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Gu, and to tame thy wandering course,
On thee relenting Heaven bestows Quaff from the fountain at the source;
For honour'd life an honour'd close ;' Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb
And when revolves, in time's sure change, Immortal laurels ever bloom:
The hour of Germany's revenge, Instructive of the feebler bard,
When, breathing fury for her sake,
Some new Arminius shall awake,
To whet his sword on BRUNSWICK's tomb.
“ Or of the Red-Cross hero4 teach,
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : « Or deem'st thou not our later time!
Alike to him the sea, the shore, Yields topic meet for classic rhyme !
The brand, the bridle, or the oar: Hast thou no elegiac verse
Alike to him the war that calls For Brunswick's venerable hearse?
Its votaries to the shatter'd walls, What! not a line, a tear, a sigh,
Which the grim Turk, besmear'd with blood, When valour bleeds for liberty?
Against the Invincible made good; Oh, hero of that glorious time,
Or that, whose thundering voice could wake When, with unrivall'd light sublime,
The silence of the polar lake, Though martial Austria, and though all
When stubborn Russ, and metal'd Swede, The might of Russia, and the Gaul,
On the warp'd wave their death-game Though banded Europe stood ber foes
play'd; The star of Brandenburgh arose !
Or that, where Vengeance and Affright Thou couldst not live to see her beam
Howl'd round the father of the fight, For ever quench'd in Jena's stream.
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, Lamented Chief !-not thine the power,
And emulate the notes that wrung To save in that presumptuous hour,
From the wild harp, which silent hung When Prussia hurried to the field,
By silver Avon's holy shore, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield !
Till twice an hundred years rolld o'er; Valour and skill 'twas thine to try,
When she, the bold Enchantress, came, And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die.
With fearless hand and heart on flame! Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair
From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, The last, the bitterest pang to share,
And swept it with a kindred measure, For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven,
Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove And birthrights to usurpers given;
With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel,
Awakening at the inspired strain, And witness woes thou couldst not heal!
Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again.”
The general's eye, the pilot's art,
MS.-“ Dost thou not deem our later day
Yields topic meet for classic lay?
When valour bleeds for liberty?"
The boon which falling heroes crave,
3 “ Scott seems to have communicated fragments of the poem very freely during the whole of its progress. As early as the 22d February 1817, I find Mrs. Hayman acknowledging, in the name of the Princess of Wales, the receipt of a copy of the Introduction to Canto III., in which occurs the tribute to her royal highness's heroic father, mortally wounded the year before at Jena-a tribute so grateful to her feelings that she herself shortly after sent the poet an elegant silver vase as a memorial of her thankfulness. And ahout the same tim» the Marchioness of Abercorn expresses the delight with which both she and her lord had read the generous verses on Piti and Fox in another of those epistles."- Life of Scoil, vol iii. p. 9.
4 Sir Sidney Smith.
Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, With praises not to me belonging,
Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour.? In task more meet for mightiest powers,
Though no broad river swept along, Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours.
To claim, perchance, heroic song; But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd
Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, That secret power by all obey'd,
To prompt of love a softer tale; Which warps not less the passive mind,
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed Its source conceal'd or undefined ;
Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed; Whether an impulse, that has birth
Yet was poetic impulse given, Soon as the infant wakes on earth,
By the green hill and clear blue heaven. One with our feelings and our powers,
It was a barren scene, and wild, And rather part of us than ours;
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; Or whether fitlier term’d the sway
But ever and anon between Of habit, form'd in early day?
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; Howe'er derived, its force confest
And well the lonely infant knew Rules with despotic sway the breast,
Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And drags us on by viewless chain,
And honey-suckle loved to crawl While taste and reason plead in vain.'
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. Look east, and ask the Belgian why,
I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade Beneath Batavia's sultry sky,
The sun in all its round survey'd; He seeks not eager to inhale
And still I thought that shatter'd tower * The freshness of the mountain gale,
The mightiest work of human power ; Content to rear his whiten'd wall
And marvell’d as the aged hind Beside the dank and dull canal ?
With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind, He'll say, from youth he loved to see
Of forayers, who, with headlong force, The white sail gliding by the tree.
Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, Or see yon weatherbeaten hind,
Their southern rapine to renew, Whose sluggish herds before him wind,
Far in the distant Cheviots blue, Whose tatter'd plaid and rugged cheek
And, home returning, fill’d the hall His northern clime and kindred speak;
With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl.5 Through England's laughing meads he goes, Methought that still with trump and clang, And England's wealth around him flows;
The gateway's broken arches rang; Ask, if it would content him well,
Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, At ease in those gay plains to dwell,
Glared through the window's rusty bars, Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen,
And ever, by the winter hearth, And spires and forests intervene,
Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, And the neat cottage peeps between ?
Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, No ! not for these will he exchange
Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; His dark Lochaber's boundless range:
Of patriot battles, won of old Not for fair Devon's meads forsake
By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold; Bennevis grey, and Garry's lake.
Of later fields of feud and fight,
When, pouring from their Highland height, Thus while I ape the measure wild
The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Of tales that charm’d me yet a child,
Had swept the scarlet ranks away. Rude though they be, still with the chime
While stretch'd at length upon the floor, Return the thoughts of early time;
Again I fought each comhat o'er, And feelings, roused in life's first day,
Pebbles and shells, in order laid, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay.
The mimic ranks of war display'd ;
1 “As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death;
" Nature its mother, Habit is ity nurse; Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worke:
Reason itself but gives it edge and power;
Pope's Essay on sian-ED
That caught attention's wakening hour."
4 Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the
Again my sport the combat tells-
And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,
Still, with rain fondness, could I trace,
Ry glen and streamlet winded still,
For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask
On through the hamlet as they paced,
Lord Marmion drew his rein:
Might well relieve his train.
The Hostel, or Inn.
1. The livelong day Lord Marmion rode: The mountain path the Palmer show'd,
Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze,
Bore wealth of winter cheer;
I See notes on The Eve of St. John.
minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is * Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet. i situated.
3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that 5 MS.-“They might not choose the easier road, the lines,
For many a forayer was abroad."
6 See Notes to “ The Bride of Lammermoor." Waverley " Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Novels, vols, xiii. and xiv. Content with equity unbought:"
7 The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddingbave been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's ton: close to it is Yester House, the seat of the Marquis of beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton.—1808. Note Tweeddale, and a little farther up the stream, which descends to Second Edit
from the hills of Lammermoor, are the remains of the old * MS.-" The student, gentleman, and saint."
castle of the family. The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin. 8 See Appendix, Note 2 N.
How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,
Glances beneath his oowl!
Endure that sullen scowl."
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store,
And savoury haunch of deer.
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.
VII. But Marmion, as to chase the awe Which thus had quell’d their hearts, who
The ever-varying fire-light show
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.”
IV. Theirs was the glee of martial breast, And laughter theirs at little jest ; And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, And mingle in the mirth they made; For though, with men of high degree, The proudest of the proud was he, Yet, train’d in camps, he knew the art To win the soldier's hardy heart. They love a captain to obey, Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May; With open hand, and brow as free, Lover of wine and minstrelsy; Ever the first to scale a tower, As venturous in a lady's bower:Such buxom chief shall lead his host From India's fires to Zembla's frost.
VIII. “ So please you,” thus the youth rejoind, “ 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.”
V. Resting upon his pilgrim staff,
Right opposite the Palmer stood; Ilis 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 Palmer's visage fell.
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, Recallid fair Scotland's hills again!
Their glee and game declined.
Thus whisper'd forth his mind :“ Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sight?
Song. Where shali the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
1 MS. --" Pull met their eyes' encountering glance."
From his true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high,
Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die,
Under the willow.
And rested with his head a space,
Reclining on his hand. His thoughts I scan not; but I ween, That, could their import have been seer, The meanest groom in all the hall, That e'er tied courser to a stall, Would scarce have wish'd to he their prey, For Lutterward and Fontenaye.
Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.
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, Vever, 0 never!
XIII. 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, 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.”
CHORUS. Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never!
XI. Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying.
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!
For either in the tone,
That answer he found none.
A feather daunts the brave;
Before their meanest slave.
Eleu loro, &c. Never, 0 never !
XII. It ceased, the melancholy sound; And silence sunk on all around. The air was sad; but sadder still
It fell on Marmion's ear, And plain’d as if disgrace and ill,
And shameful death, were near. He drew his mantle past his face,
Between it and the band,
XV. Well might he falter !-By his aid Was Constance Beverley betray'}. Not that he augur'd of the doom, Which on the living closed the tomb: But, tired to hear the desperate maids Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;
| Seo Appendix, Note 2 0.
Whose haughty soul }could never brook
Even from his King, a scornful look." MS." But tired to hear the furious mall."