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Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood:

"Fair is the sight, and yet 'twere good,

That kings would think withal,

When peace and wealth their land has bless'd, "Tis better to sit still at rest,1

Than rise, perchance to fall."

XXX.

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd,
For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd.
When sated with the martial show
That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er it go,
And mark the distant city glow

With gloomy splendour red;

For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow,
That round her sable turrets flow,

The morning beams were shed,
And tinged them with a lustre proud,
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height,
Where the huge Castle holds its state,

And all the steep slope down,
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massy, close and high,
Mine own romantic town!?
But northward far, with purer blaze,
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,
And as each heathy top they kissed,
It gleam'd a purple amethyst.
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw;
Here Preston-Bay and Berwick-Law:
And, broad between them roll'd,
The gallant Frith the eye might note,
Whose islands on its bosom float,

Like emeralds chased in gold.
Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent;
As if to give his rapture vent,
The spur he to his charger lent,

And raised his bridle hand,
And, making demi-volte in air,

Cried, "Where's the coward that would not dare

To fight for such a land !”

The Lindesay smiled his joy to see;3
Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee.

XXXI.

Thus while they look'd, a flourish proud,
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud,
And fife, and kettle-drum,
And sackbut deep, and psaltery,
And war-pipe with discordant cry,

1 MS.-"'Tis better sitting still at rest,
Than rising but to fall;

And while these words they did exchange,
They reach'd the camp's extremest range.'

The Poet appears to have struck his pen through the two lines in italics, on conceiving the magnificent picture which replaces them in the text.

2 MS." Dun-Edin's towers and town."

a MS." The Lion smiled his joy to see."

And cymbal clattering to the sky,
Making wild music bold and high,

Did up the mountain come;

The whilst the bells, with distant chime,
Merrily toll'd the hour of prime,
And thus the Lindesay spoke:4
"Thus clamour still the war-notes when
The king to mass his way has ta'en,
Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne,5

Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.
To you they speak of martial fame;"
But me remind of peaceful game,

When blither was their cheer,
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare,
But strive which foremost might repair
To the downfall of the deer.

XXXII.

"Nor less," he said,-" when looking forth,

I view yon Empress of the North
Sit on her hilly throne;
Her palace's imperial bowers,
Her castle, proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls and holy towers-7
Nor less," he said, "I moan,
To think what woe mischance may bring,
And how these merry bells may ring
The death-dirge of our gallant king;
Or with the larum call

The burghers forth to watch and ward,
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard
Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall.-

But not for my presaging thought,
Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought!
Lord Marmion, I say nay:

God is the guider of the field,

He breaks the champion's spear and shield,-
But thou thyself shalt say,

When joins yon host in deadly stowre,
That England's dames must weep in bower,
Her monks the death-mass sing;9
For never saw'st thou such a power

Led on by such a King.'

And now, down winding to the plain,
The barriers of the camp they gain,

And there they made a stay.-
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling
His hand o'er every Border string,
And fit his harp the pomp to sing,
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King,
In the succeeding lay.

4 MS." And thus the Lion spoke."

5 MS.-" Or to our Lady's of Sienne."

6 MS.-"To you they speak of martial fame, To me of mood more mild and tameBlither would be their cheer."

7 MS.-"Her stately fanes and holy towers."

8 MS.-"Dream of a conquest cheaply bought."

9 MS." Their monks dead masses sing."

Marmion.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH.

TO

GEORGE ELLIS, Esq.

Edinburgh.

WHEN dark December glooms the day,
And takes our autumn joys away;
When short and scant the sunbeam throws,

Upon the weary waste of snows,

A cold and profitless regard,
Like patron on a needy bard;
When silvan occupation's done,
And o'er the chimney rests the gun,
And hang, in idle trophy, near,
The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear;
When wiry terrier, rough and grim,
And greyhound, with his length of limb,
And pointer, now employ'd no more,
Cumber our parlour's narrow floor;
When in his stall the impatient steed
Is long condemn'd to rest and feed;
When from our snow-encirled home,
Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam,
Since path is none, save that to bring
The needful water from the spring;
When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er,
Beguiles the dreary hour no more,
And darkling politician, cross'd,
Inveighs against the lingering post,
And answering housewife sore complains
Of carriers' snow-impeded wains;
When such the country cheer, I come,
Well pleased, to seek our city home;
For converse, and for books, to change
The Forest's melancholy range,
And welcome, with renew'd delight,
The busy day and social night.

Not here need my desponding rhyme Lament the ravages of time, As erst by Newark's riven towers, And Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers.

1 "These Introductory Epistles, though excellent in themselves, are in fact only interruptions to the fable, and, accordingly, nine readers out of ten have perused them separately, either before, or after the poem. In short, the personal appearance of the Minstrel, who, though the Last, is the most charming of all minstrels, is by no means compensated by the idea of an author shorn of his picturesque beard, and writing letters to his intimate friends."-GEORGE ELLIS.

2 This accomplished gentleman, the well-known coadjutor of Mr. Canning and Mr. Frere in the "Antijacobin," and editor of "Specimens of Ancient English Romances," &c., died 10th April 1815, aged 70 years; being succeeded in his estates by his brother, Charles Ellis, Esq., created, in 1827, Lord Seaford.-ED.

True, Caledonia's Queen is changed,
Since on her dusky summit ranged,
Within its steepy limits pent,

By bulwark, line, and battlement,
And flanking towers, and laky flood,
Guarded and garrison'd she stood,
Denying entrance or resort,
Save at each tall embattled port;
Above whose arch, suspended, hung
Portcullis spiked with iron prong.
That long is gone,-but not so long,
Since, early closed, and opening late,
Jealous revolved the studded gate,
Whose task, from eve to morning tide,
A wicket churlishly supplied.
Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow,
Dun-Edin! O, how alter'd now,
When safe amid thy mountain court
Thou sit st, like Empress at her sport,
And liberal, unconfined, and free,
Flinging thy white arms to the sea,3
For thy dark cloud, with umber'd lower,
That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower,
Thou gleam'st against the western ray
Ten thousand lines of brighter day.

Not she, the Championess of old, In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd, She for the charmed spear renown'd, Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,-Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, What time she was Malbecco's guest, She gave to flow her maiden vest; When from the corslet's grasp relieved, Free to the sight her bosom heaved; Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, Erst hidden by the aventayle; And down her shoulders graceful roll'd Her locks profuse, of paly gold. They who whilom, in midnight fight, Had marvell'd at her matchless might, No less her maiden charms approved, But looking liked, and liking loved.? The sight could jealous pangs beguile, And charm Malbecco's cares a while; And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, Forgot his Columbella's claims,

3 See Introduction to canto ii.

4 See Appendix, Note 3 H.

5 Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning, from a chorus in "Caractacus:"—

"Britain heard the descant bold,

She flung her white arms o'er the sea,
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold
The freight of harmony."

6 See "The Fairy Queen," book iii. canto ix.

7" For every one her liked, and every one her loved."

SPENSER, as above.

And passion, erst unknown, could gain
The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane;
Nor durst light Paridel advance,
Bold as he was, a looser glance.

She charm'd, at once, and tamed the heart,
Incomparable Britomarte!

So thou, fair City! disarray'd
Of battled wall, and rampart's aid,
As stately seem'st, but lovelier far
Than in that panoply of war.

Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne
Strength and security are flown;
Still, as of yore, Queen of the North!
Still canst thou send thy children forth.
Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call
Thy burghers rose to man thy wall,
Than now, in danger, shall be thine,
Thy dauntless voluntary line;
For fosse and turret proud to stand,
Their breasts the bulwarks of the land.
Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil,
Full red would stain their native soil,
Ere from thy mural crown there fell
The slightest knosp, or pinnacle.
And if it come,-as come it may,
Dun-Edin! that eventful day,--
Renown'd for hospitable deed,

That virtue much with Heaven may plead,
In patriarchal times whose care
Descending angels deign'd to share;
That claim may wrestle blessings down
On those who fight for The Good Town,
Destined in every age to be
Refuge of injured royalty;

Since first, when conquering York arose,
To Henry meek she gave repose,'
Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe,
Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw."

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Who loves not more the night of June
Than dull December's gloomy noon?
The moonlight than the fog of frost?
And can we say, which cheats the most!

But who shall teach my harp to gain A sound of the romantic strain, Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere Could win the royal Henry's ear,* Famed Beauclerc call'd, for that he loved The minstrel, and his lay approved? Who shall these lingering notes redeem, Decaying on Oblivion's stream; Such notes as from the Breton tongue Marie translated, Blondel sung?O! born, Time's ravage to repair, And make the dying Muse thy care; Who, when his scythe her hoary foe Was poising for the final blow, The weapon from his hand could wring, And break his glass, and shear his wing, And bid, reviving in his strain,

The gentle poet live again;

Thou, who canst give to lightest lay
An unpedantic moral gay,

Nor less the dullest theme bid flit
On wings of unexpected wit;
In letters as in life approved,
Example honour'd, and beloved,—
Dear ELLIS! to the bard impart
A lesson of thy magic art,

To win at once the head and heart,-
At once to charm, instruct and mend,
My guide, my pattern, and my friend!"

Such minstrel lesson to bestow

Be long thy pleasing task,-but, O!
No more by thy example teach,
-What few can practise, all can preach,-
With even patience to endure
Lingering disease, and painful cure,
And boast affliction's pangs subdued
By mild and manly fortitude.
Enough, the lesson has been given:
Forbid the repetition, Heaven!

Come listen, then! for thou hast known, And loved the Minstrel's varying tone, Who, like his Border sires of old, Waked a wild measure rude and bold, Till Windsor's oaks, and Ascot plain, With wonder heard the northern strain.

3 MS.-"Than gaze out on the foggy fen." See Appendix, Note 3 K.

5 "Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, Oh master of the poet and the song!"

Pope to Bolingbroke.

6 At Sunning-hill, Mr. Ellis's seat, near Windsor, part of the first two cantos of Marmion were written.

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