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And thou, and I, and dear-loved R

While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, And one whose name I may not say,–

Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, For not Mimosa's tender tree

“ Help, gentle Blount! help, comrades all ! Shrinks sooner from the touch than he,

Bevis lies dying in his stall: In merry chorus well combined,

To Marmion who the plight dare tell, With laughter drown'd the whistling wind.

Of the good steed he loves so well ?” Mirth was within; and Care without

Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout.

The charger panting on his straw;6 Not but amid the buxom scene

Till one, who would seem wisest, cried, Some grave discourse might intervene

“ What else but evil could betide, Of the good horse that bore him best,

With that cursed Palmer for our guide! His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest :

Better we had through mire and bush
For, like mad Tom's, our chiefest care,

Been lantern-led by Friar Rush.”
Was horse to ride, and weapon wear.
Such nights we've had; and, though the game

II.
Of manhood be more sober tame,

Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess'd, And though the field-day, or the drill,

Nor whoily understood, Seem less important now-yet still

His comrades' clamorous plaints suppress'd; Such may we hope to share again.

He knew Lord Marmion's mood. The sprightly thought inspires my strain!

Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, And mark, how, like a horseman true,

And found deep plunged in gloomy thought,
Lord Marmion's march I thus renew.

And did his tale display
Simply as if he knew of nought

To cause such disarray.

Lord Marmion gave attention cold,
Marmian.

Nor marvell’d at the wonders told,
Pass'd them as accidents of course,
And bade his clarions sound to horse.

CANTO FOURTH.

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III.
The Camp.

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost

Had réckon'd with their Scottish host;
I.

And, as the charge he cast and paid,
EUSTACE, I said, did blithely mark

“ Ill thou deserv'st thy hire,” he said ; The first notes of the merry lark.

“ Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight! The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew,

Fairies have ridden him all the night, And loudly Marmion's bugles blew,

And left him in a foam! And with their light and lively call,

I trust that soon a conjuring band, Brought groom and yeoman to the stall.

With English cross, and blazing brand, Whistling they came, and free of heart,

Shall drive the devils from this land, But soon their mood was changed;

To their infernal home: Complaint was heard on every part,

For in this haunted den, I trow, Of something disarranged.

All night they trample to and fro.”— Some clamour'd loud for armour lost;

The laughing host look'd on the hire,Some brawlid and wrangled with the host;

“ Gramercy, gentle southern squire, “ By Becket's bones," cried one, “ I fear,

And if thou comest among the rest, That some false Scot has stolen my spear!”- With Scottish broadsword to be blest, Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire, Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, Found his steed wet with sweat and mire;

And short the pang to undergo.” Although the rated horse-boy sware,

Here stay'd their talk,-for Marmion Last night he dress’d him sleek and fair.

Gave now the signal to set on. 1 Sir William Rae of St. Catharine's, Bart., subsequently through life an intimate, and latterly a generous friend of Sir Lord Advocate of Scotland, was a distinguished member of Walter Scott-died 24th October 1828. —ED. the volunteer corps to which Sir Walter Scott belonged; and

3 See King Lear. he, the Poet, Mr. Skene. Mr. Mackenzie, and a few other

4 MS. -"Such nights we've had ; and though our game friends, had formed themselves into a little semi-military

Advance of years may something tame." club, the meetings of which were held at their family suppertables in rotation.-ED.

6 MS.—"By Becket's bones," cried one, “I swear." . The gentleman whose name the Poet "might not say,"

6 MS.—"The good horse panting on the straw." was the late Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Bart., son of the 7 See Appendix, Note 2 X. author of the Life of Beattie, and brother-in-law of Mr. Skene, 8 MS.—"With bloody cross and fiery brand."

The Palmer showing forth the way, They journey'd all the morning day.'

Un pranang steeds they forward press'd,
With scarlet mantle, azure vest;
Each at his trump a banner wore,
Which Scotland's royal scutcheon' bore :
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.

IV.
The green-sward way was smooth and good,
Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood;
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.3
Therefore he spoke,--but spoke in vain,
For Marmion answer'd nought again.

VII.
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.
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 !?

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 Marinion'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.

VI. First came the trumpets, at whose clang So late the forest echoes rang;

VIII. 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,

"M8.—"They journeyed till the middle day."

MS.-"Upon a black and ponderous tome." 3 William Caxton, the earliest English printer, was born in Kent, A.D. 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.

• The MS. has “Scotland's royal Lion" here ; in line 9th,

" scarlet tabards ;" and in line 12th, “ blazoned truncheon." 5 MS.--"The flash of that satiric rage,

Which, bursting from the early stage,

Lash'd the coarse vices of the age," &c. O MS.-"Silver unicorn." This, and the seven preceding lines, are interpolated in the blank page of the MS

7 See Appendix, Note 2 Y.

Whom royal James himself had crown'd,

When deadliest hatred fired its foes,
And on his temples placed the round

The vengeful Douglas bands.
Of Scotland's ancient diadem:
And wet his brow with hallow'd wine,

XI.
And on his finger given to shine

Crichtoun! though now thy miry court The emblematic gem.

But pens the lazy steer and sheep, Their mutual greetings duly made,

Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Keep, The Lion thus his message said:

Have been the minstrel's loved resort. “ Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore ! Oft have I traced, within thy fort, Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more,

Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, And strictly hath forbid resort

Scutcheons of honour, or pretence, From England to his royal court;

Quarter'd in old armorial sort, Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name,

Remains of rude magnificence. And honours much his warlike fame,

Nor wholly yet had time defaced My liege hath deem'd it shame, and lack

Thy lordly gallery fair; Of courtesy, to turn him back;

Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, And, by his order, I, your guide,

Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, Must lodging fit and fair provide,

Adorn thy ruin'd stair. Till finds King James meet time to see

Still rises unimpair'd below, The flower of English chivalry.”

The court-yard's graceful portico;

Above its cornice, row and row
IX,

Of fair hewn facets richly show
Though inly chafed at this delay,

Their pointed diamond form, Lord Marmion bears it as he may,

Though there but houseless cattle go, The Palmer, his mysterious guide,

To shield them from the storm. Beholding thus his place supplied,

And, shuddering, still may we explore, Sought to take leave in vain :

Where oft whilom were captives pent, Strict was the Lion-King's command,

The darkness of thy Massy More ; That none, who rode in Marmion's band,

Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, Should sever from the train:

May trace, in undulating line, “ England has here enow of spies

The sluggish mazes of the Tyne.
In Lady Heron's witching eyes :"
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said,

XII.
But fair pretext to Marmion made.

Another aspect Crichtoun show'd, The right hand path they now decline,

As through its portal Marmion rode; And trace against the stream the Tyne.

But yet 'twas melancholy state

Received him at the outer gate;
X.

For none were in the Castle then,
At length up that wild dale they wind,

But women, boys, or aged men. Where Crichtoun Castle crown's the

With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing danie, bank;

To welcome noble Marmion, came; For there the Lion's care assigned

Her son, a stripling twelve years old, A lodging meet for Marmion's rank.

Proffer'd the Baron's rein to hold; That Castle rises on the steep

For each man that could draw a sword Of the green vale of Tyne:

Had march'd that morning with their lord, And far beneath, where slow they creep,

Earl Adam Hepburn,-he who died From pool to eddy, dark and deep,

On Flodden, by his sovereign's side, Where alders moist, and willows weep,

Long may his Lady look in vain ! You hear her streams repine.3

She ne'er shall see his gallant train, 8 The towers in different ages rose;

Come sweeping back through CrichtounTheir various architecture shows

Dean. The builders' various hands;

'Twas a brave race, before the name A mighty mass, that could oppose,*

Of hated Bothwell stain'd their fame.

*** &c.

1 MS.—"The Lion-King his message said :

'My Liege hath deep and deadly swore,' ? See Appendix, Note 2 Z; and, for a fuller description of Crichton Castle, see Sir Walter Scott's Miscellaneous Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 157.

3 MS.-" Her lazy streams repine."

* MS." But the huge mass could well oppose."
6 MS.—"Of many a mouldering shield the sense."
& The pit, or prison vault.-See Appendix, Note 2 2.
7 See Appendix, Note 3 A.
8 MS. -"Well might his gentle Lady mourn,

Doom'd ne'er to see her Lord's return."

XV.

XIII.
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."

Sir David Lindesay's Tale.
“ Of all the palaces so fair,

Built for the royal dwelling,
In Scotland, far beyond compare

Linlithgow is excelling ; 8
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 month in all the year :
Too well his cause of grief you know,
June saw his father's overthrow.7
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.8

XIV.
It chanced, as fell the second night,

That on the battlements they walk’d,
And, by the slowly fading light,

Of varying topics talked ;
And, unaware, the Herald-bard?
Said, Marmion might his toil bave spared,

In travelling so far;
For that a messenger from heaven
In vain to James had counsel given

Against the English war ;8
And, closer question'd, thus he told
A tale, which chronicles of old
In Scottish story have enrollid :

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-

I MS."Nor less the Herald Monarch knew

The sport of hunting was also followed with success in the The Baron's powers to value true

neighbourhood, from which circumstance it probably arises Hence confidence between them grew."

that the ancient arms of the city represent a black greyhound ? MS._"Then fell from Lindesay, unaware,

bitch tied to a tree. ... The situation of Linlithgow Palace That Marmion might } his labour spare.”

is eminently beautiful. It stands on a promontory of somo Marmion might well

elevation, which advances almost into the midst of the lake.

The form is that of a square court, composed of buildings of 3 See Appendix, Note 3 B.

four stories high, with towers at the angles. The fronts within 4 "In some places, Mr. Scott's love of variety has betrayed the square, and the windows, are highly ornamented, and the him into strange imitations. This is evidently formed on the size of the rooms, as well as the width and character of the wchool of Sternhold and Hopkins,–

staircases, are upon a magnificent scale. One banquet-room Of all the palaces so fair,'" &c.

is ninety-four feet long, thirty feet wide, and thirty-three feet JEFFREY.

high, with a gallery for music. The king's wardrobe or dress• In Scotland there are about twenty palaces, castles, and ing-room, looking to the west, projects over the walls, so as remains, or sites of such,

to have a delicious prospect on three sides, and is one of the

most enviable boudoirs we have ever seen."-81R WALTER “Where Scutia's kings of other years"

Scott's Miscellaneous Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 382, &c. had their royal home.

o See Appendix, Note 3 C. “ Linlithgow, distinguished by tho combined strength and beauty of its situation, must have been early selected as a

7 See Appendix, Note 3 D. royal residence. David, who bought the title of saint by his

8 MS.--"In offices as strict as Lent, liberality to the Church, refers several of his charters to his

And penances his Junes are spent." town of Linlithgow; and in that of Holyrood expressly bestows on the new monastery all the skins of the rams, ewes, 9 MS.—"For now the year brought round again and lambs, belonging to his castle of Linlitcu, which shall

The very day that he die during the year. . . . The convenience afforded for the The day that the third James } was slainsport of falconry, which was so great a favourite during the

In Katharine's aisle the Monarch kneels, feudal ages, was probably one cause of the attachment of the

And folded hands ancient Scottish monarchs to Linlithgow and its fine lake.

And hands pore Clasped } show what he feels."

seems

In Katharine's aisle the Monarch knelt,

XVIII. With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt,

While Lindesay told his marvel strange, And eyes with sorrow streaming ;

The twilight was so pale, Around him in their stalls of state,

He mark'd not Marmion's colour change, The Thistle's Knight Companions sate,

While listening to the tale; Their banners o'er them beaming.

But, after a suspended pause, I too was there, and, sooth to tell,

The Baron spoke:-“ Of Nature's laws Bedeafen'd with the jangling knell,

So strong I held the force, Was watching where the sunbeams fell,

That never superhuman ca

cause Through the stain'd casement gleaming;

Could e'er control their course. But, while I marked what next befell,

And, three days since, had judged your aim It seem'd as I were dreaming.

Was but to make your guest your game. Stepp'd from the crowd a ghostly wight,

But I have seen, since past the Tweed, In azure gown, with cincture white;

What much has changed my sceptic creed, His forehead bald, his head was bare,

And made me credit aught.”—He staid, Down hung at length his yellow hair.-

And seem'd to wish his words unsaid: Now, mock me not, when, good my Lord,

But, by that strong emotion pressid, I pledge to you my knightly word,

Which prompts us to unload our breast, That, when I saw his placid grace,

Even when discovery's pain, His simple majesty of face,

To Lindesay did at length unfold His solemn bearing, and his pace

The tale his village host had told, So stately gliding on,

At Gifford, to his train. Seem'd to me ne'er did limner paint

Nought of the Palmer says he there, So just an image of the Saint,

And nought of Constance, or of Clare; Who propp'd the Virgin in her faint,

The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he The loved Apostle John !

To mention but as feverish dreams. XVII. “He stepp'd before the Monarch's chair,

XIX. And stood with rustic plainness there,

" In vain,” said he, “ to rest I spread And little reverence made;

My burning limbs, and couch'd my head: Nor head, nor body, bow'd nor bent,

Fantastic thoughts return'd; But on the desk his arm he leant,

And, by their wild dominion led, And words like these he said,

My heart within me burn'd.* In a low voice, but never tone,

So sore was the delirious goad, So thrill'd through vein, and nerve, and bone : I took my steed, and forth I rode, ‘My mother sent me from afar,

And, as the moon shone bright and cold, Sir King, to warn thee not to war,-

Soon reach'd the camp upon the wold. Woe waits on thine array;

The southern entrance I pass'd through, If war thou wilt, of woman fair,?

And halted, and my bugle blew. Her witching wiles and wanton snare,

Methought an answer met my ear,James Stuart, doubly warn’d, beware:

Yet was the blast so low and drear," God keep thee as he may!'

So hollow, and so faintly blown,
The wondering Monarch seem'd to seek It might be echo of my own.

For answer, and found none;
And when he raised his head to speak,

XX.
The monitor was gone.

* Thus judging, for a little space The Marshal and myself had cast

I listen d, ere I left the place; To stop him as he outward pass'd;

But scarce could trust my eyes, But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast,

Nor yet can think they served me true, He vanish'd from our eyes,

When sudden in the ring I view, Like sunbeam on the billow cast,

In form distinct of shape and hue, That glances but, and dies."

A mounted champion rise. I MS.-"In a low voice-but every tone

* MS.-" In vain,” said he, "to rest I laid Thrill'a through the listener's vein and bone."

My burning limbs, and throbbing head& MS._"And if to war thou needs wilt fare

Fantastic thoughts return'd;

led,
Of wanton wiles and woman's
Of woman's wiles and wanton

And, by their wild dominion sway'd,

sped, & MS.--"But events, since I cross'd the Tweed,

My heart within me burn'd."
Have undermined my sceptic creed

5 MS.--" And yet it was so low and drear."

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snare.

*

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