XXII.

"His squire, who now De Wilton saw As recreant doom'd to suffer law,

Repentant, own'd in vain,

That, while he had the scrolls in care,
A stranger maiden, passing fair,
Had drench'd him with a beverage rare:
His words no faith could gain.
With Clare alone he credence won,
Who, rather than wed Marmion,
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair,
To give our house her livings fair
And die a vestal vot'ress there.
The impulse from the earth was given,
But bent her to the paths of heaven.
A purer heart, a lovelier maid,
Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade,
No, not since Saxon Edelfled;

Only one trace of earthly strain,
That for her lover's loss
She cherishes a sorrow vain,

And murmurs at the cross.-
And then her heritage ;-it goes

Along the banks of Tame;

Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, In meadows rich the heifer lows, The falconer and huntsman knows Its woodlands for the game. Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, And I, her humble vot'ress here,

Should do a deadly sin,

Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes,
If this false Marmion such a prize
By my consent should win;

Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn
That Clare shall from our house be torn;
And grievous cause have I to fear,
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear.

XXIII.

"Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd
To evil power, I claim thine aid,
By every step that thou hast trod

To holy shrine and grotto dim,
By every martyr's tortured limb,
By angel, saint, and seraphim,

And by the Church of God!

For mark:-When Wilton was betray'd,
And with his squire forged letters laid,
She was, alas! that sinful maid,
By whom the deed was done,-
O shame and horror to be said!-

She was a perjured nun!
No clerk in all the land, like her,

MS.-"Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, Rose on a turret hexagon: (Dust unto dust, lead unto lead,

Traced quaint and varying character.
Perchance you may a inarvel 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 honor's stain,

Illimitable power:

For this she secretly retain'd

Each proof that might the plot reveal,
Instructions with his hand and seal·
And thus Saint Hilda deign'd,
Through sinner's perfidy impure,
Her house's glory to secure,

And Clare's immortal weal.

XXIV.

""Twere long, and needless, here to tell,
How to my hand these papers fell;
With me they must not stay.
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true!
Who knows what outrage he might do,
While journeying by the way?-
O, blessed Saint, if e'er again

I venturous leave thy calm domain,
To travel or by land or main,

Deep penance may I pay !—
Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer:
I give this packet to thy care,
For thee to stop they will not dare;
And O! with cautious speed,

To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,
That he may show them to the king:
And, for thy well-earn'd meed,
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine
A weekly mass shall still be thine,

While priests can sing and read.What ail'st thou ?-Speak !"-For as he took The charge, a strong emotion shook His frame; and, ere reply, They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, Like distant clarion feebly blown,

That on the breeze did die;

And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear,
"Saint Withold, save us!-What is here!

Look at yon City Cross!

See on its battled tower appear

Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear,

And blazon'd banners toss !"

XXV.

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.")-
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 naught confirm'd could ear or eye
Discern of sound or mien.
Yet darkly did it seem, as there
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare,
With trumpet sound and blazon fair,

A summons to proclaim; But indistinct the pageant proud, As fancy forms of midnight cloud, When flings the moon upon her shroud

A wavering tinge of flame;

It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,
From midmost of the spectre crowd,
This awful summons came:-3

XXVI.

Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, Whose names I now shall call, Scottish, or foreigner, give ear; Subjects of him who sent me here, At his tribunal to appear,

I summon one and all:

I cite you by each deadly sin,

That e'er hath 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'ermastering 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."

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.

XXVII.

Shift we the scene.-The camp doth move,
Dun-Edin's streets are empty now,
Save when, for weal of those they love,

To pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
The tottering child, the anxious fair,
The gray-hair'd sire, with pious care,
To chapels and to shrines repair-
Where is the Palmer now? and where
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare ?—
Bold Douglas! to Tantallon fair

They journey in thy charge:
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand,
The Palmer still was with the band;
Angus, like Lindesay, did command,

That nuns 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

Some desperate deed afar.

His courser would he feed and stroke
And, tucking up his sable frocke,
Would first his mettle bold provoke,

Then sooth or quell his pride.
Old Hubert said, that never one
He saw, except Lord Marmion,
A steed so fairly ride.

XXVIII.

Some half-hour's march behind, there came By Eustace govern'd fair,

A troop escorting Hilda's Dame,

MS.-"Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone, Before the mighty Morarch's throne, I cite you to appear."

• MS." In thundering tone the voice did say."