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With falcons broider'd on each breast,

“ Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Attended on their lord's behest.

Knight of the crest of gold! Each, chosen for an archer good,

A blazon'd shield, in battle won,
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood;

Ne'er guarded heart so bold.”
Each one a six-foot bow could bend,
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send;

XII.
Each held a boar-spear tough and strong,

They marshall’d him to the Castle-hall, And at their belts their quivers rung.

Where the guests stood all aside, Their dusty palfreys, and array,

And loudly flourish'd the trumpet-call, Show'd they had march'd a weary way.

And the heralds loudly cried,

-“ Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, IX.

With the crest and helm of gold ! 'Tis meet that I should tell you now,

Full well we know the trophies won How fairly arm'd, and order'd how,

In the lists at Cottiswold: The soldiers of the guard,

There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove With musket, pike, and morion,

'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; To welcome noble Marmion,

To him he lost his lady-love, Stood in the Castle-yard;

And to the King his land. Minstrels and trumpeters were there,

Ourselves beheld the listed field, The gunner held his linstock yare,

A sight both sad and fair; For welcome-shot prepared :

We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, Enter'd the train, and such a clang,'

And saw his saddle bare; As then through all his turrets rang,

We saw the victor win the crest Old Norham never heard.

He wears with worthy pride;

And on the gibbet-tree, reversed,
X.

His foeman's scutcheon tied.
The guards their morrice-pikes advanced,

Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! The trumpets flourish'd brave,

Room, room, ye gentles gay, The cannon from the ramparts glanced,

For him who conquer'd in the right,
And thundering welcome gave.

Marmion of Fontenaye!”
A blithe salute, in martial sort,
The minstrels well might sound,

XIII.
For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court,

Then stepp'd to meet that noble Lord, He scatter'd angels round.

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, “ Welcome to Norham, Marmion!

Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, Stout heart, and open hand!

And Captain of the Hold. Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan,

He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Thou flower of English land !"

Raised o'er the pavement high,

And placed him in the upper place-
XI.

They feasted full and high:
Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck,

The whiles a Northern harper rude With silver scutcheon round their neck,

Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, Stood on the steps of stone,

How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all, By which you reach the donjon gate,

Stout Willimondswick, And there, with herald pomp and state,

And Hardriding Dick, They hail'd Lord Marmion : 2

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye,

Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,

And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw." Of Tamworth tower and town;8

Scantily Lord Marmnion's ear could brook And he, their courtesy to requite,

The harper's barbarous lay; Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight,

Yet much he praised the pains he took, All as he lighted down.

And well those pains did pay:

I MS" And when he enter'd, such a clang,

the scenes, in a degree which no general description could As through the echoing turrets rang."

suggest; nor could we so completely enter the Castle with

Lord Marmion, were any circumstances of the description 2 " The most picturesque of all poets, Homer, is frequently omitted." -- British Critic. minute, to the utmost degree, in the description of the dresses

3 See Appendix, Note I. 4 Ibid. Note K. and accoutrements of his personages. These particulars, often

6 MS.-" Cleave his shield." inconsiderable in themselves, have the effect of giving truth and identity to the picture, and assist the mind in realizing 6 See Appendix, Note L.

7 Ibid, Note M.

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 rust,

May breathe your war-horse well;
Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust

Or feat of arms befell:
The Scots can rein a mettled steed;

And love to couch a spear;
Saint George ! a stirring life they lead,

That bave 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.

XVI.
Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest;

He rolld 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: 4 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.5

XVII.
Unmark'd, at least unreck’d, the taunt,

Careless the Knight replied,
“ No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt,

Delights in cage to bide:
Norham is grim and grated close,
Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse,

And many a darksome tower;
And better loves my lady bright
To sit in liberty and light,

In fair Queen Margaret's bower.
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."

1

XV.
The Captain mark'd his alter'a look,

And gave a squire the sign;
A mighty wassail-bowl he took,

And crown'd it high in 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 seem'd for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare,

The slender silk to lead :
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,

His bosom-when he sigh’d,
The russet doublet's rugged fold

Could scarce repel its pride!
Say, hast thou given that lovely youth

To serve in lady's bower ?
Or was the gentle page, in sooth,

A gentle paramour ?”

XVIII. “ Nay, if with Royal James's bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Bebold 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,”

-8

I MS.—" And let me pray thee fair."
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,

And answer'd stern and high :
* That page thou did'st so closely eye,

So fair of hand and skin,
Is come, I ween, of lincage high,

And of thy lady's kin.

l'hat youth, so like a paramour,

Who wept for shame and pride,
Was erst, in Wilton's lordly bower,

Sir Ralph de Wilton's bride."" 4 See Note 2 B, cantu ii. stanza l. 6 MS.--" Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dame." 8 MS.--" The captain gay replied." 7 MS." She'll stoop again when tired her wing." 8 See Appendix, Note N.

XIX.

Since, on the vigil of St. Berle, " For such-like need, my lord, I trow,

In evil hour, he cross'd the Tweed, Norham can find you guides enow;

To teach Dame Alison her creed. For here be some have prick'd as far,

Old Bughtrig found him with his wife ; On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar;

And John, an enemy to strife, Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,

Sans frock and hood, fled for his life. And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ;

The jealous churl hath deeply swore, Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods,

That, if again he venture o'er, And given them light to set their hoods.”

He shall shrieve penitent no more.

Little he loves such risks, I know;
XX.

Yet, in your guard, perchance will go." “ Now, in good sooth,” Lord Marmion cried,

XXII. “ Were I in warlike wise to ride,

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, A better guard I would not lack,

Carved to his uncle and that lord, Than your stout forayers at my back;

And reverently took up the word. But, as in form of peace I go,

“ Kind uncle, woe were we each one, A friendly messenger, to know,

If harm should hap to brother Jolin. Why through all Scotland, near and far,

He is a man of mirthful speech, Their King is mustering troops for war,

Can many a game and gambol teach : The sight of plundering Border spears

Full well at tables can he play, Might justify suspicious fears,

And sweep at bowls the stake away. And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil,

None can a lustier carol bawl, Break out in some unseemly broil:

The needfullest among us all, A herald were my fitting guide;

When time hangs heavy in the hall, Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;

And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, Or pardoner, or travelling priest,

And we can neither hunt, nor ride Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.”

A foray on the Scottish side.

The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude,
XXI.

May end in worse than loss of hood.
The Captain mused a little space,

Let Friar John, in safety, still And pass'd his hand across his face.

In chimney-corner snore his fill, -“ Fain would I find the guide you want,

Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill: But ill may spare a pursuivant,

Last night, to Norham there came one, The only men that safe can ride

Will better guide Lord Marmion.”Mine errands on the Scottish side:

Nephew," quoth Heron,“ by my fay, And though a bishop built this fort,

Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say."Few holy brethren here resort; Even our good chaplain, as I ween,

XXIII. Since our last siege, we have not seen:

“ Here is a holy Palmer come, The mass he might not sing or say,

From Salem first, and last from Rome; Upon one stinted meal a-day;

One, that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb, So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,

And visited each holy shrine, And pray'd for our success the while.

In Araby and Palestine; Our Norham vicar, woe betide,

On hills of Armenie hath been, Is all too well in case to ride;

Where Noah's ark may yet be seen; The priest of Shoreswood?_he could rein

By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, The wildest war-horse in your train;

Which parted at the prophet's rod; But then, no spearman in the hall

In Sinai's wilderness he saw Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.

The Mount, where Israel heard the law, Friar John of Tillmouth were the man.

'Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin, A blithesome brother at the can,

And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. A welcome guest in hall and bower,

He shows Saint James's cockle-shell, He knows each castle, town, and tower,

Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell; In which the wine and ale is good,

And of that Grot where Olives nod, "Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.

Where, darling of each heart and eye, But that good man, as ill befalls,

Fruin all the youth of Sicily, Hath seldom left our castle walls,

Saint Rosalie 4 retired to God.5

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See Appendix, Note 0.

2 Ibid. Note P. • MS -" And of the olives' shaded cell."

4 MS.-" Retired to God St. Rosalie." 6 See Appendix, Note Q.

XXIV.

Himself still sleeps before his beads " To stout Saint George of Norwich merry,

Have mark'd ten aves, and two creeds.”_A
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury,
Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede,

XXVII.
For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd.

-“ Let pass,” quoth Marmion; “ by iny He knows the passes of the North,

fay, And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth;

This man shall guide me on my way, Little be eats, and long will wake,

Although the great arch-fiend and he And drinks but of the stream or lake.

Had sworn themselves of company. This were a guide o'er moor and dale;

So please you, gentle youth, to call But, when our John hath quaff’d his ale,

This Palmert to the Castle-ball." As little as the wind that blows,

The summond Palmer came in place ; And warms itself against his nose,

His sable cowl o'erhung his face ; Kens he, or cares, which way he goes.”_2

In his black mantle was he clad,

With Peter's keys, in cloth of red,
XXV.

On his broad shoulders wrought; “Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion,

The scallop shell his cap did deck; “ Full loth were I, that Friar John,

The crucifix around his neck That venerable man, for me,

Was from Loretto brought; Were placed in fear or jeopardy.

His sandals were with travel tore, If this same Palmer will me lead

Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore; From hence to Holy-Rood,

The faded palm-branch in his hand
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed,

Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land.”
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead,
With angels fair and good.

XXVIII.
I love such holy ramblers; still

When as the Palmer came in hall, 'They know to charm a weary bill,

Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, With song, romance, or lay:

Or had a statelier step withal, Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,

Or look’d more high and keen; Some lying legend, at the least,

For no saluting did he wait, They bring to cheer the way.”

But strode across the hall of state,

And fronted Marmion where he sate”
XXVI.

As he his peer had been. " Ah! noble sir,” young Selby said,

But his gaunt frame was worn with toil; And finger on his lip he laid,

His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! “ This man knows much, perchance e'en more And when he struggled at a smile, Than he could learn by holy lore.

His eye look'd haggard wild: Still to himself he's muttering,

Poor wretch! the mother that him bare, And shrinks as at some unseen thing.

If she had been in presence there, Last night we listen’d at his cell;

In his wan face, and sun-burn'd hair, Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell,

She had not known her child. He murmur'd on till morn, howe'er

Danger, long travel, want, or woe, No living mortal could be near.

Soon change the form that best we know. Sometimes I thought I heard it plain,

For deadly fear can time outgo, As other voices spoke again.

And blanch at once the hair; I cannot tell—I like it not

Hard toil can roughen form and face, Friar John hath told us it is wrote,

And want can quench the eye's bright grace, No conscience clear, and void of wrong,

Nor does old age a wrinkle trace Can rest awake, and pray so long.

More deeply than despair. 1 MS.—"And with metheglin warm’d his nose,

offends in the same sort, nor can we easily conceive, how ang As little as," &c.

one could venture, in a serious poem, to speak of

the wind that blows, 2 " This poem has faults of too great magnitude to be pas

And warms itself against his nose.

.'"-JEFFREY.] sed without notice. There is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in some passages, which we think must be offensive to every

8 See Appendix, Note R.

4 Ibid. Note S. reader of delicacy, and which are not, for the most part, re- 5 “ The first presentment of the mysterious Palmer is lauddeemed by any vigour or picturesque effect. The venison able." - JEFFREY. pasties, we think, are of this description; and this commemo- & MS. - And near Lord Marmion took his seat." ration of Sir Hugh Heron's troopers, who

7 MS. — “Hard toil can alter form and face,

roughen youthful grace. Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,' &c.

And want can quench } the eyes of grace. The long account of Friar John, though not without merit,

dim

Happy whom none of these befall,

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse: But this poor Palmer knew them all.

Then came the stirrup-cup in course:

Between the Baron and his host,
XXIX.

No point of courtesy was lost;
Lord Marmion then his boon did ask;

High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, The Palmer took on him the task,

Solemn excuse the Captain made, So ho would march with morning tide,

Till, filing from the gate, had pass’d To Scottish court to be his guide.

That noble train, their Lord the last. “ But I have solemn vows to pay,

Then loudly rung the trumpet call; And may not linger by the way,

Thunder'd the cannon from the wall, To fair St. Andrews bound,

And shook the Scottish shore; Within the ocean-cave to pray,

Around the castle eddied slow, Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,

Volumes of smoke as white as snow, From midnight to the dawn of day,

And hid its turrets hoar; Sung to the billows' sound ;3

Till they rollid forth upon the air, Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,

And met the river breezes there,
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel,

Which gave again the prospect fair.
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 !”

Marmian.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND.

TO THE

5

XXX.
And now the midnight draught of sleep,
Where wine and spices richly steep,
In massive bowl of silver deep,

The page presents on knee.
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest,
The Captain pledged his noble guest,
The cup went through among the rest,

Who drain'd it merrily;
Alone the Palmer pass'd it by,
Though Selby press'd him courteously.
This was a sign the feast was o'er ;
It hush'd the merry wassel roar,

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

Pacing his sober round.

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, 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;

XXXI.
With early dawn Lord Marmion rose :
And first the chapel doors unclose;
Then, after morning rites were done,
(A hasty mass from Friar John,)
And knight and squire had broke their fast,
On rich substantial repast,

1 MS.-"Happy whom none such woes befall."

10"The second epistle opens again with ‘chance and change; 2 MS." So he would ride with morning tide.'

but it cannot be denied that the mode in which it is intro3 See Appendix, Note T. 4 Ibid. Note U.

duced is new and poetical. The comparison of Ettrick Po

rest, now open and naked, with the state in which it once was 6 MS.--"The cup pass'd round among the rest."

- covered with wood, the favourite resort of the royal hunt, & MS.--"Soon died the merry wassel roar."

and the refuge of daring outlaws-leads the poet to imagino 7 “In Catholic countries, in order to reconcile the plea- an ancient thorn gifted with the powers of reason, and relating sures of the great with the observances of religion, it was com- the various scenes which it has witnessed during a period of mon, when a party was bent for the chase, to celebrate mass, three hundred years. A melancholy train of fancy is natuabridged and maimed of its rites, called a hunting-mass, the rally encouraged by the idea."- Monthly Review. brevity of which was designed to correspond with the impa

11 Mountain-ash. tience of the audience."--Note to The Abbot." New Edit. 8 MS.—“Slow they roll'd forth upon the air."

MS.-" How broad the ash his shadows flung, See Appendix, Note V.

How to the rock the rowan clung."

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