward,
Not truth, as diamond pure and hard,
Could be thy manly bosom’s guard,

On yon disastrous day !”—

She raised her eyes in mournful mood,—
WizTon 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 display’d :

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 delay’d,}

1[MS.—*‘ By many a short caress delay’d.”

 

215216

MARMION. : Cante Vi,

And modest blush, and bursting sigh,
And question kind, and fond reply :—

NI.
Be Wiltows Wistoryp.
“ Forget we that disastrous day,
When senseless in the lists I lay.
Thence drage’d,—but how I cannot know,
For sense and recollection fled,—

I found me on a pallet low,

Within my ancient beadsman’s shed.!
Austin,—remember’st thou, my Clare,
How thou didst blush, when the old man,

When first our infant love began,

Said we would make a matchless pair ?—
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled
From the degraded traitor’s bed,?—

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.

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 ;

1 [MS.—“ Where an old beadsman held my head.”7

8 | MS.—‘“‘ The banish’d traitor’s ee } beaoe

Canto VI. THE BATTLE. PRU

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.

Wil.
« 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 ;
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 [ think on all my wrongs,
My blood is liquid flame !218 MARMION, Canto VE,

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.

VJIT
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,
(O then my helmed head he knew,
The Palmer’s cowl was gone, )
Then had three inches of my blade
The heavy debt of vengeance paid,—
My hand the thought of Austin staid Rp
I left him there alone.—
O good old man! even from the grave,
Thy spirit could thy master save:
If I had slain my foeman, ne’er
Had Whitby’s Abbess, in her fear,
Given to my hand this packet dear,

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.” ]Canto VI, THE BATTLE, 219

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.
“ 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,
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield,
When the Dead Douglas won the field.
These Angus gave—his armourer’s care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair ;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,
But ancient armour on the walls,
And aged chargers in the stalls,
And women, priests, and grey-hair’d men -
The rest were all in Twisel glen.”
And now i watch my armour here,
By law of arms, till midnight’s near ;
1{Seethe ballad of Otterbourne, in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. 1.
. 345.
: 2 Whee James encamped before taking post on Flodden. [Uhe

MS. has—
“ The rest were all on Flodden plain.” ]220

MARMION. Canto Vf,

Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey’s camp with dawn of light.

X.
“There soon again we meet, my Clare!
This Baron means to guide thee there:
Douglas reveres his King’s command,
Else would he take thee from his band.
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too,
Will give De Wilton justice due.
Now meeter far for martial broil,
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,
Once more”—__“ O Wilton! must we then
Risk new-found happiness again,
Trust fate of arms once more ?
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 moon-beam slumbering lay,Canto VI, THE BATTLE. 22)

And pour’d its silver light, and pure,
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure,
Upon Tautallon 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 scars,
Two veterans of the Douglas’ wars,
Though two grey priests were there,
And each a blazing torch held high,
You could not by their blaze descry!
The chapel’s carving fair.
Amid that dim and smoky light,
Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright,
A bishop by the altar stood,?
A noble lord of Douglas blood,
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white.
Yet show’d h's 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
1 [MS.—* You might not by their shine descry.”]

2 The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son o1
Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of a Scot-
tish metrical version of the AZneid, and of many other poetical
pieces of great merit. He had not at this period attained the
mitre,StL

eee:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

222 MARMION. Canto VI

Which wont of yore, in battle fray,
His foeman’s limbs to shred away,
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray.!
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.

XE.

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.

1 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, com-
pelling 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 Bothwell, which was some dimi-
nution to the family greatness. The sword with which he struck
so remarkable a blow, was presented by his descendant, James
Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay
of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single combat on Car-
berry-hill. See Introduction to the MMinstrelsy of the Scottish
BorderCanto VI. THE BATTLE, 223

Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton’s heir!

For King, for Church, for Lady fair,
See that thou fight.”

And Bishop Gawain, as he rose,

Said—“ Wilton ! grieve not for thy woes,
Disgrace, and trouble ;

For He, who honour best bestows,
May give thee double.”

De Wilton 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 !”

XITTI.
Not far advanced was morning day,
When Marmion did his troop array
To Surrey’s camp to ride;
ffe 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,}
But Marmion stopp’d to bid adieu :—

' (MS.—“ The train the portal arch pass’d through. ”]224

   

  
  

 

MARMIUN. Canto VT.

“ Though something I might plain,” he said,
*« Of cold respect to stranger guest,

Sent hither by your King’s behest,

While in Tantallon’s towers I staid ;
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand.”—
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :—

“© My manors, halls, and bowers, shall sti3l
Be open, at my Sovereign’s will,

To each one whom he lists, howe’er
Unmeet to be the owner’s peer.!

My castles are my King’s alone,

From turret to foundation-stone—

The hand of Douglas is his own ;

And never shall in friendly grasp

The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”

XTV.
Burn’d Marmion’s swarthy cheek like fre,
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,
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Were in thy hold, thy vassals near,

1 (hiS.—‘‘ Unmeet they be to harbour here.”’]Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 225

(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 ! 1
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 Lore
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!
Up drawbridge, grooms—what, Warder, ho !
Let the portcullis fall.”—2
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, razed 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 haits, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

1 [MS.—“ False Douglas, thou hast lied.’’]
2 See Appen lix, Note 30226 MARMION. Cante VT.

“ Horse ! horse!” the Douglas cried, “ and chase '”
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 !4

At first in heart it liked me ill,

When the King praised his clerkly skill.
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine?
Save Gawain, ne’er could pen a line:

So swore I, and I swear it still,

Let my boy-bishop fret his fill_—

Saint Mary mend my fiery mood !

Old age ne’er cools the Douglas blood,

I thought to slay him where he stooc.
Tis pity of him too,” he cried :

** Bold can he speak, and fairly ride,

I warrant him a warrior tried.”

With this his mandate he recalls,

And slowly seeks his castle halls.

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 Robert of Artois, to forward his
suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being detected, occa-
sioned 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 sucn documents
as might appear to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scot
land by the English monarchs.

2 [MS.—“ 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. 227

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.—
“ Palmer or not,” young Blount did say
“ He parted at the peep of day ;
Good sooth, it was in strange array.”—
* In what array ?” said Marmion, quick.
“ My Lord, I ill can spell the trick ;
But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang ;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
And from a loop-hole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep
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, cold and bold.
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say,
The Earl did much the Master* pray
To use him on the battle-day ;

} His eldest son, the Master of Angus,228 MARMION. Canto VI.

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; “ "T'was not fay nor ghost.
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.—
O dotage blind and gross!
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust,
My path no more to cross.—
How stand we now ?_he told his tale
To Douglas ; and with some avail ;
*T was 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 !Canto VI. THE BATYLE. 999

A Palmer too !—no wonder why

T felt rebuked beneath his eye:

I mignt 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! closed their march ;
(There now is left but one frail arch,

Yet mourn thou not its cells ;
Our time a fair exchange has made ;
Hard by, in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells,
Well worth the whole Bernardine broed,
That e’er wore sandal, frock, or hood.)
Yet did Saint Bernard’s Abbot there
Give Marmion entertainment fair,
And lodging for his train and Clare.
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.
Lord Marmion look’d—at length his eye
Unusual movement might descry

Amid the shifting lines:

1 This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely
Jemolished. Lennel House is cow the residence of my venerable
yiend, Patrick Brgdone, Esquire, so well known in the literary
world.(2) It is situated near Coldstream, almost opposite to Corn-
hill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field.

(2) First Edition.—Mr. Brydone has been many years dead. 1825.230 MARMION, Canto VI.

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.

SIX

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

The Till by Twisel Bridge.!

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, by oak, by hawthorn tree,
Troop after troop are disappearing ;
Troop after troop their banners rearing,

Upon the eastern bank you see.

Still pouring down the rocky den,

Where flows the sullen Till,

And rising from the dim-wood glen,

Standards on standards, men on men,
In slow succession still,

And, sweeping o’er the Gothic arch,

And pressing on, in ceaseless march,
To gain the opposing hill ®

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 (See Appendix, Note 3, PlCanto VI, THE BATTLE, 231

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 seo
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,

Had then from many an axe its doom,
To give the marching columns room.

XX.
And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile ?
What checks the fiery soul of James ?
Why sits that champion of the dames
Inactive on his steed,
And sees, between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed’s southern strand,
His host Lord Surrey lead ?
What ’vails the vain knight-errant’s brand ?
—O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed !
O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-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 hill232 MARMION. Canto V1,

RX Te
Ere yet the bands met Marmion’s eye,!
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,
“ Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!
And see ascending squadrons come
Between Tweed’s river and the hill,
Foot, horse, and cannon :—hap what hap,
My basnet to a prentice cap,
Lord Surrey’s o’er the Till !__
Yet more! yet more !—how fair array’d
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And sweep s0 gallant by !2
With all their banners bravely spread,
And all their armour flashing high,
Saint Geerge might waken from the dead,
To see fair England’s standards fly.”—
“¢ Stint in thy prate,”’ quoth Blount, “thou’dst best,
And listen to our lord’s behest.”
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,—
“ This instant be our band array’d ;
The river must be quickly cross’d,
That we may join Lord Surrey’s host.
If fights 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.
Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ;

 

1 [MS.—“ Ere first they met Lord Marmion’s eye.”~
2 £MS.—“ And all go sweeping by.”"]Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 233

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,
« The pheasant in the falcon’s claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw:
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,
So Clare shall bide with me.”
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,
Where to the Tweed Leat’s eddies creep,!
He ventured desperately :
And not a moment will he bide,
Till squire, or groom, before him ride 3;
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 :
Fach 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 breath’d 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 Leat’s éributes creep.”’]234 MARMION. Canto VI.

XXITI.

Hence might they see the full array

Of either host, for deadly fray ;)

Their marshall’d lines stretch’d east and west.?
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:

O! think of Marmion in thy prayer !—

Thou wilt not ?—well,—no less my care

Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.—

You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten 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,®
Nor heed the discontented look

From either squire ; but spurr’d amain,

And, dashing through the battle-plain,
His way to Surrey took.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 [See Appendix, Note 3Q.]
2 (MS.—‘“*Their lines were form’d, stretch’d east and west.”]
8 [MS.—“ Nor mark’d the lady’s deep despair,
Nor heeded discontented look.”]Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 235

XXIV.

c 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 vanward post,
With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight ;!
Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,
Shall be in rear-ward of the fight,

And succour those that need it most.
Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,
Would gladly to the vanguard go;

Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there,

With thee their charge will blithely share ;

There fight thine own retainers too,

Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”—?

« Thanks, noble Surrey !” Marmion said,

Nor 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 ery,

Up Flodden mountain shrilling high,
Startled the Scottish foes.

 

1 Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the time,
Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of rank
slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, to which
I may safely refer my readers; as an edition, with full explanatory
notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. Henry Weber. Tun-
stall, perhaps, derived his epithet of wndefiled from his white ar-
mour and banner, the latter bearing a white cock, about to crow,
as well as from his unstained loyalty and knightly faith. His place
of residence was Thurland Castle.

2 [MS.—“ Beneath thy seneschal, Fitz-Hugh.”]+ eh iea lala ed :

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

236

MARMION. Canto VI.

XXY:

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,!
All downward to the banks of Till,

Was wreathed in sable smoke.
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 come.—
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,

Until at weapon-point they close.—2
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway, and with lance’s thrust ;

1 (“Of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from
the days of Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our
pinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation,—for breadth
of drawing and magnificence of effect,—with this of Mr. Scott’s,”—
oEFFREY. }

2 [This couplet is not in the MS. |Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 37

And such a yell was there,
Of sudden and portentous birth,
As if men fought upon the earth,
And fiends in upper air ;}
O life and death were in the shout,
Recoil and rally, charge and rout,
And triumph and despair.
Long look’d the anxious squires; theiz eye
Could in the darkness nought descry.

XXXVI.

At length the freshening western blast
Aside the shroud of battle cast ;
And first, the ridge of mingled spears?
Above the brightening cloud appears ;
And in the smoke the pennons flew,
As in the storm the white sea-mew.
Then mark’d they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war,
And plumed crests of chieftairs brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave ;

But nought 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 ;

1[ The next three lines are not in the MS.]
2|MS.—“ And first the broken ridge of spears.”’]238 MARMION. Canto VI.

Although against them come,
Of Gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man,!
And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntley, and with Home.

XXVIT.
Far on the left, unseen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle;
Though there the western mountaineeré
Rush’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,3
The Howard’s lion fell ;
Yet still Lord Marmion’s falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer orew
Around the battle-yell.
The Border slogan rent the sky!
A Home! a Gordon! was the ery:
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

1 [Tn all former editions, H; ighlandman. Badenoch is the cor
rection of the author’s interleaved copy of the edition of 1830. ]
2(MS.—“ Though there the dauntless mountaineer.” }
3[MS.—“ Fell stainless Tunstall’s banner white,
Sir Edmund’s lion fell,”}Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 239

I will not see it lost !
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare!
May bid your beads, and patter prayer,—
I gallop to the host.”
And to the fray he rode amain,
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,?
It sunk among the foes.
Then Eustace mounted too :—yet staid,
As loath to leave the helpless maid,
When, fast as shaft can fly,
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,
Lord Marmion’s steed rush’d by ;
And Eustace, maddening at the sight,
A.look and sign to Clara cast,
To mark he would return in haste,?
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.—

1 (| MS.—“ Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare

May for its safety join in prayer.” ]
2[MS.—<“‘ Like pine up-rooted from the ground.””
3{MS,—‘‘ And cried he would return in haste.”}240

 

 

MARMION. Canto V1.

The scatter’d van of England wheels ;—!
She only said, as loud in air
The tumult roar’d, “Is Wilton there 2”—
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! . . .?
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, doff’d his casque, he felt free air,?
Around *gan Marmion wildly stare :—
* Where’s Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where i
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare!

t{MS.—“ Repulsed, the band
The scatter’d wing

2[MS.—“Can that be Coe Lord Marmion !”}
brave j
8 | MS.—“ And when he felt the fresher air.”’}

of England wheels.Canto V}/, THE BATTLE. 241

Redeem 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,}
To Dacre bear my signet-ring :
Tell him his squadrons up to bring.
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie:
Tunstall lies dead upon the field,
His life-blood stains the spotless shield :
Edmund is down :—my life is reft ;
The Admiral alone is left,
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,—
With Chester charge, and Lancashire.
Full upon Scotland’s central host,?
Or victory and England’s lost.
Must I bid twice 2_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 !”

XX,
O, Woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,

1 [MS.—< Yet my last thought’s for England—hie,
To Dacre give my Signet-ring. ...
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey jly.”}

® [MS.—“ Full on King James’ central host.” |242

MARMION, Canto VI

And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made s.
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou !—
Scarce were the piteous accents said,
When, with the Baron’s casque, the maid
To the nigh streamlet ran :
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears ;
The plaintive voice alone she hears,
Sees but the dying man.
She stoop’d her by the runnel’s side,"
But in abhorrence backward drew ;
For, oozing from the mountain’s side,
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide
Was curdling in the streamlet blue.
Where shali 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,
Brink. weary. pilgrin. Urink. anv. prays.
Jur. the. kind. saul. of. Sydtl. Grey.
Wha. built. this. wags. ant. well.
She fill’d the helm, and back she hied,
And with surprise and joy espied

1 MS.—< She stcop’d her by the runnel’s tide,

But in abhorrence soon withdrew,

For, oozing from the mountain’s 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 waters, clear as diamond-sparks,
In a rude basin fell.

Above, some half-worn letters say,

Drink, passing pilgrim, drink, and pray.”]Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 248

A Monk supporting Marmion’s heau ;
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—
“ Ts 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 5
Forgive and listen, gentle Clare !”°—
« Alas !° she said, ‘* the while,—
O, think of your immortal weal !
In vain for Constance is your zeal ;
She died at Holy Isle.”—
Lord Marmion started from the ground,
As light as if he felt no wound 5
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,
W ould spare me but a day!
For wasting fire, and dying groan,!
And priests slain on the altar stone,
Might bribe him for delay.

 

1 [MS.—“ Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan,
And priests gorged on the altar stone,
Might bribe him for delay,MARMION. Canto VI,

It may not be !—this dizzv 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.
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 mingle’s 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 !—

And ail by whom the deed was done,
Should with myself become his own,
It may not be”——]
1 [MS.—< 0, look, my son, upon this CTOS5,—
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 see:
But never aught like this.” ]Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 245

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—Sraney ! was the cry ;—

A light on Marmion’s visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye :!

With dying hand, above his head

He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted “ Victory !—

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on'”

Were the last words of Marmion.

XXXITI.
By this, though deep the evening fell,
Still rose the battle’s dreadful swell,
For still the Scots, around their King,
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring.
Where’s now their victor vanward wing,
Where Huntly, and where Home ?—
O for a blast of that dread horn,
On Fontarabian echoes borne,
That to King Charles did come,
When Roland brave, and Olivier,
And every paladin and peer,
On Roncesvalles died !
Such blast might warn them, not in vain,
To quit the plunder of the slain,
And turn the doubtful day again,
Whiie yet on Flodden side,
Afar, the Royal standard flies,
And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies.
1 [MS.—“ And sparkled in his eye.” ]246

MARMION. Canto VI.

Our Caledonian pride !
In vain the wish—for far away,
While spoil and havoc mark their way,
Near Sybil’s Cross the plunderers stray.—
“ OQ, Lady,” cried the Monk, “ away !”?
And placed her on her steed,
And led her to the chapel fair,
Of Tilmouth upon Tweed.
There all the night they spent in prayer,
And at the dawn of morning, there
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.

XXXIV.

But as they left the dark’ning heath,”
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 g2,
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow,

Unbroken was the ring ;
The stubborn spear-men still made good?
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood,

1 [MS.—“ In vain the wish—for far they stray,
And spoil and havoc mark’d their way.
°O, Lady,’ cried the Monk, ‘ away! ”"]

# (MS.—* But still wpon the darkening heath.” J

3 [MS.—“ Ever the stubborn spears made good
Their dark impenetrable wood ;

Each Scot step’d where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fellCanto VI. THE BATTLE. 947

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;
Tull utter darkness closed her wing
O’er their thin host and wounded King.
Then skilful Surrey’s sage commands
Led back from strife his shatter’d bands 5
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;

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,

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 dawn’s on Flodden’s dreary side,

Andshow’d the scene of carnage wide:

There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride!”]See LLL reat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

246 MARMION. Canto VI.

To town and tower, to down and dale,

To tell red Flodden’s dismal tale,

And raise the universal wail.2

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 !

XXXYV.
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,
Defaced and mangled though it be ;
Nor to yon Border castle high,
Look northward with upbraiding eye ;

1 [“ The powerful poetry of these passages can receive no illus-
tration from any praise or observations of ours. It is superior, im
our apprehension, to all that this author has hitherto produced ;
and, with a few faults of diction, equal to any thing 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
hundred lines, in short, in which he never stoops his wing, nar
wavers in his course; but carries the reader forward with a more
rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than any epic bard that we
Cau at present remember.”—JEFFREY. ]

2 (“ Day glimmers on the dying and the dead,
The coven cuirass, and the helmless head,” &e.
Byron’s Lara.)ee

Canio VT. THE BATTLE. 249

Nor cherish hope in vain,
That, journeying far on foreign strand,
The Royal Pilgrim to his land
May yet return again.
He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ;
Reckless of life, he desperate fought,
And fell on Flodden plain:
And well in death his trusty brand,
Firm clench’d within his manly hand,
Beseem’d the monarch slain.?
But, O! how changed since yon blithe night !—
Gladly I turn me from the sight,
Unto my tale again.

XXXVI.

Short is my tale :—Fitz-Eustace’ care
A pierced and mangled body bare
To moated Lichfield’s lofty pile ;
And there, beneath the southern aisle,
A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair,
Did long Lord Marmion’s image bear,
(Now vainly for its site you look ;
*T was levell’d, when fanatic Brook
The fair cathedral storm’d and took ;?
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 setitcheon rich,
And tablet carved, and fretted niche,

His arms and feats were blazed.

1 [See Appendix, Note 3 R..j
2 [See ADpendix, Note 38.17250

MARMION. Canto VI,

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 drageg’d him to its foot, and died,
Close by the noble Marmion’s side.

The spoilers stripp’d and gash’d the slain,
And thus their corpses were mista’en ;
And thus, in the proud Baron’s tomb,
The lowly woodsman took the room.

XXXVII.
Less easy task it were, to show
Lord Marmion’s nameless grave, and low.
They dug his grave e’en where he lay,}
But every mark is gone ;
Time’s wasting hand has done away
The simple Cross of Sybil Grey,
And broke her font of stone:
But yet from out the little hill?
Oozes the slender springlet still.
Oft halts the stranger there,
For thence may best his curious eye
The memorable field descry ;
And shepherd boys repair
To seek the water-flag and rush,
And rest them by the hazel bush,
And plait their garlands fair ;

1 (MS.—“ They dug his ved e’en where he lay.”]
2 (MS —* But yet where swells the little hill.”Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 251

Nor dream they sit upon the grave,

That holds the bones of Marmion brave.—
When thou shalt find the little hill,!
With thy heart commune, and be still.

If ever, in temptation strong.

Thou left’st the right path for the wrong;
If every devious step, thus trod,

Still 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.”

XXXVITII.
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 hew'd,?
Amid the spearmen’s stubborn wood :
Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall,
He was the living soul of all;
That, after fight, his faith made plain,
He won his rank and lands again ;
And charged his old paternal shield
With bearings won on Flodden Field
Nor sing I to that simple maid,
To whom it must in terms be said,

1 [MS.—“ If thou should’st find this little tomb,
Beware to speak a hasty doom.” ]

2 [MS.—“ He hardest press’d the Scottish ring ;
"Twas thought that he struck down the King.’”*252 V-ARMION. Canto VI.

That King and kinsmen did agree,

To bless fair Clara’s constancy ;

Who cannot, unless I relate,

Paint to her mind the bridal’s state ;

That Wolsey’s voice the blessing spoke,
More, Sands, and Denny, pass’d the joke :
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew,
And Catherine’s hand the stocking threw ;
And afterwards, for many a day,

That it was held enough to say,

In blessing to a wedded pair,

‘ Love they like Wilton and like Clare!”

 

 

 

LM’ Enbop.
TO THE READER.
Why then a final note prolong,
Or lengthen out a closing song,
Unless to bid the gentles speed,
Who long have listed to my rede ?}
To Statesmen grave, if such may deign
To read the Minstrel’s idle strain,
Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit,
And patriotic heart_as Prrr !
A garland for the hero’s crest,
-And twined by her he loves the best ;
Z To every lovely Jady bright,
| What can I wish but faithful knight ?
fF Po every faithful lover too

t

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9

\ What can I wish but lady true ?

 

1 Used generally for tate, or discourseee ee

Canto VT, THE BATTLE. 253

And knowledge to the studious sage ;
And pillow to the head of age.

To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay
Has cheated of thy hour of play,

Light task, and merry holiday!

To all, to each, a fair good-night,

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light !ts a)p25: 4

APPENDIX.

Nore A.

As when the Champion of the Lake

Enters Morgana’s fated house,

Or in the Chapel Perilous,

Despising spells and demons’ force,

Holds converse with the unburied corse.—P. 25.

Tue Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridge
ment of the most celebrated adventures of the Round Table; and,
being written in comparatively modern language, gives the general
reader an excellent idea of what romances of chivalry actually were.
It has also the merit of being written in pure old English; and
many of the wild adventures which it contains are told with a
simplicity bordering upon the sublime. Several of these are refer-
red 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 seene knights
have before; with that he saw stand by him thirtie great knights,
more, by a yard, than any man that ever he had seene, and ail

Rtir}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

256 APPENDIX TO

those grinned and pgnashed at Sir Launcelot; and when he saw
their countenance, hee dread them sore, and so put his shield
afore him, and tooke his sword in his hand ready to doe battaile:
and they were all armed in black harneis, ready, with their
shields and swords drawen. And when Sir Launcelot would have
gone through them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave
him the way; and therewith he waxed all bold, and entered intc
the chapell, and then hee saw no light but a dimme lampe burning,
and then was he ware of a corps covered with a cloath of silke;
then Sir Launcelot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloatn
away, and then it fared under him as the earth had quaked a little,
whereof he was afeard, and then hee saw a faire sword lye by the
dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied him out of the
chappel]. Assoon ashe 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
vr die,’ said Sir Launcelot, ‘ with no great words get yeeit againe,
therefore fight for it and ye list.’ Therewith he passed through
them ; and beyond the chappell-yerd, there met him a faire damo-
sell, 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 oncex—‘ Nay,’ said Sir
Launcelot, ‘that God forbid!—‘ Well, sir,’ said she, ‘and theu
hadest 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 oncelI 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 20,
Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seven
yeare ; but there may no woman have thy love but Queene Gue-
never; but sithen I may not rejoyce thee to have thy body alive,
I had kept no more joy in this world but to have had thy dead
body; and I would have balmed it and served, and so have kept
it in my life daies, and daily I should have clipped thee, and kissed
thee, in the despite of Queene Guenever.’—* Yee say well,’ said Sir
Launcelot; ‘ Jesus preserve me from your subtill craft.’ And
therewith he took his horse, and departed from her.”MARMION,

ro
or
~

Norte B.

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.—P, 25.

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,) sud-
denly 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 toa knight
at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure and guiltless of
evil conversation. Ali Sir Launcelot’s noble accomplishments were
therefore rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guen-
ever, or Ganore; and inthis holy quest he encountered only sach
disgraceful disasters as that which follows :—

“ But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild fo.
rest, 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 Launcelot might not well know what
it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old chap-
pell, and there he wend to have found people. And so Sir Laun-
celot 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 faire altar,
full richly arrayed with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candle-
stick, which beare six great candles, and the candlesticke was of
silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great
will for to enter into the chappell, but he could find no place where
hee might enter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then
he returned, and came againe to his horse, and tooke off his saddle
and his bridle, and let him pasture, and unlaced his helme, and
ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his shield,
before the crosse.

“* And so hee fell on sleepe; and, halfe waking and halfe sleep-
ing, 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 -208 APPENDIX TO

“O sweete Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when sha’l
the holy vessell come by me, where through I shall be blessed, fox
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 vessel of the Sanc-
greall, the which Sir Launcelot had seen before that time in King
Petchour’s house. And therewithall the sicke knight set him up-
right, and held up both his hands, and said, ‘ Faire sweete Lord,
which is here within the holy vessell, take heed 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 yes-
sell, and kissed it: And anon he was hole, and then he said,
‘Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this malady.’ So
when the holy vessell had been there a great while, it went into
the chappell againe, with the candlesticke and the light, so that
Sir Launcelot wist not where it became, for he was overtaken with
sinne, that he had no power to arise against the holy vessell, where-
fore afterward many men said of him shame. But he tooke repen-
tance 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 heartily, for through the holy vessell lam healed: But I have
right great mervaile @f 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, he is
of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into
the quest of the Sangreal.’—< Sir,’ said the squire, ‘ here I have
brought you all your armes, save your helme and yourswora; and,
therefore, by mine assent, now may ye take this knight’s helme ana
his sword ; and so he did. And when he was cleane armed, he
took Sir Launcelot’s horse, for he was better than his owne, and
so they departed from the crosse.

** Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe upright, and
he thought him what hee had there seene, and whether it were
dreams 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, there-
fore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place ;
and when Sir Launcelot heard this, he was passing heavy, and wist
not what to doe. And so he departed sore weeping, and cursedMARMION. 259

the time that he was borne; for then he deemed never to have had
more worship; for the words went unto his heart, till that he Enew
wherefore that hee was so called.”

Nore C.

And Dryden, in immortal stram,

Had raised the Table round again,

But that a ribbald King and Court

Bade him toi on, to make them sport ;
Demanded for their niggard pay,

Fit for their souls, a looser lay,
Licentious satire, song, and play.—P. 25.

Dryden g 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 pre-
fixed to the Translation of Juvenal. After mentioning a plan of
supplying machinery from the guardian angels of kingdoms, men-
tioned in the Book of Daniel, he adds,—

<‘ Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your lordship,
and by you the world, a rude draught of what I have been long
labouring in my imagination, and what I had intended to have
putin 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, Ihad intended chiefly for the honour
of my native country, to which a poet is particularly obliged. Of
two subjects, both relating to it, 1 was doubtful whether I should
choose that of King Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, being
farther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my invention ; or
that of Edward the Black Prince, in subduing Spain, and restoring
it to the lawful prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the
Cruel; which, for the compass of time, including only the expe-
dition of one year, for the greatness of the action, and its answer-
able 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 per-
sons, (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken occa-
sion to represent my living friends and patrons of the noblest
families, and also shadowed the events of future ages in the suc-
cession of our imperial Jine,)—with these helps, and those of theCIPS TM ne Um ARAN RS TSR at I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

260 APPENDIX TO

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.”

Nore D.
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold.—P. 27.

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 chi-
valry. 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 deyil than a man.

His staff was a young oak,

Hard and heavy was his stroke.”

Specimens of Metrical Romances, vo). ii. D. 136.
fam 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.

Nore E.

Day set on Norham’s castled steep,
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, &c.—P. 28.

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 betweenMARMION. 26)

England and Scotland. The extent of its ruins, as well as its his
torical 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 ona 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 II.,
in 1174, took the castle from the bishop, and committed the keep-
ing of it to William de Neville. After this period it seems to have
been chiefly garrisoned by the King, and considered as a royal
fortress. The Greys of ChillinghameCastle were frequently the
castellans, or captains of the garrison: Yet, as the castle was
situated in the patrimony of St. Cuthbert, the property was in the
see of Durham till the Reformation. After that period, it passed
through various hands. At the union of the crowns, it was in the
possession of Sir Robert Carey, (afterwards Earl of Monmouth,)
for his own life, and that of two of his sons. After King James’s
accession, Carey sold Norham Castle to George Home, Earl of
Dunbar, for £6000. See his curious Memoirs, published by Mr
Constable 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 Nor-
ham Castle in 1522, not long after the battle of Flodden. Theinner
ward, or keep, is represented as impregnable :—“ The provisions
are three great vats of salt eels, forty-four kine, three hogsheads of
salted salmon, forty quartes of grain, besides many cows and four
hundred sheep, lying under the castle-wall nightly ; but a number
of the arrows wanted feathers, and a good Fletcher [i. e. maker of
arrows] was required.”— History of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 201, note.

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

Nore F,
The donjon keep.—P. 28.
It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the donjon,

in its proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal
*262 APPENDIX TO

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 aiso 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.

Nore G.

Welt was he arm’d from head to heel,
In mail and plate of Milan steel.—P. 31.

The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their
skill in armoury, as appears from the following passage, in which
Froissart gives an account of the preparations made by Henry, Earl
of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and Thomas, Duke of Norfolk,
Earl Marischal, for their proposed combat in the lists at Coventry:
—“< These two lords made ample provisions of all things necessary
for the combat ; and the Earl of Derby sent off messengers to Lom-
bardy, 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 abundant love for the
Earl, ordered four of the best armourers in Milan to accompany the
knight to England, the Earl of Derby might be more completely
armed.”—JOHNES’ Froissart, vol. iv. p. 597.

Note H.
The golden legend bore aright,

CUho checks at me, ta Neath is dight.—Pp 31.

The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the follow
ing story :—Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford, was, among
9ther gentlemen of quality, attended, during a visit to London, in

*MARMION. 263

1390, by Sir William Dalzell, who was, according to my authority,
Bower, not only excelling in wisdom; but also of a lively wit.
Chancing to be at the court, he there saw Sir Piers Courtenay, an
English knight, famous for skill in tilting, and for the beauty of his
person, parading the palace, arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for
device an embroidered falcon, with this rhyme,—

“J bear a falcon, fairest of flight,

Whoso pinches at her, his death is dight 1

In graith.”2

The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a dress
exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a magpie instead
of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to rhyme to the
vaunting inscription of Sir Piers :-—

“<J bear a pie picking at a piece,
Whoso picks at her, I shall pick at his nese,?
In faith.”

This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp lances.
In the course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that it gave way
at the touch of his antagonist’s lance, and he thus avoided the shock
of the encounter. This happened twice :—in the third encounter,
the handsome Courtenay lost two of his front teeth. As the «ng-
lishman complained bitterly of Dalzell’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
extinction of one of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the
fight of Otterburn. As Courtenay demurred to this equalization
of optical powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit ; which, after much
altercation, the King appointed to be paid to him, saying, he sur-
passed the English both in wit and valour. This must appear to
the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that time. I sus-
pect the Jockey Club would have given a different decision from
Henry IV.

Nore I.

They hail'd Lord Marmion:
They hail’d him Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,
Of Tamworth tower and town.—P. 34

Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present romance

1 Prepared. 2 Armour. 3 Nose264 APPENDIX TO

is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, indeed, the fa-
mily of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay, in Normandy, was highly dis-
tinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fontenay, a distinguish-
ed follower of the Conqueror, obtained a grant of the castle and
town of Tamworth, and also of the manor of Serivelby, in Lincoln-
shire. One, or both, of these noble possessions, was held by the
honourable service of being the royal champion, as the ancestors
of Marmion had formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. But
after the castle and demesne of Tamworth had passed through four
successive barons from Robert, the family became extinct in the
person of Philip de Marmion, who died in 20th Edward I. without
issue male. He was succeeded in his castle of Tamworth by Alex-
ander de Freville, who married Mazera, his grand-daughter. Bald-
win de Freyille, Alexander’s descendant, 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 coronation, 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, m the reign of Edward
II., performed that chivalrous feat before the very castle of Nor-
ham, which Bishop Perey has woven into his beautiful ballad,
“ The Hermit of Warkworth.”—The story is thus told by Le-
Jand :—

“The Scottes came yn to the marches of England, and destroyed
the castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran much of Northum-
berland marches.

** At this tyme, Thomas Gray and his friendes defended Norham
from the Scottes.

“It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischiefs cam
by hungre and asseges by the space of xi yeres in Northumberland ;
fcr the Scottes became so pronde after they had got Berwick, that
they nothing esteemed the Englishmen.

“* About this tyme there was a greate feaste made yn Lincolnshir,
to which came many gentlemen and ladies; and amonge them one
lady brought a heaulme for a man of were, with a very riche creste
of gold, to William Marmion, knight, with a letter of commande.
ment of her lady, that he should go into the daungerest place inMARMION. 265

@nzgland, and ther to let the heaulme be seene and known as fa-
mous. So he went to Norham; whither, within 4 days of cum-
ining, 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
parison 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 up on yowr horse, and ryde
lyke a valiant man to yowr foes even here at hand, and I forsake
God if I rescue not thy hody 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.”

Nore K.
Largesse, largesse.—P. 34.

This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were wont
to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. Stewart of
Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirizes the narrowness
of James V. and his courtiers, by the ironical burden—

<< Lerges, lerges, lerges, hay,

Lerges of this new yeir day.
F'rst lerges of the King, my chief,
Quhilk come als quiet as a theif,

And in my hand slid schillingis tway,
To put his lergnes to the preif,?

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

1 Two. 2 Proof206 APPENDIX TO

kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text, upon
suitable occasions.

At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of importance,
pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable character rendered
them the only persons that could, with perfect assurance of safety,
be sent on necessary embassies into Scotland. This is alluded to
in stanza xxi. p. 40.

Nore hh.

Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford,
And Captain of the Hold.—P. 36

Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, this
eastellan’s name ought to have been William ; for William Heron
of Ford was husband to the famous Lady Ford, whose syrencharms
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 Cessford. His wife, represented in
the text as residing at the Court of Scotland, was, in fact, living in

- ber own Castle at Ford.—See Sir RicHaArD Heron’s curious Gene-

alogy of the Heron Family.

Nore M.

The whites a Northern harper rude
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud,—
** How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all,” &¢.—P. 36.

This old Northumbrian ballad was taken down from the recita-
tion of a woman eighty years of age, mother of one of the miners
in Alston-moor, by an agent for the lead mines there, who com-
municated it to my friend and correspondent, R. Surtees, Esquire,
of Mainsforth. She had not, she said, heard it for many years;
but, when she was a girl, it used to be sung at the merry makings,
** till the roof rung again.” To preserve this curious, though rude
rhyme, it is here inserted. The ludicrous turn given to the slaugh-
ter, marks that wild and disorderly state of society, in which a
murder was not merely a casual circumstance, but, in some cases,
an exceedingly good jest The structure of the ballad resemblesMARMION. 267

tne “ Fray of Suport,”! having the same irregular stanza and wild
Chorus.

I.

Hoot awa’, lads, hoot awa’,
Ha’ ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thirwalls, and a
Ha’ set upon Albany? Featherstonhaugh,
And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh ?

There was Willimoteswick,

And Hardriding Dick,
And Hughie of Hawden, and Will of the Wa

I eanno’ tell a’, I canno’ tell a’,

And mony a mair that the deil may knaw.

le
The auld man went down, but Nicol, his son,
Ran away afore the fight was begun ;
And he run, and he run,
And afore they were done,
There was many a Featherston gat sic a stun,
As never was seen since the world begun.

100K,
J canno’ tell a’, I canno’ tell a’;
Some gat a skelp,3 and some gat a claw ;
But they gard the Featherstons haud their jaw,—4
Nicol, and Alick, and a’.
Some gat a hurt, and some gat nane;
Some had harness, and some gat sta’en.5

IV.
Ane gat a twist o’ the craig ;6
Ane gat a bunch7 o’ the wame ;8
Symy Haw gat lamed of a leg,
And syne rau wallowing? hame.

1 See Minstrelsy of the Scottish. Border, vol. ii. p. 124.

2 Pronounced Awbony.

3 Skelp signifies slap, or rather is the same word which wag ori-
ginally spelled schlap.

4 Hold their jaw, a vulgar expression still in use.

5 Got stolen, or, were plundered ; a very likely termination of
the fray.

6 Neck. 7 Punch. 8 Belly. 9 Bellowing.26d APPENDIX TO

Hoot, hoot, the old man’s slain outright !

Lay him now wi’ his face down :—he’s a sorrowiul sight.
Janet, thou donot, !
I'll lay my best bonnet,

Thou gets a new gude-man afore it be night.

Vi.
Hoo away, lads, hoo away,
We’s a’ be hangid if we stay.
Tak up the dead man, and lay him ahint the bigging.
Here’s the Bailey 0’ Haltwhistle,2
Wi his great bull’s pizzle,
That sup’d up the broo’,—and syne——in the piggin.3

In explanation of this ancient ditty, Mr. Surtees has furnished
me with the following local memorandum: Willimoteswick, the
chief seat of the ancicnt family of Ridley, is situated two miles
above the confluence of the Allon and Tyne. It was a house of
strength, as appears from one oblong tower, still in tolerable pre-
servation. It has been long in possession of the Blacket family.
Hardriding Dick is not an epithet referring to horsemanship, but
ineans Richard Ridley of Hardriding5, the seat of another family
of that name, which, in the timeof Charles I., was sold on account
of expenses incurred by the loyalty of the proprietor, the imine-
diate ancestor of Sir Matthew Ridley. Will of the Wa’ seems to
be William Ridley of Wallto wn, so called from its situation on the
great Roman wall. Thirlwall Castle, whence the clan of Thirl-
walls derived their name, is situated on the small river of Tippel,

 

 

 

 

 

1 Silly slut. The Border bard calls her so, because she was
weeping for her slain husband; a loss which he seems to think
might be soon repaired.

2 The Bailiff of Haltwhistle seems to have arrived when the fray
was over. This supporter of social order is treated with character.
istic irreverence by the moss-trooping poet.

* An iron pot with two ears.

4 Willimoteswick was, in prior editions, confounded with Rid-
ley Hall, situated two miles lower, on the same side of the Tyne,
the hereditary seat of William C. Lowes, Esq.

5 Ridley, the bishop and martyr, was, according to some autho-
rities, born at Hardriding, where a chair was preserved, called the
Bishop’s Chair. Others, and particularly his biographer and name-
sake Dr. Glocester Ridley, assign the honour of the martyr’s birth
to Willimoteswick.MARMION 269

near the western boundary of Northumberland. It is near the wall,
and takes its name from the rampart having been thirled, 7. e.
pierced, or breached, inits vicinity. Featherston Castle lies south
of the Tyne, towards Alston-moor. Albany Featherstonhaugh, the
chief of that ancient family, made a figure in the reign of Edward
VI. A feud did certainly exist between the Ridleys and Feather-
stons, productive of such consequences as the ballad narrates. 24
Oct. 22do Henrici 8vi. Inquisitio capt. apud Hautwhistle, sup visum
corpus Alexandri Featherston, Gen. apud Grensilhaugh felonice in-
terfecti, 22 Oct. per Nicolawm Ridley de Unthanke, Gen. Hugon
Ridle, Nicolaum Ridle, et alios ejusdem nominis. Nor were the
Featherstons without their revenge ; for, 36to Henrici 8vi, we have
—Utlagatio Nicolai Fetherston, ac Thome Nyxson, §c. Sc. pro
homicidio Will. Ridle de Morale.

Note N.

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 razed old Ayton tower.—P. 39.

The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is
well known. In 1496, he was received honourably in Scotland;
and James IV., after conferring upon him in 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 inconsiderable fortress of
Ayton. Ford, in his Dramatic Chronicle of Perkin Warbeck,
makes the most of this inroad :—

‘* 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,270 APPENDIX TO

Hardie in battayle, but it seems the cause
They undertake considered, appeares
Unjoynted in the frame on’t.”

Note O

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.—P. 40.

The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, and Ber
wick, were, as may be easily supposed, very troublesome neigh-
bours to Scotland. Sir Richard Maitland of Ledington wrote a
poem, called “‘ The Blind Baron’s Comfort ;” when his barony ef
Blythe, in Lauderdale, was harried by Rowland Foster, the Eng-
lish captain of Wark, with his company, to the number of 300
men. They spoiled the poetical knight of 5000 sheep, 200 nolt,
30 horses and mares; the whole furniture of his house of Blythe,
worth 100 pounds Scots, (£8. 6s. 8d.) and every thing else that was
portable. ‘‘This spoil was committed the 16th day of May, 1570,
(and the said Sir Richard was threescore and fourteen years of age,
and grown blind,) in time of peace; when nane of that country
lippened [expected] such a thing.”—“ The Blind Baron’s Comfort”
consists in a string of puns on the word Blythe, the name of the
lands thus despoiled. Like John Littlewit, he had “a conceit left
him in his misery—a miserable conceit.”

The last line of the text contains a phrase, by which the Bor-
derers jocularly intimated the burning a house. When the Max-
wells, 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.

Note P.
The priest uf Shoreswood.—P. 41.

This churchman seems to have been akin to Welsh, the vicer ofMARMION. Zieh

St. Thomas of Exeter, a leader among the Cornish insurgents in
1549. ‘‘ This man,” says Hollinshed, ‘“‘had many good things in
him. He was of no great Stature, but well set, and mightilie com-
pact: He was a very good wrestler; shot well, both in the long-
bow, and also in the cross-bow; he handled his hand-gun and
peece very well; he was a very good woodman, 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 companion 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 rebellion, an arch-captain, and a principal doer.”—Vol. iv.
p. 958, 4to edition. This model of clerical talents had the misfor-
tune to be hanged upon the steeple of his own church.!

Nore Q.

From all the youth of Sicily,
Saint Rosalie retired to God.—P. 43.

«Sante Rosalie 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 cf angels; for that place was not formerly so
accessible (as now it is) in the days of the Saint; and even now it
is a very bad, and steepy, and break-neck way. In this frightful
place, this holy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on
what she found growing on that barren mountain, and crecping into
a narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping
wet, and was her place of retirement, as well as prayer; having
worn out eyen 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 isa 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.

i {The reader needs hardly to be reminded of Ivanhoe.
S272, APPENDIX TO

Nore R.
This Palmer.—P. 45.

A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his sofe
business to visit different holy shrines; travelling incessantly, and
subsisting by charity: whereas the Pilgrim retired to his usual
home and occupations, when he had paid his devotions at the par-
ticular spot which was the object of his pilgrimage. The Palmers
seem to have been the Questionarii of the ancient Scottish canons
1242 and 1296. There is in the Bannatyne MS. a burlesque account
of two such persons, entitled, “‘Simmy and his Brother.” Their
accoutrements are thus ludicrously described, (I discard the an-
cient spelling)—

“Syne shaped them up, to loup on leas,
Two tabards of the tartan ;

They counted nought what their clouts were
When sew’d them on, in certain.

Syne clampit up St. Peter’s keys,
Made of an old red gartane ;

St. James’s shells, on t’other side, shews
As pretty as a partane

Toe,
On Symmye and his brother.”

Nore 8.

Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,
From midnight to the dawn of day.—P. 47.

St. Regulus, (Scofticé, St. Rule,) a monk of Patree, 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 1s 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 miserabie ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, pro-~s max

MARMION, 273

bably slept. At full tide, egress and regress are hardly practicable.
As Regulus first colonized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and
converted the inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to
complain that the ancient name of Killrule (Cedla Reguli) should
have been superseded, even in favour of the tutelar saint of Scot-
land. The reason of the change was, that St. Rule is said to have
brought to Scotland the relics of Saint Andrew.

Nore T.

The scenes are desert now, and bare,
Where jflourish’d once a forest fuir.—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 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 frecholders, that they should com-
pear 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 warred 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 Huntly, 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 Langhope. I heard say, he slew, in these
bounds, eighteen score of harts.”}

These huntings had, of course, a military character, and attend-
ance upon them was part of the duty ofa vassal. The act for abo-
lishing ward or military tenures in Scotland, enumerates the ser-
vices of hunting, hosting, watching, and warding, as those which
were in future to he illegal.

1 Prrscotriz’s Hislory of Scotiand folio edition, p. 143.274 APPENDIX TY

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 Braemar 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 Abercarney, and hundreds of others,
knights, esquires, and their followers ; all and every man, in gene-
ral, 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 Red-shanks. Their habit is—shoes, with but one sole a-piece ;
stockings, (which they call short hose,) made of a warm stuff of
diverse colours, which they call tartan; as for breeches, many of
them, nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a jerkin of the sams
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 man-
tle of diverse colours, much finer and lighter stuff than their hose;
with blue flat caps on their heads ; a handkerchief, knit with two
knots, about their necks: and thus are they 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 their 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 Scotland, 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 eitherAas a ss a el ee

 

MARMION. 2d

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.

“Thus, the first day, we travelled eight miles, where there were
small cottages, built on purpose to lodge in, which they call Lon-
quhards. I thank my good Lord Erskine, he commanded that I
should always be lodged in his lodging : the kitchen being always
on the side of a bank: many kettles and pots boiling, and many
spits turning and winding, with great variety of cheer,—as venison
paked ; sodden, rost, and stewed beef; mutton, goats, kid, hares,
fresh salmon, pigeons, hens, capons, chickens, patridges, muir
coots, heath-cocks, caperkellies, and termagants ; good ale, sacke,
white and claret, tent (or allegant), with most potent acquavite.

<< All these, and more than these, we had continually in super-
fluous abundance, eaught by falconers, fowlers, fishers, and brought
by my lord’s tenants and purveyors to victual our camp, which con-
sisteth of fourteen or fifteen hundred men and horses. The manner
of the hunting is this: Five or six hundred men do rise early in the
morning, and they do disperse themselves divers ways, and seven,
eight, or ten miles compass, they do bring, or chase in, the deer in
many herds, (two, three, or four hundred in a herd,) to such or
such a place, as the noblemen shall appoint them ; then, when day
is come, the lords and gentlemen of their 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 2nd arrows, which they carry with them, we can hear,
now and then, 2 harquebuss or a musket go off, which they do sel-
dom discharge in vain. Then after he 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, and more than
enough left for us, to make merry withall, at our rendezvous.”6 APPENDIX TO

NS
~I

Nore U.
By lone Saint Mary's silent lake.—P. 54.

This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which the
Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with asmaller lake, call-
ed the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by mountains. In the
winter, it is still frequented by flights of wild swans; hence my
friend Mr Wordsworth’s lines :—

 

“« The swan on sweet St. Mary’s lake
Floats double, swan and shadow.”

Near the lower extremity of the lake, are the ruins of Dryhope
tower, the birth-place of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip Scott of
Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the Flower of
Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Harden, no less
renowned for his depredations, than his bride for her beauty. Her
romantic appellation was, in latter days, with equal justice, con-
ferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the last of the elder branch of
the Harden family. The author well remembers 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 composed in her honour.

 

 

 

Nore V.

 

For though, in feudal strife, a foe
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low.—P. 55.

 

The chapel of St. Mary of the Lowes (de lacubus) was situated
on the eastern side of the lake, to which it gives name. It was in-
jured 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.& 5 acai + aed

MARMION. 277

Note W.
— High Whitby’s cloister’d pile.—P. 60.

The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, on
the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in consequence
of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It contained hoth
monks and nuns of the Benedictine order; but, contrary to what
was usual in such establishments, the abbess was superior to the
abbot. The monastery was afterwards ruined by the Danes, and
rebuilded by William Percy, in the reign of the Conqueror. There
were no nuns there in Henry the Eighth’s time, nor long before
it. The ruins of Whitby Abbey are very magnificent.

Nort X.

St. Cuthbert’s Holy Isle.—P. 60.

 

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 Durham during the
early ages of British Christianity. A succession of holy men held
that office: but their merits were swallowed up in the superior
fame of St. Cuthbert, who was sixth bishop of Durham, and wha
bestowed the name of his ‘‘ patrimony” upon the extensive pro-
perty of the see. The ruins of the monastery upon Holy Island
betoken great antiquity. The arches are, in general, strictly Saxon;
and the pillars which support them, short, strong, and massy. In
some places, however, there are pointed windows, which indicate
that the building has been repaired at a period long subsequent 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 surround-
ed by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands dry between it
and. the opposite coast of Northumberland, from which it is ahout
three miles distant.

Note Y.

Then Whitbys nuns exulting told,
How to their house three Barons bold
Must menial service do.—P. 68.
The popular account of this curious service, which was probably
corsiderably exaggerated, is thus given in “A True Account,”ith
i
\ i
ii
| ie (he!
Lei |
f|
B |
ime ty
ah
& r |
\ i
Se) iy

 

 

 

278 APPENDIX TO

printed and circulated at Whitby: “‘In the fifth year of the reign
of Henry II., after the conquest of England by William, Duke of
Normandy, the Lord of Uglebarnby, then called William de Bruce;
the Lord of Smeaton, called Ralph de Perey; with a gentt2man
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 about 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-dovor, there laid him down, and presently died. The hermit
shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself within at his
meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay without. The
gentlemen, in the thick of the wood, being 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 sanc-
tuary; whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be
privileged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was
death for death. But the hermit, being a holy and devout man,
and at the point of death, sent for the 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 gentle-
men being present, bade him save their lives.—Then said the her-
mit, ‘ 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
ge Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yethers, toMARMION. 279

be cut by you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price :
and you, Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be
cut in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of
each sort, to be cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your backs
and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before 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! Out on you! Out
on you! for this heinous crime. If you, or your successors, shall
refuse this service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid
hour, you or yours, shall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby,
or his successors. This I entreat, and earnestly beg, that you may
have lives and goods preserved for this service: and I request of
you to promise, by your parts in Heaven, that it shall be done by
you and your successors, as is aforesaid requested ; and I wil. con-
firm 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.’—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 Z.
Of thousand snakes, each one
Was changed into a coil of stone,
When holy Hilda pray d ;
How sea-fowls’ pinions fait,
As over Whitby’s towers they sail.—P. 69.
These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient wri-280 APPENDIX TO

ters, who have occasion to mention either Whitby or St. Hilda.
The relics of the snakes which infested the precincts of the con-
vent, and were, at the abbess’s prayer, not only beheaded, but
petrified, are still found about the rocks, and are termed by Pro-
tesiant fossilists, Ammonite.

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 cer-
tain 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 inthe 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 sympa-
thies and antipathies, are implanted in many things by provident
Nature 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.

Nore 2 A.

His body's resting-place, of old.
How oft their patron changed, they told.—P. 69.

St. Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of the most
mutable and unreasonable saints in the Calendar. He died a.p.

.666, in a hermitage upon the Farne Islands, having resigned the

bishopric of Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, about two years before.1
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 capricious 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

1 [He resumed the bishopric of Lindisfarne, which, owing to bad
health, he again relinquished within less than three months before
his death.—Rainr’s St. Cuthbert. ]MARMION, 28)

Scotland for several years, and came as far west as Whithorn, 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 North-
umberland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, three feet
and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick ; so that, with
very little assistance, it might certainly have swam: It still lies, or
at least did so a few years ago, in two pieces, beside the ruined
chapel of 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 transferred. At length, the Danes
continuing to infest the country, the monks removed to Rippon for
a season; and it was in return from thence to Chester-le-street,
that, passing through a forest called Dunholme, the Saint and hig
carriage became immovable at a place named Wardlaw, or War-
diiaw. Here the Saint chose his place of residence; and all wha
have seen Durham must admit, that, if difficult in his choice, he
evinced taste in at last fixingit. It is said, that the Northumbrian
Catholics still keep secret the precise spot of the Saint’s sepulture,
which is only intrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies,
the survivors associate to them, in hiv room, a person judged fit ta
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,—1139 years after his
death, their discovery and disinterment were effected. Under
a blue stone, in 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 1541, the second
of 1041; the third, or inner one, answering in every particular to
the description of that of 686, was found to contain, not indeed, as
had been averred then, and even until 1539, the incorruptible
body, but the entire skeleton 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 decom-
position 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. Be-
side the skeleton were also deposited several gold and silver insig-
nia, 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 ina newAPPENDIX TO

  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  

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. |

 

Nore 2 B.

 

Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir,
Before his standard fled.

*Twas he, to vindicate his reign,

Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane,

And turwd the Conqueror back again.—P. 70

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 intractibility
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 Teviotdale and Lothian, with many Nor-
man and German warriors, who asserted the cause of the Empress
Maud. See CHAavtmers’ Caledonia, vol. i. p. 622; a most labori-
ous, curious, and interesting publication, from which considerable
defects of style and manner ought not to turn aside the Scottish
antiquary.

Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the Danes,
when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find in Simeon of Dur-
ham, 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 battle of Ashendown, rewarded, by
a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint. As to William the Con.qy

MARMION. 283

queror, the terror spread before his army, when he marched to
punish che 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 accounts, the Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet
curiosity to view the Saint’s body, he was, while in the act of com
manding 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 without eating
a morsel, (which the monkish historian seems to have thought no
small part both of the miracle and the penance,) and never drew
his bridle till he got to the river Tees.

Nore 2C.

Saunt Cuthbert sots, and toils to frame
The sea-born beads, that bear his name.—P. 70.

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 certain rock, and use another as his an-
vil. This story was perhaps credited in former days; at least the
Saint’s legend contains some not more probable.

Nore 2 D.
Qld Colwulf.—P. 71.

Coolwulf, or Colwult, King of Northumberland, flourished in
the eighth century. He was a man of some learning ; for the ve-
nerable Bede dedicates to him his “ Ecclesiastical History.” He
abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to Holy Island, where
he died in the odour of sanctity. Saint as Colwulf was, however,
I fear the foundation of the penance-vault does not correspond with
his character ; for it is recorded among his memorabilia, that, find-
ing the air of the island raw and cold, he indulged the monks,
whose rule had hitherto confined them to milk and water, with the
comfortable privilege of using wine andale. If any rigid antiquary
insists on this objection, he is welcome to suppose the penance-284 APPENDIX TO

vault was intended by the founder for the more genial purposes
of a cellar.

These penitential vaults were the Geissel-gcwdlbe of German
convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monastic disci-
pline, they were sometimes used as a cemetery for the lay benefac-
tors of the convent, whose unsanctified corpses were then seldom
permitted to pollute the choir. They also served as places of meet-
ing for the chapter, when measures of uncommon severity were to
be adopted. But their most frequent use, as implied by the name,
was as places for performing penances, or undergoing punishment.

 

Norr 2 E.

Tynemouth’s haughty Prioress.—P. 73.

 

 

That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. [ts
ruins are situated on a high rocky point; and, doubtless, many a
vow was made to the shrine by the distressed mariners, who drove
towards the iron-bound coast of Northumberland in stormy wea-
ther. It was anciently anunnery ; for Virea, 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 introduc-
tion of nuns at Tynemouth, in the reign of Henry Vill; is an
anachronism. The nunnery of Holy Island is altogether fictitious.
Indeed, St. Cuthbert was unlikely to permit such an establishment ;
for, notwithstanding his accepting the mortuary gifts above men-
tioned, and his carrying on a visiting acquaintance with the abbess
of Coldingham, he certainly hated the whole female sex ; and, in
revenge of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, he,
efter death, inflicted severe penances on such as presumed to ap-
proach within a certain distance of his shrine.

 

 

 

Nore 2 F.

The village inn.—P. 96.

 

The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the six-
teenth century, may be collected from Dunbar’s admirable tale or
“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.MARMION. 285

partridges, and Bourdeaux wine. At least. if the Scottish inns
were not good, it was not from want of encouragement from the
legislature ; who, so early as the reign of James I., not only enacted,
that in all boroughs and fairs there be hostellaries, having stables
and chambers, and provision for man and horse, but by another
statute, ordained that no man, travelling on horse or foot, should
presume to lodge any where except in these hostellaries: and that
no person, save innkeepers, should receive such travellers, under
the penalty of forty shillings, for exercising such hospitality. But,
in spite of these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but
indifferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the houses
of individuals.

Nore 2 G.
The Goblin-Haill.—P. 107.

A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester,
(for it bears either name indifferently,) the construction of which
has, from a very remote period, been ascribed to magic. The Sta-
tistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro, gives the fol-
lowing account of the present state of this castle and apartment :—
““Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of Hopes on the east,
and a large rivulet on the west, stands the ancient castle of Yester.
Sir David Dalrymple, in his annals, relates, that ‘ Hugh Gifford
de Yester died in 1267; that in his castle there was a capacious
cavern, formed by magical art, and called in the country Bo-Hall,
.€. 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 centurics, 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 Y ester was the last fortifica-
tion, in this country, that surrendered to General Gray, sent into
Scotland by Protector Somerset.—Statistical Account, vol. xiii.
I have only to add, that, in 1737, the Goblin Hall was tenanted by
the Marquis of Tweedale’s falconer, as I learn from a poem by
Boyse, entitled ‘‘ Retirement,” written upon visiting Yester. It is
now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair.

Sir David Dalrymple’s authority for the anecdote is in Fordun,
whose words are,—“ A.D. mccLxvir. Hugo Giffard de Yester286 APPENDIX TO

moriurs cujus castrum, vel saltem caveam, et dongionem, arte
demonicd antique relationes ferunt fabrifactas : nam ibidem habetur
mirabilis specus subterraneus, opere mirifico constructus, magne
terrarum spatio protelatus, qui communiter Bo-HAut appellatus
est.” Lib. X. cap. 21.—Sir David conjectures, that Hugh de Gifford
must either have been a very wise man, or a great oppressor.

Norte 2 H.

Yet still the knightly spear and shield
The Elfin Warrior doth wield
Upon the brown hill’s breast.—P. 114.

The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Supersti-
tions, in the “ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” vol. ii., will
show whence many of the particulars of the combat between Alex-
ander 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 bishoprick 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 moonlight, 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 by asingle squire, whom he ordered to remain
without the limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient
intrenchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly
assailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized
the reins ofhis steed. During this operation, his ghostly opponent
sprung up, and darting his spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, wounded
him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph with the horse, which
he committed to the care of his servants. The horse was ofasable
colour, as well as his whole accoutrements, and apparently of great
beauty and vigour. He remained with his keeper till cock-crow-
ing, 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 whieh he encoun-
tered the spirit.”” Less fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight,
who, travelling by night with a single companion, “came in sightee

MARMION. 287

of a fairy host, arrayed under displayed banners. Despising the
remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to break a
lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks apparently
in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian overthrown,
horse and man, by his aérial 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 Highlands,
is believed to be haunted by a spirit called Lham-dearg, in the
array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody hand, from which he
takes hisname. 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 Li-
brary, gravely assures us, that, in his time, Lkam-dearg fought with
three brothers whor he met in his walk, none of whom long sur-
vived the ghostly conflict. Barclay, 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,
thar.to put up with worse quarters elsewhere. After taking the
usual precautions of providing fires, lights, and arms, they watched
till midnight, when, behold! the severed arm of a man dropped
from the ceiling ; this was followed by the legs, the other arm, the
trunk, and the head of the body, all separately. The members
rolled together, united themselves in the presence of the aston-
ished 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. Howthe combat terminated I do not ex-
actly remember, and have not the book by me; but I think the
spirit made to the intruders on his mansion the usual proposal,
that they should renounce their redemption ; which being declined,
he was obliged to retreat.

The most singular tale of this 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 Bur-
thogge ‘*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 hundred years older,
and was said td be, E libro Conveni. Dunelm. per T. C. extract.,
whom I believe to haya heen Thomas Cradocke, Esq. barrister

aRetr at

288 APPENDIX TO

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, suggested the introduction of the tale into
the present poem, runs thus :—

“<< Rem miram hiajusmodi que nostris temporibus evenit, teste
viro nobili ac fide dignissimo, enarrare haud pigebit. Radulphus
Bulmer, cum e castris, que tune temporis prope Norham posita
erant, oblectationis causa, extisset, ac in ulteriore Tuede ripd
pradam cum canibus leporartis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto quo-
dam nobili, sibi antehac, ut videbatur, familiariter cognito, con-
gressus est; ac, ut fas erat inter inimicos, flagrante bello, brevis-
sima tnterrogationis mord interpositd, alterutros invicem incitato
cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, primo occursu, equo pre-
acerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terram eversus pectore et capite
leso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomedat. Quem ut se egre ha-
bentem comiter allocutus est alter, pollicitusque, modo auxilium non
abnegaret, monitisque obtemperans ab omni rerum sacrarum cogi-
tatione abstineret, nec Deo, Deipare Virgini, Sanctove ullo, preces
aut vota efferet vel inter sese conciperet, se brevr eum sanwn valid-
umque restiturum esse. Pre angore oblata conditio accepta est ;
ac veterator tlle nescio quid obsceni murmuris insusurrans, prehensa
manu, dicto citius in pedes sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem,
maxima pre rei inaudita novilate formidine perculsus, Mi Jesu
exclamat, vel quid simile ; ac subito respiciens nec hostem nec ullum
alium conspicit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu afflictum, per
summam pacemin rivo flurii pascentem. Ad castra itaque mira-
bundus revertens, fidei dubius, rem primo occultavit, dein, confecte
bello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Delusoria procul dubio res tota,
acmalaveteratoris illius aperitur fraus, quahominem Christianum ad
vetitum tale auxitium pelliceret. Nomen utcunque illius (nobilis alias
ac clari) rectendum ducto, cum haud 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
researches of my friendly correspondent.

Lindesay is made to allude to this adventure of Ralph Bulmer,
as a well-known story, in the 4th Canto, Stanza xxii. p. 145.

The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly te
search for, and delight in, encounters with such military spectres
See a whole chapter on the subiect, in BARTHOLINUS De Causis
contempta Mortis a Danis, p. 253.

 

 

 

 

 

 

IO Me

eeeto
a
©

I4ARMION,

Nore 2 I.

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount,
Lord Lion King-at-arms.—P. 134.

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 disquisitions on
the origin of the language used by the poet:! But, with all ite
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, indeed, his play, coarse as it now
seems, must have had a powerful effect upon the people of his age.
I am uncertain if I abuse poetical license, by introducing Sir David
Lindesay in the character 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” des-

1 I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting
passage. Sir David, recounting his attention to King James VY. in
his 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 Tp 7 Lore
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 wituess, that pa, da, lyn, are the
first efforts of a child to say, “ Whare’s David Lindesay?”: and
that the subsequent words begin another sentence—

—_________ Upon the lute
Then played I twenty springis perqueir,” &c.

In another place, ‘‘ justing lumis,” 7. e. looms, or implements ct

tilting, is facetiously interpreted “ playful limbs.” Many such

minute errors could be pointed out; but these are only mentioned

incidentally, and not as diminishing the real merit of the edition.

1 (It is suggested by an ingenious correspondent, that Pa, do,
lyn, ought rather to be interpreted, play, Davy Lindesay .290 - APPENDIX TO

patches Dallamount, which can mean nobody but Sir David de la
Mont, to France, on the message of defiance from James 1V. te
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 frequent employ-
ment 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 proportionaily solemn. In fact, it was the
mimicry of a royal coronation, except that the unction was made
with wine instead oil. In Scotland, a namesake and kinsman of
Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 1592, ‘‘ was crowned by King
James with the ancient crown of Scotland, which was used before
the 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 coronation of his predecessor was not less
solemn. So sacred was the herald’s office, that, in 1515, Lord
Drummond was by Parliament declared guilty of treason, and his
lands forfeited, because he had struck, with his fist, the Lion King-
at-arms, when he reproved him for his follies.! Nor was he resto
red, but at the Lion’s earnest solicitation.

Norte 2 K.
Crichtoun Castle.—P. 135.

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 accommo-
dation. The oldest part of the building is a narrow keep, or tower,
such as formed the mansion of a lesser Scottish baron ; but so many
additions have been made to it, that there is now a large court-
yard, surrounded by buildings of different ages. The eastern front
of the court is raised above a portico, and decorated with entabla-
tures, bearing anchors. All the stones of this front are cut into
diamond facets, the angular projections of which have an uncom-
monly rich appearance. The inside of this part of the building

1 The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the
cause of forfeiture to be,—‘‘ Ho quod Leonem, armorum Regem
mugno violasset dum eum de ineptiis suis admonet.” See Nispet’s
Heraldry, Part iv. chap. xvi.; and Lestat Historia ad Annum
15185.MARMION. 291

appears to have contained a gallery of great length, and uncom-
mon elegance. Access was given to it by a magnificent stair-case,
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 belonged
originally to the Chancellor, Sir William Crichton, and probably
owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being taken hy the
Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton’s counsels the death of
his predecessor, Earl William, beheaded in Edinburgh Castle, with
his brother, in 1440. It is said to have been totally demolished
on that occasion; but the present state of the ruin snows the
contrary. In 1483, it was garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its
proprietor, against King James III., whose displeasure he had
incurred by seducing his sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for
the Monarch having dishonoured his bed. From the Crichton fa-
mily the castle passed to that of the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell ;
and when the forfeitures of Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were
ivided, the barony and castle of Crichton fell to the share of the
Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of the
Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callander, Baro-
net. It were to be wished the proprietor would take a little pains
to preserve those splendid remains of antiquity, which are at pre.
sent used asa fold for sheep, and wintering cattle ; although, per-
haps, there are very few ruins in Scotland which display so well
the style and beauty of castle-architecture.

Nore 2.
Tie darkness of thy Massy-More.—P. 137.

The castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, called the Massy
More, The epithet, which is not uncommonly applied to the pri-
sons of other old castles in Scotland, is of Saracenic origin. It
occurs twice in the ‘‘ Epistole Itinerarie’ of Tollius. ‘ Carcer
subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appellant, MAzMoRRA,” p. 147; and
again, ‘* Coguntur omnes Captivi sub noctem rn ergastula subterra-
ned, que Turce Algezerani vocant 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!

1 [*In Scotland, formerly, as still insome parts of Greece, thie
great chieftains required, as an acknowledgment of thei: autho-
rity, that those who passed through their lands should repair tu
their castle, to explain the purpose of their journey, and receivebo
oS
Lo

APPENDIX TO

Norr 2 M.

For that a messenger from heaven,
In vain to James had counsel givers
Against the English war.—P. 139.

Yhis story is told by Pitscottie with characteristic simplicity :—
“The King, seeing that France could get no support of him for that
time, made a proclamation, full hastily, through all the realm of
Scotland. both east and west, south and north, as 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 Burrowmuir of Edin-
burgh, and there to pass forward where he pleased. His proclama-
tions were hastily obeyed, contrary to the Couneil of Scotland’s
will; but every man loved his prince so well, that they would on
no ways disobey him ; but every man caused make his proclamation
so hastily, conform to the charge of the King’s proclamation.

 

the hospitality suited to their rank. To neglect this was held dis-
courtesy in the great, and insolence in the inferior traveller; and
so strictly was the etiquette insisted on by some feudal lords, that
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 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 prepara-
tion to banquet his expected guest, who nevertheless rode past the
castle without paying the expected visit. In his first burst of in-
dignation, the Baron pursued the discourteous traveller with a bedy
of horse, made him prisoner, and confined him in the dungeon,
while he himself and his vassals feasted upon the good cheer which
had been provided. With the morning, however, came reflection,
and anxiety for the desperate feud which impended, as the neces-
sary 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 onee 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 ScottT’s Provincial Antiquities, vol. i. p. 25-6.—
Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 192.] :MARMION. 29%

‘« The Kirg came te 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! on his feet, to the great of his legs; with all other
hose and clothes conform thereto ; but he had nothing on his head,
but syde? 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* for the King, saying, he desired to speak with bim.
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 mell5 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 ‘rays be
seen nor comprehended, but vanished away as he had been a blink
of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and could no more be seen.
I heard say, Sir David Lindesay, Lyon-herauld, and John Inglis
the marshal, who were, at that time, young men, and special ser-
vants 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 lan-
suage, tells the same story, and quotes the personal information of
our Sir David Lindesay: ‘‘ In Zis, (i. e. qui propius astiterant) fuit
David Lindesius, Montanus, homo spectate fidei et probitatis, nec a
literarum studiis alienus, et cujus totius vite tenor longissime a
mentiendo aberrat; a quo nisi ego hec uti tradidi, pro certis accep
assem, ut vulgatam vanis rumoribus fabulum onisswrus eram.”—

1 Buskins. #% Long. 8 Cheeks. ¢ Asking. 5 Meddle.LLL LITLE LN ENERO LTTE FEAL Ra " : OE inane SDR OTIC, a

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

294 APPENDIX TO

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 animposture. Mr.
Pinkerton plausibly argues, from the caution against incontinence,
that the Queen was privy to the scheme of those who had recourse
to this expedient, to deter King James from his impolitic war.

Notre 2 N.

Of ail the palaces so fair,
Built for the royal dwelling,

In Scotland, far beyond compare
Lintithgow ts excelling.—P. 139,

[In Scotland there are about twenty palaces, castles, and re-
nains, or sites of such,

““ Where Scotia’s kings of other years”

had their royal home.

“« Linlithgow, distinguished by the combined strength and 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 an-
cient Scottish monarchs to Linlithgow and its fine lake. The sport
of hunting 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 toatree....
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 storeys high, with towers at thu
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 magnificent scale, One ban-MARMION. 295

quet-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 te
have a delicious prospect on three sides, and is one of the most en-
viable boudoirs we have eyer seen.”—Sir WALTER ScotTT’s Pro-
vincial Antiquities.—Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 382.]

Nore 2 O.
June saw his father’s overthrow.—P. 139

The rebellion against James III. was signalized by the cruel cir-
cumstance 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 pos-
sessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as it started at a
woman and water-pitcher, and was slain, it was not weil understood
by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stivling, 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 [2 U
p. 298,] on stanza ix. of cantov. The battle of Sauchie-burn, in
which James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 1488.

No nEG2, B..
Spread all the Borough-moor below.—P. 148.

The Borough, or Common Moor of Edinburgh, was of very great
extent, reaching from the southern walls of the city to the bottom
of Braid Hills. It was anciently a forest; and, in that state, was
so great a nuisance, that the inhabitants of Edinburgh had permis-
sion granted to them of building 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 lV.
mustered the array of the kingdom there, in 1513, the Borough-
moor was, accerding to Hawthornden, “a field spacious, and de-
lightful 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 towards
Braid, not far from the head of Burntsfield Links. The Hare
Stane probably derives its name from the British word Har, signi-

fying an army.SS ee

PRESTO OTT ERO MRI NR RITE MET NE BIE MIT cee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

296 APPENDIX TG

Nore 2 Q.
O'er the pavilions flew.—P. 150.

I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in 1513,
but Patten gives a curious description of that which he saw after
the battle of Pinkey, 1547 :—“ Here now, to say something of the
manner of theircamp: Asthey had no pavilions, 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-tys, some of blue buckeram, some of black,
and some of some other colours. These white ridges, as I cali
them, that, as we stood on Fauxsyde Bray, did make so great mus:
ter towards us, which I did take then to be a number of tentes,
when we came, we found it a linen drapery, of the coarser cam:
oryk in dede, for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles,
er rather cabyns and couches of their soldiers; the which (much
efter the common building of their country beside) had they framed
of four sticks, about an ell long a piece, whereof two fastened to-
gether 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 ; howbeit, when they had lined them, and stuff’d
them so thick with straw, with the weather as it was not very cold,
when they wear ones couched, they were as warm as they had been
wrapt in horses dung "—Patren’s Account of Somerset's Expedi
tron.

Notre 2 R.

Since first, when conquering York arese,
To Henry meek she gave repose.—-P. 159.

Henry VI., with his Queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his family,
fled to Scotland after the 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 believeMARMION. 297

that he remained at Kirkcudbright. But my noble friend, Lord
Napier, has pointed out to me a grant by Henry, of an annuity of
forty marks to his Lordship’s ancestor, John Napier, subscribed by
the King himself, at Edinburgh, the 28th day of August, in the
thirty-ninth year of his reign, which corresponds to the year of_God,
1461. This grant, Douglas, with his usual neglect of accuracy, dates
in 1368. But this error being corrected from the copy of Macfar-
lane’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 time was Provost of
Edinburgh. The hospitable reception of the distressed monarch
and his family, called forth on Scotland the encomium of Molinet,
acontemporary poet. The English people, he says,—

“ Ung nouveau roy créerent,
Par despiteux vouloir,
Le vieil en debouterent,
Et son legitime hoir,
Qui faytyf alla prendre
D Ecossé le garand,
De tous siecles le mendre,
Et le plus tollerant.”
Recollection des Avaitures.

Note 2 S.

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,

And high curvett, that not in vain

The sword sway might descend amain
On foemair’s cusque below.—P. 165.

«¢ The most useful az, as the Frenchmen term it, is tera tlerr 5
the courbettes, cabrioles, or un paset 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 use-
fulin a fight or mestlee ; for, as Labroue hath it, in his Book ot
Horsemanship, Monsieur de Montmorency haying a horse that waa
excellent in performing the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike
down two adversaries from their horses in a tourney, where divers
of the prime gallants of France did meet; for, taking his time,
when the horse was in the height of his 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 y campnecenrnseeten COELHO SO EN

 

 

 

 

 

 

2468 APPENDIX TO

Note 2 T.
His arms were hailbert, axe, 07 spear.—P. 165.

Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasantry of
Scotland, by repeated statutes; spears and axes seem universally
to have been used instead of them. Their defensive armour was
the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantine; and their missile weapons
frossbows and culverins. All wore swords of excellent temper,
according to Patten; and a voluminous handkerchief round their
neck, “not for cold, but for cutting.” The mace also was much
used in the Scottish army: The old poem on the battle of Flodden
mentions a band—

““ Who manfully did meet their foes,
With leaden mauls, and lances long.”

When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, each
man was obliged to appear with forty days’ provision. When this
was expended, which took place before the battle of Flodden, the
army melted away of course. Almost all the Scottish forces, ex-
cept a few knights, men-at-arms, and the Border-prickers, who
formed excellent light-cavalry, acted upon foot.

Nore 2 U.

 

his iron belt,
That bound his breast in penance pain,
In memory of his father slain.—P. 172.

Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight of
which James added certain ounces every year that he lived. Pit-
scottie founds his belief that James was not slain in the battle of
Flodden, because the English never nad 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 dis-
position, which led him highly to relish gaiety, approaching to
license, was, at the same time, tinged with enthusiastic devotion.
These propensities sometimes formed a strange contrast. He was
wont, during his fits of devotion, to assume the dress, and conform
to the rules, of the order of Franciscans; and when he had thus
done penance for some time in Stirling, to plunge again into the
tide of pleasure. Probably, too, with no unusual inconsistency, he
sometimes taughed at the superstitious observances to which he at35

MARMION. 299

ther times subjected himself. There is a very singular poem by
Dunbar, seemingly addressed to James IV., on one of these occa-
rions of monastic seclusion. It isa 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,” &c.

See the whole in Sibbald’s Collection, vol. i. p. 234.

Nore 2 X.
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway.—P. 173.

It has been already noticed, [see note to stanza xiii. of canto ic
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 laudable anxiety, to clear the Lady Ford
from this scandal: that she came and went, however, between the
armies of James and Surrey, iscertain. 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 com-
mitted 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 negociations
with James was the liberty of her husband.

Nortsz 2 Y.
Archibald Bell-the-Cat.—P. 178.

Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable forpanne

PALES Te eae ae te ss mR; aes mene E xsi tl

 

 

 

30U APPENDIX TO

strength of body and mind, acquired the popular name of Bell-the
Cat, upon the following remarkable occasion :-—James the Third
of whom Pitscottie complains, that he delighted more in music,
and ‘policies of building,” than in hunting, hawking, and other
noble exercises, was so ill advised, as to make favourites of his
architects and musicians, whom the same historian irreverently
terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who did not sympathize
in the King’s respect for the fine arts, were extremely incensed at
the honours 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 mid-
night 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 community to tie a
bell round the cat’s neck, that they might hear her approach at a,
distance ; but which public measure unfortunately miscarried, from
no mouse being willing to undertake the task of fastening the bell.
“I understand the moral,” said Angus, ‘‘and, that what we pro-
pose 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, Coch-
ran, 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 ol
three hundred light axes, all clad in white livery, and black bends
thereon, that they might be known for Cochran the Earl of Mar’s
men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie of black velvet, with a
great chain of gold about his neck, to the value of five hundred
crowns, and four blowing horns, with both the ends of gold and
silk, set with 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 inquired who it was that perturbed them at
that time. Sir Robert Douglas, laird of Lochleven, was keeper
of the kirk-door at that time, who inquired who that was that
knocked so rudely ; and Cochran answered, ‘ This is I, the Ear)
of Mar.’ The which news pleased well the lords, because they
were ready boun to cause take him, as is before rehearsed. ThenMARMION, 301

the Earl of Angus passed hastily to the door, and with him Sir
Robert 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 Ear] of Mar, as he
came in at the door, and pulled the golden chain from his craig,
and said to him, a tow! would set him better. Sir Robert Douglas
syne pulled the blowing horn from him in like manner, and said,
‘He had been the hunter of mischief over long.’ This Cochran
asked, ‘ My lords, is it mows,? or earnest ?? They answered, and
said, “ It is good earnest, and so thou shalt find ; for thou and thy
complices have abused our prince this long time; of whom thou
shalt have no more credence, but shalt have thy reward according to
thy good service, as thou hast deserved in times bypast; right so
the rest of thy followers.

“‘ Notwithstanding, the lords held them quiet tilt they caused
certain armed mento pass into the King’s pallion, and two or three
wise men to pass with them, and give the King fair pleasant words,
till they laid hands on all the King’s servants, and took them and
hanged them before his eyes over the bridge of Lawder. Incon-
tinent they brought forth Cochran, and his hands bound with a
tow, who desired them to take one of his own pallion tows and
vind his hands, for he thought shame to haye his hands bound
with such tow of hemp, like a thief. The lords answered, he was
a traitor, he deserved no better; and, for despite, they took a hair
tether,3 and hanged him over the bridge of Lawder, above the rest
of his complices.”—PitscoTtix, p. 78, folio edit.

Norn 2 2.
Then rest you in Tuntallon Hold.—P. 180.

The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock projecting inte
the German Ocean, about two miles east of North Berwick. The
building is not seen till a close approach, as there is rising ground
betwixt it and the land. The circuit is of large extent, fenced upon
three sides by the precipice which overhangs the sea, and on the
fourth by a double ditch and yery 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, bor-
rowed from the Castle of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of
Albany, two great cannons, whose names, as Pitscottie informs us

1 Rope. 2 Jest. 3 Halter302 APPENDIX TO

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-de-
livery of which, three lords were laid in pawn at Dunbar. Yet,
notwithstanding all this apparatus, James was forced to raise the
siege, and only afterwards obtained possession of Tantallon by
treaty with the governor, Simon Panango. When the Earl of
Angus return’d from banishment, upon the death of James, he
again obtained possession of Tantallon, and it actually afforded
refuge to an English ambassador, under circumstances similar to
those described in the text. This was no other than the celebrated
Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided there for some time under Angus’s
protection, after the failure of his 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 wag
meant to express the words,

Ding down Tantallon,
Mak a brig to the Bass.

Tantallon was at length ‘‘dung down” and ruined by the Cove-
nanters ; its lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a favourer of the
royal cause. The castle and barony were sold in the beginning of
the eighteenth century to President Dalrymple of North Berwick,
by the then Marquis of Douglas.

Nore 3 A.
Their motto on his blade.—P. 180.

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 saying in his time) are in-
scribed around the emblem:

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.MARMION, 303

‘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 TYME AND HOWR,
To ye last day I sie my Saviour.

I do protest in tyme of al my ringe,
Ye lyk subject had never ony keing.”

This curious and valuable relic was nearly lost during the Civil
War of 1745-6, being carried away from Douglas-Castle by some of
those in arms for Prince Charles. But great 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 clay-
more, of the usual size, is of an excellent temper, and admirably
Doised.

Nore 3 B.

Perchance some form was unobserved ;
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved.—P. 186.

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 salyos for the strange and obviously precarious chances of
the combat. Various curious evasive shifts, used by those who took
np 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, filed from his enemy at the first onset. ‘ Turn, coward!”
exclaimed his antagonist. ‘‘ Thou liest,” said the Italian, ‘‘ coward
am IJ none; and in this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my
first cause of combat was unjust, and I abandon it.” ‘* Je vous
laisse a penser,” adds Brantome, “‘s’il n’y a pas deVabus ia.” Else-
where he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those who
had a righteous cause entertained of victory: ‘“ Un autre abus 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 vain-
queurs, voire sen assurovent-tils du tout, mesmes que leurs confes-

USees ha oe

304 APPENDIX TO

seurs, parrains et confidants leurs en respondoient tout-d-fuit, comme
si Dieu leur en eust donné une patente; et ne regardant point a
Mautre fautes passees, et que Dieu en gardela punition a ce coup la
pour plus grande, despiteuse, et exemplaire.’’—Discours sur le Duels.

Nom .3 C.
Dun-Evdin’s Cross.—P. 189.

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 workmanship, between them. Above this rose
the proper Cross, a column of one stone, upwards of twenty feet
nigh, surmounted with a unicorn. This pillar is preserved in the
grounds of the property of Drum, near Edinburgh. The Magis-
trates of Edinburgh, in 1756, with consent of the Lords of Session,
(proh pudor /) destroyed this curious monument. under a wanton
pretext that it encumbered the street ; while, on the one hand, they
lett 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 inoffensive Cross.

From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the heralds
published the actsof Parliament; and its site, marked by radii,
diverging frem a stone centre, in the High Street, is still the place
where proclamations are made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nort 3 D.
This awful summons came.—P. 190.

This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish his-
torians. It was, probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, an
attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon the supersti-
tious temper of James IV. ‘The following account from Pitscottie
is characteristically minute, and furnishes, besides, some curious
particulars of the equipment of the army of James IV. I need only
add to it, that Ploteock, or Plutock, is no other than Pluto. The
Christians of the middle ages by no means disbelieved in the exis-
tence of the heathen deities ; they only considered them as devils ;
and Plotcock, so far from implying any thing fabulous, was a syno-

 

 

LTTE DELLE TON EM Ae TH eM TOT ONE EET INES roageneaee aah r et LT * ray osMARMION. 505

e
nyme of the grand enemy of mankind.! ‘ Yet all thir warnings,
and uncouth tidings. nor no good counsel, might stop the King, at
this present, from his vain purpose, and wicked enterprize, but
hasted him fast to Edinburgh, and there to make his provision and
furnishing, in having forth of his army against the day appointed,
that they should meet in the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh: That is
to say, seven cannons that he had forth of the Castle of Edinburgh,
which were called the Seven Sisters, casten by Robert 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 time, there was a cry
heard at the Market-cross of Edinburgh at the hour of midnight,
proclaiming as it had been a summons, which was named and called
by the proclaimer thereof, the summons of Plotcock ; which desired
nll men to compear, both Earl, and Lord, and Baron, and all ho-
nest gentlemen within the town, (every man specified by his own
name,) to compear, within the space of forty days, before his mas-
ter, where it should happen him to appoint, and be for the time,
under the pain of disobedience.. But whether this summons was
proclaimed by vain persons, night-walkers, or drunken men, for
their pastime, or if it was a spirit, I cannot tell truly; but it was
shewn to me, that an indweller of the town, Mr. Richard Lawson,
peing evil-disposed, ganging in his gallery-stair foreanent the Cross,
hearing this voice proclaiming this summons, thought marvel what
it should be, cried on his servant to bring him his purse ; and when
he had brought him it, he took out a crown, and cast over the stair,
saying, ‘I appeal from that summons, judgment, and sentence
thereof, and take 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 ycars of age, and was in the town the time of the
said summons; and thereafter, when the field was stricken, he
swore to me, there was no man that escaped that was called in this

1 See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the “ Bor-
der Minstrelsy,” vol. ii. under the fourth head; also Jackson on
Unbelief, p. 175. Chaucer calls Pluto the “ King of Faerie ;” and
Dunbar names him, ‘* Pluto, that elrich incubus.” If he was not
actually the devil, he must be considered as the “‘ prince of the
power of the air.” The most curious 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
Aetains them there in a sort of Fool’s Paradise.806 iPPENDIX TO

summons, but that one man alone which made his protestation,
and appealed from the said summons; but all the lave were pe-
rished in the field with the king.”

Note 3 E.
His towers, Tantalion vast,
And double mound and fosse.—P. 198.

| 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 Inch-
keith, in order the better to bridle the lords and barons, who in-
clined to the reformed faith, and to secure by citadels the sea-coast
of the Frith of Forth. For this purpose, the Regent, to use the
phrase of the time ‘ dealed with’ the (then) Earl of Angus for his
consent to the proposed measure. He occupied himself, while she
was speaking, in feeding a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only
replied by addressing the bird, but leaving the Queen to make the
application, ‘ The devil is in this greedy gled—she will never be
fon.’ 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.’ ”»—Srr WALTER Scortt’s
Provincial Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 167.—Prose Works, vol. vii. p.
436. ]

 

 

 

 

 

Nore 3 F.

the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain.—P. 201

 

The Iol of the heathen Danes (a word still applied to Christmas
in Scotland) was solemnized with great festivity. The humour of
the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting each other with bones ;
and Torfeus 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 respect-
able intrenchment, against those who continued the raillery. TheMARMION, 307

dances of the northern warriors round the great fires of pine-trees,
are commemorated by Olaus Magnus, who says, they danced with
such fury, holding each other by the hands, that, if the grasp of
any failed, he was pitched into the fire with the velocity of asling.
The sufferer, on such occasions, was instantly plucked out, and ob-
liged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a penalty for ‘‘ spoil-
ing the king’s fire.”

Nore 3 G.

On Christmas eve the mass was sung ;
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.—P. 202.

In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night, ex-
cept on Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which that holyday
used to be celebrated, might admit of a long and curious note; but
I shall content myself with the following description of Christmas,
and his attributes, as personified in one of Ben Jonson’s Masques
for the Court.

<< Enter CHRISTMAS, with two or three of the Guard. He is
attired in round hose, long stockings, a close doublet, a high-erowned
hat, with a brooch, along thin beard, a truncheon, little ruffs, white
shoes, his scarf and garters tied cross, and his drum beaten before
him.— The names of his children, with their attlires: Miss-Rule, ina
velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, great yellow ruff, like a
reveller ; his torch-bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a basket ;
—Caroll, a long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his
girdle; his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open ;—WMine'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, caras and counters ;
—New-year’s-Gift, ina 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, ina masquing
pied suit, with a visor ; his torch- bearer carrying the box, and ring-
ing it ;—/Vassal, like a neat sempster and songster ; her page bear-
ing a brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, before her ;
—Offering, in a short gown, with a porter’s staff in his hand; 4
wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer ;— BabyBe uitins li

 

ST TY LOT RITE I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

308 APPENDIX TO

Cocke, drest like a hoy, in a fine long coat, biggin, bib, muckendaer,
and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great cake, with a bean
and a pease ”

Nore 3 H.

Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery.—P. 204.

It seems certain that the AZwmmers of England, who, in Nor-
thumberland at least) used to go about in disguise to the neigh-
bouring houses, bearing the then useless ploughshares; and the
Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, present, in some in
distinct 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 characters 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’ plumb-cake was deposited. One playedas
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 un-
connectedly. There was also, occasionally, 1 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 usually 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 in-
vestigator of popular antiquities might still supply. The late acute
and valuable antiquary, Mr. Ritson, showed me several memo-

randa towards such a task, which are probably now dispersed or
lost. See, however, his Remarks on Shakspeare, 1783, p. 38.

Since the first edition of Marmion appeared, this subject has
received much elucidation from the learned and extensive labours
of Mr. Douce ; and the Chester Mysteries [edited by J. H. Mark-
laud, Esq.] have been printed in a style of great elegance and ac-
curacy, (in 1818,) by Bensley and Sons, London, for the Roxburghe
Club. 1830.MARMION. 309

Nore 3 [.

When my great-grandsire came of old,
With amber beard and flaxen hair.—P. 204,

Mr. Scott of Harden, my kind and affectionate friend, and distant
relation, has the original of a poetical invitation, addressed from
his grandfather to my relative, from which a few lines in the text
are imitated. They are dated, as the epistle in the text, from Mer-
toun-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 te 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 gentleman, to whom the lines are addressed,
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 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 cayalier up-
braids another, that, when he was not able to afford to pay a bar-
ber, 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 ot Sir Henry
Hay Macdougal, Bart., and another painted for the famous Dr

:310 APPENDIX TO

Pitcairn,! was a beard of a most dignified and venerable appear-
ance.

Norte 3 K.
The Spirits Blasted Tree.—P. 207.

This passage is illustrated by “ Ceubren yr Ellyll, or the Spirit's
Blasted Tree,” a legendary tale, by the Reverend George Warring-
ton, who says :—

“The event, on which the tale is founded, is preserved by tra-
dition in the family of the Vanghans 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 extreme, and marked by vile
treachery in the one, and ferocious cruelty in the other.2 The story
is somewhat changed and softened, as more favourable to the cha-
racter 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
"vas to be seen a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in
the park of Nannau, now belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet,
in the wild and romantic tracks of Merionethshire. The abbey
mentioned passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. The for-
mer is retained, as more generally used.”—See the Metrical Tale.
in Sir Walter Scott’s Poetical Works, vol. vii. pp. 396-402.

Norte 3 L.

De HQhanden 6 6 a es
Wi, on a Friday morn, look pale,
Tf ask’d to tell a fairy tale.—P. 207.

The Daoine shiv, or Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highlanders,
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

1 The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius.
By the favour of the late Earl of Kellie, descended on the materna.
side from Dr. Pitcairn, my father became possessed of the portrait
in question.

2 The history of their feud may be found in Pennant’s Tour i
Wales.MARMION. 31)

on silght provocation. The belief of their existence is deeply im-
pressed on the Highlanders, who think they are particularly offend-
ed at mortals, who talk of them, who wear their favourite colour
green, or in any respect interfere with their affairs. This is espe-
cially 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 Dr. Graham’s Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire.

Nore 3 M.
Beneath the Towers of Franchémont.—P. 207.

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 Franchémont, (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 Franchémont depo-
sited, in one of the vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, contain-
ing 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 persuade his infernal
majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain ; the huntsman remained
immoveable. At last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he
told him, that he would agree to resign the chest, if the exorciser
would sign his name with blood. But the priest understood his
meaning, and refused, as by that act he would have delivered over
his soul to the Deyil. Yet if any body can discover the mystic
words used by the person who deposited the treasure, and pro-
nounced 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.”oo
i
to

APPENDIX TO

Nore 3 N.

The very form of Hilda fuir,
Hovering upon the sunny as,
And smiling on her votaries’ prayer.—P. 214.

I shall only produce one instance more of the great veneration
paid to lady Hilda, which still prevails even in these our days; ang
that is, the constant opinion, that she rendered, and still renders
herself visible, on some occasions, in the Abbey of Streamshalh, or
Whitby, where she so long resided. At a particular time of the
vear, (viz. in the summer months,) at ten or eleven in the forenoon,
the sunbeanis fall in the inside of the northern part of the choir;
and ‘tis then that the spectators, who stand on the west side of
Whitby 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 ina shroud. Thongh we are certain this is only a reflec-
tion caused by the splendour of the sunbeams, yet fame reports it,
and it is constantly believed among the vulgar, to be an appear-
ance of Lady Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state;
before which, I make no doubt, the Papists, even in these our
days, offer up their prayers with as much zeal and devotion, ar
before any other image of their most glorified saint.” —Cuar1ion’s
History of Whitby, p. 33.

 

 

Nore 3 O.

 

 

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?

No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!

Up drawbridge, grooms—what, Warder, ho !
Let the portcullis fall.—P. 225.

 

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 Bomby, who, having refused to acknowledge
the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas over the gentlemen and Ba-
rons ot 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
nncle to the Tutor of Bombay, and obtained from the King aMARMION. 313

“sweet letter of supplication,” 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
suspected 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 de
merits.’

“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.”—
Pirscotriz’s History, p. 39.

Nordea 2.
The Till by Twisel Bridge.—P. 230.

On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flodden,
Surrey’s headquarters were at Barmoor 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 m a
north-westerly direction, and crossed the Till, with his van and
artillery, at Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed,
his rear-guard column passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This
movement had the double effect of placing his army between King
James and his supplies from Scotland, and of striking the Scottish
monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on the depth or
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 obstacies. I know not if we are toCOMI UMAR RANTS TR TT OT

 

 

 

 

 

 

314 APPENDIX TO

impute James’s forbearance to want of military skill, or to the ro-
mantic 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 Go-
thic 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.

Nore 3 Q.

Hence might they see the full array
Oferther host, for deadly fray.—P. 234.

The reader cannot here expect a full account of the Battle of
Flodden ; but, so far as is necessary to understand the romance, 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 How-
ard, the Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight Marshal
of the army. Their divisions were separated 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 ot
Lancashire, and the palatinate of Chester. Lord Dacres, with
a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the smoke, which
the wind had driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed,
they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill ina similarMARMION. 315

order of battle, and in deep silence.! The Earls of Huntley anc
of 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 interval of the
divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to have kept
the victors-in etfectual 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 enco-
miums, 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, an

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 sue:
cess of the English was yet more decisive; for the Scottish right
wing, consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, commanded by Len-
vox and Argyle, was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward
Stanley, and especially the severe execution of the Lancashire ar-
chers. The King and Surrey, who commanded the respective
centres of their armies, were meanwhile engaged in close and du-
pious conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom,
and impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by
his reserve under Bothweli, charged with such fury, that the stand:
ard 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 intoa circle, disputed the battle till
night came on. Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scot-
tish centre not having been broken, and the left wing being victo-
rious, he yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish army,
however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of battle in dis-
order, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten thou-
sand men; but that included the very prime of their nobility, gen-
try, and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence but has an an-
eestor killed at Flodden; and there is no province in Scotland,
even at this day, where the battle is mentioned without a sensation

1 «* Lesquels Escossois descend irent la montaigne en bonne ordre.
enla maniere que marchent les Allemans, sans parler, ny faire aucun
pruit..” —Gazette of the Battle, Prvkerton’s History, Appendix,
yol. ii. p. 406.316 APPENDIX ‘1'0

of terror and sorrow. The English also lost a great number of
men, perhaps within one-third of the vanquished, but they were of
inferior note.—Scee the only distinct detail of the Field of Flodden
in PINKERTON’S History, Book xi. ; all former accounts being ful
of blunders and inconsistency.

The spot from which Clara views the battle, must be supposed to
have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the English right
wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion is sup
posed to have fallen.! ©

Note 3 R.
Beseem’d the monarch slain.—P. 249.

There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of Flod-
den. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette, within a lance’s
length of the Ear] of Surrey; and the same account adds, that none
of his division were made prisoners, though many were killed; a
circumstance that testifies the desperation of their resistance. The
Scottish historians record many of the idle reports which passed
among the vulgar of their day. Home wasaccused, 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 thistale was
revived in my remembrance, by an unauthenticated story ofa
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 enquiry, I could never find any better authority, than
the sexton of the parish having said, that, if the well were cleancad

1 (In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone’s workmen were dig
ging in Flodden Field, they came to a pit filled with human bones,
and which seemed of great extent ; but, alarmed at the sight, they
immediately filled up 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 Field, a tu-
mulus, 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 picces by the stones falling upon it when
digging, or had gone to pieces on the admission of the air. This
urn was surrounded by a number of cells 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’ Local Records,
(2 vols. 8vo, 1883,) vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.}P.

* MARMION, . 317

out, he would not be surprised at such a discovery. Home was the
ehamberlain of the King, and his prime favourite ; he had much
to lose (in fact did lose all) in consequence of James’s death, and
nothing earthly to gain by that event: but the retreat, or inactivi-
ty, of the left wing, which he commanded, after defeating Sir Ed-
mund Howard, and even the circumstance of his returning unhurt,
and loaded with spoil, from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propa-
gation of any calumny against him easy and acceptable. Other
reports gave a still more romantic turn to the King’s fate, and
averred, that James, weary of greatness after the carnage among
his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage, to merit absolution for the
death of his father, and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry.
In particular, it was objected to the English, that they could never
show the token of the iron belt; which, however, 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 histime. An unhewn column marks the spot where James fell,
atill called the King’s Stone.

Nore 3 S.

 

wien fanatic Brook
The fair Cathedral stornvd and took.—P. 249.

This storm of Lichfield Cathedral, which had been garrisoned on
the part of the King, took place in the Great Civil War. Lord
Brook, who, with Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was
shot with a musket-ball through the vizor of his helmet. The roy-
alists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St. Chad’s
Cathedral, and upon St. Chad’s day, and received his death-wound
in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped to see the ruin
of all the cathedrals in England. The magnificent church in ques-
tion sufferea cruelly upon this, and other occasions; the principal
spire being ruined by the fire ofthe besiegers.

THE END.See I mins nA ar ag ru a mn aw ee