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Come listen! bold in thy applause,
The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws;
And, as the ancient art could stain
Achievements on the storied pane,
Irregularly traced and plann'd,
But yet so glowing and so grand,-
So shall he strive, in changeful hue,
Field, feast, and combat, to renew,
And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee,
And all the pomp of chivalry.

Marmion.

CANTO FIFTH.

The Court.

I.

THE train has left the hills of Braid;
The barrier guard have open made
(So Lindesay bade) the palisade,

That closed the tented ground;
Their men the warders backward drew,
And carried pikes as they rode through,
Into its ample bound.'

Fast ran the Scottish warriors there,
Upon the Southern band to stare.
And envy with their wonder rose,
To see such well-appointed foes;

Such length of shafts, such mighty bows,2
So huge, that many simply thought,
But for a vaunt such weapons wrought;
And little deem'd their force to feel,
Through links of mail, and plates of steel,
When rattling upon Flodden vale,
The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail.3

II.

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view
Glance every line and squadron through;
And much he marvell'd one small land
Could marshal forth such various band:
For men-at-arms were here,
Heavily sheathed in mail and plate,
Like iron towers for strength and weight,
On Flemish steeds of bone and height,
With battle-axe and spear.

Young knights and squires, a lighter train,
Practised their chargers on the plain,*
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein,

1 MS.-"The barrier guard the Lion knew,
Advanced their pikes, and soon withdrew
The slender palisades and few
That closed the tented ground;

And Marmion with his train rode through,
Across its ample bound."

MS." So long their shafts, so large their bows."

Each warlike feat to show,

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,
And high curvett, that not in vain
The sword sway might descend amain
On foeman's casque below.
He saw the hardy burghers there
March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare,
For vizor they wore none,

Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight;
But burnished were their corslets bright,
Their brigantines, and gorgets light,

Like very silver shone.

Long pikes they had for standing fight,
Two-handed swords they wore,

And many wielded mace of weight,7
And bucklers bright they bore.

III.

On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd
In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest,

With iron quilted well;

Each at his back (a slender store)
His forty days' provision bore,

As feudal statutes tell.

His arms were halbert, axe, or spear,
A crossbow there, a hagbut here,

A dagger-knife, and brand.
Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer,
As loth to leave his cottage dear,
And march to foreign strand;

Or musing, who would guide his steer,
To till the fallow land.

Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye
Did aught of dastard terror lie;

More dreadful far his ire,

Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name,

In eager mood to battle came,

Their valour like light straw on flame,

A fierce but fading fire.

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Their gain, their glory, their delight,
To sleep the day, maraud the night,
O'er mountain, moss, and moor;
Joyful to fight they took their way,
Scarce caring who might win the day,

Their booty was secure.

These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by,
Look'd on at first with careless eye,

Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know
The form and force of English bow.
But when they saw the Lord array'd
In splendid arms and rich brocade,
Each Borderer to his kinsman said,-

"Hist, Ringan! seest thou there!

Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride?

O! could we but on Border side,

By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide,
Beset a prize so fair!

That fangless Lion, too, their guide,
Might chance to lose his glistering hide ;1
Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied,
Could make a kirtle rare."

V.

Next, Marmion mark'd the Celtic race,
Of different language, form, and face,
A various race of man;

Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd,
And wild and garish semblance made,
The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd,
To every varying clan;

Wild through their red or sable hair
Look'd out their eyes with savage stare,2
On Marmion as he pass'd;

Their legs above the knee were bare;
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,
And harden'd to the blast;

Of taller race, the chiefs they own
Were by the eagle's plumage known.
The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide
Their hairy buskins well supplied;
The graceful bonnet deck'd their head:
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid;
A broadsword of unwieldy length,
A dagger proved for edge and strength,
A studded targe they wore,
And quivers, bows, and shafts,-but, O!
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow,
To that which England bore.
The Isles-men carried at their backs
The ancient Danish battle-axe.

1 MS.-"Hist, Ringan! seest thou there!
Canst guess what homeward road they take-
By Eusedale glen, or Yetholm lake?
O! could we but by bush or brake
Beset a prize so fair!

The fangless Lion, too, his guide,
Might chance to lose his glittering hide."

They raised a wild and wondering cry,

As with his guide rode Marmion by.
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,
And, with their cries discordant mix'd,
Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt.

VI.

Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd,
And reach'd the City gate at last,
Where all around, a wakeful guard,
Arm❜d burghers kept their watch and ward.
Well had they cause of jealous fear,
When lay encamp'd, in field so near,
The Borderer and the Mountaineer.
As through the bustling streets they go,
All was alive with martial show:
At every turn, with dinning clang,
The armourer's anvil clash'd and rang;
Or toil'd the swarthy smith, to wheel
The bar that arms the charger's heel;
Or axe, or falchion, to the side

Of jarring grindstone was applied.
Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace,
Through street, and lane, and market-place,
Bore lance, or casque, or sword;
While burghers, with important face,
Described each new-come lord,
Discuss'd his lineage, told his name,
His following, and his warlike fame.
The Lion led to lodging meet,

Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street;
There must the Baron rest,

Till past the hour of vesper tide,
And then to Holy-Rood must ride,-

Such was the King's behest.
Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns
A banquet rich, and costly wines,
To Marmion and his train ;^
And when the appointed hour succeeds,
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,
And following Lindesay as he leads
The palace-halls they gain.

VII.

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily,

That night, with wassell, mirth, and glee:
King James within her princely bower,
Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power,
Summon'd to spend the parting hour;
For he had charged, that his array
Should southward march by break of day.
Well loved that splendid monarch aye

2 MS.-"Wild from their red and swarthy hair Look'd through their eyes with savage stare."

3 Following-Feudal retainers.-This word, by the way, has been, since the Author of Marmion used it, and thought it called for explanation, completely adopted into English, and especially into Parliamentary parlance.-ED.

4 See Appendix, Note 3 P.

The banquet and the song,
By day the tourney, and by night
The merry dance, traced fast and light,
The maskers quaint, the pageant bright,
The revel loud and long.

This feast outshone his banquets past,
It was his blithest-and his last.
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay,
Cast on the Court a dancing ray;
Here to the harp did minstrels sing;
There ladies touch'd a softer string;
With long-car'd cap, and motley vest,
The licensed fool retail'd his jest ;
His magic tricks the juggler plied;
At dice and draughts the gallants vied;
While some, in close recess apart,
Courted the ladies of their heart,
Nor courted them in vain;
For often, in the parting hour,
Victorious Love asserts his power
O'er coldness and disdain;
And flinty is her heart, can view
To battle march a lover true-
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu,
Nor own her share of pain.

VIII.

Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game,
The King to greet Lord Marmion came,

While, reverent, all made room.
An easy task it was, I trow,
King James's manly form to know.
Although, his courtesy to show,
He doff'd, to Marmion bending low,
His broider'd cap and plume.
For royal was his garb and mien,

His cloak, of crimson velvet piled,
Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild;
His vest of changeful satin sheen,
The dazzled eye beguiled;
His gorgeous collar hung adown,

Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown,'
The thistle brave, of old renown:
His trusty blade, Toledo right,?
Descended from a baldric bright;
White were his buskins, on the heel
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel;
His bonnet, all of crimson fair,
Was button'd with a ruby rare:
And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen
A prince of such a noble mien.

IX.

The Monarch's form was middle size; For feat of strength, or exercise,

1 MS." Bearing the badge of Scotland's crown." MS.-" His trusty blade, Toledo right, Descended from a baldric bright,

And dangled at his knee:

White were his buskins; from their heel

Shaped in proportion fair; And hazel was his eagle eye, And auburn of the darkest dye,

His short curl'd beard and hair. Light was his footstep in the dance, And firm his stirrup in the lists; And, oh! he had that merry glance, That seldom lady's heart resists. Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue;Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

I said he joy'd in banquet bower; But, 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, How suddenly his cheer would change,

His look o'ercast and lower, If, in a sudden turn, he felt The pressure of his iron belt,

That bound his breast in penance pain,

In memory of his father slain.
Even so 'twas strange how, evermore,
Soon as the passing pang was o'er
Forward he rush'd, with double glee,
Into the stream of revelry:

Thus, dim-seen object of affright
Startles the courser in his flight,
And half he halts, half springs aside;
But feels the quickening spur applied,
And, straining on the tighten'd rein,
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain.

X.

O'er James's heart, the courtiers say,
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway: 4
To Scotland's Court she came,

To be a hostage for her lord,
Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored,
And with the King to make accord,

Had sent his lovely dame.
Nor to that lady free alone
Did the gay King allegiance own;

For the fair Queen of France
Sent him a turquois ring and glove,
And charged him, as her knight and love,
For her to break a lance;

And strike three strokes with Scottish brand,
And march three miles on Southron land,
And bid the banners of his band

In English breezes dance.
And thus, for France's Queen he drest
His manly limbs in mailed vest;
And thus admitted English fair
His inmost counsels still to share;
And thus, for both, he madly p'ann'd
The ruin of himself and land!

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And yet, the sooth to tell,

Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen,' Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, From Margaret's eyes that fell,—

His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.

XI.

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile,
And weeps the weary day,
The war against her native soil,

Her Monarch's risk in battle broil:-
And in gay Holy-Rood, the while,
Dame Heron rises with a smile

Upon the harp to play.

Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er

The strings her fingers flew;

And as she touch'd and tuned them all, Ever her bosom's rise and fall

Was plainer given to view; For, all for heat, was laid aside Her wimple, and her hood untied.2 And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the King, And then around the silent ring; And laugh'd, and blush'd, and oft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay,

She could not, would not, durst not play!

At length, upon the harp, with glee,
Mingled with arch simplicity,

A soft, yet lively, air she rung,

While thus the wily lady sung:

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Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?"—

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ;-
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume;

And the bride-maidens whisper'd," "Twere betterby far,
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and

scaur;

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they

ran:

There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

XIII.

The Monarch o'er the siren hung
And beat the measure as she sung;
And, pressing closer, and more near,
He whisper'd praises in her ear.
In loud applause the courtiers vied;
And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside.

A soft, yet lively, air she rang,

While thus her voice attendant sang."

3 The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded on a ballad called "Katharine Janfarie," which may be found in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," vol. iii. ♦ See the novel of Redgauntlet, for a detailed picture of some of the extraordinary phenomena of the spring-tides in the Solway Frith.

The witching dame to Marmion threw
A glance, where seem'd to reign
The pride that claims applauses due,
And of her royal conquest too,

A real or feign'd disdain:
Familiar was the look, and told,
Marmion and she were friends of old.
The King observed their meeting eyes,
With something like displeased surprise;
For monarchs ill can rivals brook,
Even in a word, or smile, or look.
Straight took he forth the parchment broad,
Which Marmion's high commission show'd:
"Our Borders sack'd by many a raid,
Our peaceful liege-men robb'd," he said:
"On day of truce our Warden slain,
Stout Barton kill'd, his vassals ta'en-
Unworthy were we here to reign,
Should these for vengeance cry in vain ;
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,
Our herald has to Henry borne."

XIV.

He paused, and led where Douglas stood,
And with stern eye the pageant view'd:
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Who coronet of Angus bore,

And, when his blood and heart were high,'
Did the third James in camp defy,
And all his minions led to die

On Lauder's dreary flat:
Princes and favourites long grew tame,
And trembled at the homely name
Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat;
The same who left the dusky vale
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale,

Its dungeons, and its towers,
Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air,
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair,
To fix his princely bowers.
Though now, in age, he had laid down
His armour for the peaceful gown,
And for a staff his brand,
Yet often would flash forth the fire,
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire
And minion's pride withstand;
And even that day, at council board,
Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood,
Against the war had Angus stood,
And chafed his royal lord."

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IIuge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt,
Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower:
His locks and beard in silver grew;
His eyebrows kept their sable hue.
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood,
His bitter speech he thus pursued:
"Lord Marmion, since these letters say
That in the North you needs must stay,
While slightest hopes of peace remain,
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern,
To say-Return to Lindisfarne,

Until my herald come again.-
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold;"
Your host shall be the Douglas bold,-
A chief unlike his sires of old.
He wears their motto on his blade,
Their blazon o'er his towers display'd;
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose,
More than to face his country's foes.
And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen,
But e'en this morn to me was given
A prize, the first fruits of the war,
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar,

A bevy of the maids of Heaven.
Under your guard, these holy maids
Shall safe return to cloister shades,
And, while they at Tantallon stay,
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say."
And, with the slaughter'd favourite's name,
Across the Monarch's brow there came
A cloud of ire, remorse and shame.

XVI.

In answer nought could Angus speak;
His proud heart swell'd wellnigh to break:
He turn'd aside, and down his cheek

A burning tear there stole.
His hand the Monarch sudden took,

That sight his kind heart could not brook:
"Now, by the Bruce's soul,7
Angus, my hasty speech forgive!
For sure as doth his spirit live,
As he said of the Douglas old,

I well may say of you.-
That never king did subject hold,
In speech more free, in war more bold,
More tender and more true: 8
Forgive me, Douglas, once again.”—
And, while the King his hand did strain,
The old man's tears fell down like rain.
To seize the moment Marmion tried,
And whisper'd to the King aside:
"Oh! let such tears unwonted plead
For respite short from dubious deed!

6 MS." But yester morn was hither driven."

7 The next two lines are not in the original MS.
8 "O, Dowglas! Dowglas!
Tendir and trew."

The Houdate.

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