With falcons broider'd on each breast, IX. 'Tis meet that I should tell you now, Stood in the Castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepared: Enter'd the train, and such a clang,1 As then through all his turrets rang, Old Norham never heard. X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, The minstrels well might sound, Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, XI. Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, By which you reach the donjon gate, Of Tamworth tower and town;8 And he, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, All as he lighted down. 1 MS-" And when he enter'd, such a clang, As through the echoing turrets rang." "The most picturesque of all poets, Homer, is frequently minute, to the utmost degree, in the description of the dresses and accoutrements of his personages. These particulars, often inconsiderable in themselves, have the effect of giving truth and identity to the picture, and assist the mind in realizing "Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Knight of the crest of gold! A blazon'd shield, in battle won, XII. They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, A sight both sad and fair; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield," We saw the victor win the crest He wears with worthy pride; His foeman's scutcheon tied. For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, XIV. Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy, I pray you bide some little space In this poor tower with me. Here may you keep your arms from rust, May breathe your war-horse well; Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust Or feat of arms befell: The Scots can rein a mettled steed; XV. The Captain mark'd his alter'd look, Where hast thou left that page of thine, And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, But meeter seem'd for lady fair, Or through embroidery, rich and rare, His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, Say, hast thou given that lovely youth To serve in lady's bower? Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 1 MS.-"And let me pray thee fair." 2 MS.-"To rub a shield, or sharp a brand." 8 MS.-"Lord Marmion ill such jest could brook, He roll'd his kindling eye; Fix'd on the Knight his dark haught look, 'That page thou did'st so closely eye, So fair of hand and skin, Is come, I ween, of lineage high, And of thy lady's kin. XVI. Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, I left him sick in Lindisfarn: 4 XVII. Unmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, Norham is grim and grated close, In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 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."-7 XVIII. "Nay, if with Royal James's bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a messenger, I journey at our King's behest, 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,"-8 That youth, so like a paramour, 4 See Note 2 B, canto ii. stauza 1. MS.-"Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dama." 6 MS." The captain gay replied." 7 MS." She'll stoop again when tired her wing." 8 See Appendix, Note N. XIX. "For such-like need, my lord, I trow, Norham can find you guides enow; For here be some have prick'd as far, On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar; Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale; Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, And given them light to set their hoods."—1 XX. "Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, "Were I in warlike wise to ride, XXI. The Captain mused a little space, "Fain would I find the guide you want, But ill may spare a pursuivant, So, safe he sat in Durham aisle, And pray'd for our success the while. Is all too well in case to ride; The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein Since, on the vigil of St. Bede, XXII. Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 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, A foray on the Scottish side. The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, XXIII. "Here is a holy Palmer come, And of that Grot where Olives nod, Saint Rosalie retired to God." 4 MS.-"Retired to God St. Rosalie." 6 See Appendix, Note Q. XXIV. "To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. He knows the passes of the North, And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth; Little he eats, and long will wake, And drinks but of the stream or lake. This were a guide o'er moor and dale; But, when our John hath quaff'd his ale, As little as the wind that blows, And warms itself against his nose,' Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." XXV. "Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion, With angels fair and good. XXVI. "Ah! noble sir," young Selby said, And finger on his lip he laid, 2 "This man knows much, perchance e'en more Still to himself he's muttering, Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, I cannot tell-I like not Friar John hath told us it is wrote, No conscience clear, and void of wrong, IMS." And with metheglin warm'd his nose, ?" This poem has faults of too great magnitude to be passed without notice. There is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in some passages, which we think must be offensive to every reader of delicacy, and which are not, for the most part, reacemed by any vigour or picturesque effect. The venison pasties, we think, are of this description; and this commemoration of Sir Hugh Heron's troopers, who 'Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,' &c. The long account of Friar John, though not without merit, Himself still sleeps before his beads Have mark'd ten aves, and two creeds."—" XXVII. "Let pass," quoth Marmion; "by my fay, This man shall guide me on my way, On his broad shoulders wrought; Was from Loretto brought; XXVIII. When as the Palmer came in hall, Or look'd more high and keen; For no saluting did he wait, As he his peer had been. But his gaunt frame was worn with toil; His eye look'd haggard wild: Soon change the form that best we know— And blanch at once the hair; Hard toil can roughen form and face,7 And want can quench the eye's bright grace, Nor does old age a wrinkle trace More deeply than despair. And now the midnight draught of sleep, The page presents on knee. 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 knight and squire had broke their fast, 1 MS.-"Happy whom none such wocs befall.” 2 MS.-" So he would ride with morning tide." 7 "In Catholic countries, in order to reconcile the pleasures of the great with the observances of religion, it was common, when a party was bent for the chase, to celebrate mass, abridged and maimed of its rites, called a hunting-mass, the brevity of which was designed to correspond with the impatience of the audience."-Note to " The Abbot." New Edit. 8 MS." Slow they roll'd forth upon the air.' See Appendix, Note V. Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse: No point of courtesy was lost; High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, Marmion. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND TO THE REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A. M. Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. THE scenes are desert now, and bare, Where flourish'd once a forest fair,9 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,10 Since he, so grey and stubborn now, Waved in each breeze a sapling bough; Would he could tell how deep the shade A thousand mingled branches made; How broad the shadows of the oak, How clung the rowan to the rock, And through the foliage show'd his head, With narrow leaves and berries red; 10"The second epistle opens again with 'chance and change; but it cannot be denied that the mode in which it is introduced is now and poetical. The comparison of Ettrick Fo rest, now open and naked, with the state in which it once was -covered with wood, the favourite resort of the royal hunt, and the refuge of daring outlaws-leads the poet to imagino an ancient thorn gifted with the powers of reason, and relating the various scenes which it has witnessed during a period of three hundred years. A melancholy train of fancy is natu rally encouraged by the idea."-Monthly Review. 11 Mountain-ash. MS.-"How broad the ash his shadows flung, How to the rock the rowan clung." |