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And yet, the sooth to tell,
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, Nor England's fair, nor Frauce's Queen,' (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, “O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, From Margaret's eyes that fell,-
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ??-His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.
“ I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tideXI.
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. And weeps the weary day,
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, The war against her native soil,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” Her Monarch's risk in battle broil:And in gay Holy-Rood, the while,
The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, Dame Heron rises with a smile
He quaff”d off the wine, and he threw down the cup. Upon the harp to play.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. The strings her fingers flew;
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-And as she touch'd and tuned them all,
“ Now tread we a measure !” said young Lochinvar. Ever her bosom's rise and fall Was plainer given to view;
So stately his form, and so lovely her face, For, all for heat, was laid aside
That never a hall such a galliard did grace; Her wimple, and her hood untied.?
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And first she pitch'd her voice to sing,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and Then glanced her dark eye on the King,
plume; And then around the silent ring;
And the bride-maidens whisper'd,“ 'Twere better by far, And laugh’d, and blush'd, and oft did say
To have match'dour fair cousin with young Lochinvar.” Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play!
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, At length, upon the harp, with glee,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger Mingled with arcb simplicity,
stood near; A soft, yet lively, air she rung,
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, While thus the wily lady sung:
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
“ She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and XII.
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lady Veron's Song.
Lochinvar. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; There was mounting ʼmong Græmes of the Netherby And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, clan; He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone. Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar, There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar! But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
XIII. For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
The Monarch o'er the siren hung Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
And beat the measure as she sung;
And, pressing closer, and more near, So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
He whisper'd praises in her ear. Among bride’s-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and In loud applause the courtiers vied; all :
And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside.
1 MS." Nor France's Queen, nor England's fair,
Were worth one pearl-drop, passing rare,
From Margaret's eyes that fell."
& The MS. has oply
“Por, all for heat, was laid 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 Prith.
The witching dame to Marmion threw
Iluge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, A glance, where seem'd to reign
Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower : The pride that claims applauses due,
His locks and beard in silver grew; And of her royal conquest too,
His eyebrows kept their sable hue. A real or feign'd disdain:
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood, Familiar was the look, and told,
His bitter speech he thus pursued : Marmion and she were friends of old.
“ Lord Marmion, since these letters say The King observed their meeting eyes,
That in the North you needs must stay, With something like displeased surprise ;
While slightest hopes of peace remain, For monarchs ill can rivals brook,
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern, Even in a word, or smile, or look.
To say— Return to Lindisfarne, Straight took he forth the parchment broad,
C'ntil my herald come again.Which Marmion's high commission show'd:
Then rest you in Tantallon Kold;' « Our Borders sack'd by many a raid,
Your host shall be the Douglas bold, Our peaceful liege-men robb’d,” he said:
A chief unlike his sires of old. “ On day of truce our Warden slain,
He wears their motto on his blade, 5 Stout Barton kill'd, his vassals ta'en
Their blazon o'er his towers display'd; C'nworthy were we here to reign,
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, Should these for vengeance cry in vain ;
More than to face his country's foes. Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,
And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen, Our herald has to Henry borne."
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. And with stern eye the pageant view'd :
Under your guard, these holy maids I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Shall safe return to cloister shades, Who coronet of Angus bore,
And, while they at Tantallon stay, And, when his blood and heart were high,
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say." Did the third James in camp defy,
And, with the slaughter'd favourite's name, And all his minions led to die
Across the Monarch's brow there came
A cloud of ire, remorse and shame.
In answer nought could Angus speak; The same who left the dusky vale
His proud heart swell'd wellnigh to break: Of Hermitage in Liddisdale,
He turn'd aside, and down his cheek Its dungeons, and its towers,
A burning tear there stole. Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air,
His hand the Monarch sudden took, And Bothwell bank is blooning fair,
That sight his kind heart could not brook : To fix his princely bowers.
“ Now, by the Bruce's soul,7 Though now, in age, he had laid down
Angus, my hasty speech forgive! His armour for the peaceful gown,
For sure as doth his spirit live, And for a staff his brand,
As he said of the Douglas old, Yet often would flash forth the fire,
I well may say of you,That could, in youth, a monarch's ire
That never king did subject hold, And minion's pride withstand;
In speech more free, in war more bold, And even that day, at council board,
More tender and more true:3 Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood,
Forgive me, Douglas, once again.”Against the war had Angus stood,
And, while the king his hand did strain, And chafed his royal lord.3
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 Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt,
For respite short from dubious deed!
I MS.-“ And, when his blood and heart were high,
King James's minions led to die,
On Lauder's dreary flat." 2 Ben-the-Cat, see Appendix, Note 3 T. 3 See Appendix, Note 3 U.
6 MS.--" But yester mom was hither driven.“
8 “0, Dowglas! Dowglas !
* Ibid, Note 3 V. 6 See Appendix, Note 3 W.
A child will weep a bramble's smart,
Unwittingly, King James had given,
As guard to Whitby's shades, The man most dreaded under Heaven
By these defenceless maids : Yet what petition could avall, Or who would listen to the tale Of woman, prisoner, and nun, 'Mid bustle of a war begun? They deem'd it hopeless to avoid The convoy of their dangerous guide.
XVII. Displeased was James, that stranger view'd And tamper'd with his changing mood. “ Laugh those that can, weep those that may," Thus did the fiery Monarch say, “Southward I march by break of day; And if within Tantallon strong, The good Lord Marmion tarries long, Perchance our meeting next may fall At Tamworth, in his castle-hall.”— The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, And answer'd, grave, the royal vaunt: “ Much honour'd were my humble home, If in its halls King James should come; But Nottingham has archers good, And Yorkshire men are stern of mood; Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. On Derby Hills the paths are steep; In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep; And many a banner will be torn, And many a knight to earth be borne, And many a sheaf of arrows spent, Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent: Yet pause, brave Prince, while yet you may!"-The Monarch lightly turn'd away, And to his nobles loud did call,“Lords, to the dance,-a hall! a hall !'"9 Himself his cloak and sword flung by, And led Dame Heron gallantly; And minstrels, at the royal order, Rung out—“ Blue Bonnets o'er the Border.”
XIX. l'heir lodging, so the King assign'd, To Marmion’s, as their guardian, join'd; And thus it fell, that, passing nigh, The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye,
Who warn'd him by a scroll, She had a secret to reveal, That much concern'd the Church's weal,
And health of sinner's soul;
She named a place to meet,
Above the stately street;
And soon, by his command,
Again to English land. The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, Nor knew which saint she should implore; For, when she thought of Constance, sore
She fear'd Lord Marmion's mood. And judge what Clara must have felt! The sword, that hung in Marmion's belt, Had drunk De Wilton's blood.
MS.-" A maid to see her love depart."
You might have heard a pebble fall,
On Giles's steeple tall.
Were here wrapt deep in shade;
broke, Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke,
And on the casements play'd.
Save torches gliding far,
To bowne him for the war.-
XXI. « O, boly Palmer!" she began,“ For sure he must be sainted man, Whose blessed feet have trod the ground Where the Redeemer's tomb is found,
The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant.
For His dear Church's sake, my tale
Only one trace of earthly strain,
That for her lover's loss She cherishes a sorrow vain,
And murmurs at the crossAnd then her beritage ;-it goes
Along the banks of Tame; Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, In meadows rich the heifer lows, The falconer and huntsman knows
Its woodlands for the game.
Should do a deadly sin,
By my consent should win ;
By every step that thou hast trod
And by the Church of God!
By whom the deed was done,0! shame and horror to be said !
She was a perjured nun!
That Marmion's paramour (For such vile thing she was) should scheme
Her lover's nuptial hour;
Each proof that might the plot reveal,
Instructions with his hand and seal; And thus Saint Hilda deign'd,
Through sinner's perfidy impure,
Her house's glory to secure, And Clare's immortal weal.
XXII. “ His squire, who now De Wilton saw As recreant doom'd to suffer law,
Repentant, own'd in vain, That, while he had the scrolls in care, A stranger maiden, passing fair, Had drench'd him with a beverage rare;
His words no faith could gain, With Clare alone he credence won, Who, rather than wed Marmion, Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, To give our house her livings fair And die a vestal vot 'ress there. The impulse from the earth was given, But bent her to the paths of heaven. A purer heart, a lovelier maid, Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, No, not since Saxon Edelfled;
XXIV. “ 'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, How to my hand these papers fell;
1 “There are passages in which the flatness and tedious of this falling off. We select it from the Abbess's explana ness of the narrative is relieved by no sort of beauty nor ele- tion to De Wilton :- De Wilton and Lord Marmion wood, gance of diction, and which form an extraordinary contrast &c. (and twenty-two following lines).", JEFFREY, with the more animated and finished portions of the poem. 2 See Appendix, Note 3 X. We shall not afflict our readers with more than one specimen 3 Ibid, Note 3 Y
With me they must not stay.
But indistinct the pageant proud, Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true!
As fancy forms of midnight cloud, Who knows what outrage he might do,
When flings the moon upon her shroud While journeying by the way?
A wavering tinge of flame; 0, blessed Saint, if e'er again
It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, I venturous leave thy calm domain,
From midmost of the spectre crowd, To travel or by land or main,
This awful summons came:-*
« Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, For thee to stop they will not dare;
Whose names I now shall call, And O! with cautious speed,
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear; To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,
Subjects of him who sent me here, That he may show them to the King:
At his tribunal to appear, And, for thy well-earn'd meed,
I summon one and all: Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine
I cite you by each deadly sin, A weekly mass shall still be thine,
That e'er hath soild your hearts within : While priests can sing and read.-
I cite you by each brutal lust, What ail’st thou ?-Speak!”-For as he
That e'er defiled your earthly dust, took
By wrath, by pride, by fear, 5 The charge, a strong emotion shook
By each o'er-mastering passion's tone, His frame; and, ere reply,
By the dark grave, and dying groan! They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone,
When forty days are pass’d and gone, Like distant clarion feebly blown,
I cite you, at your Monarch's throne, That on the breeze did die;
To answer and appear.” And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear,
Then thunder'd forth a roll of names : “ Saint Withold, save us !-What is here!
The first was thine, unhappy James ! Look at yon City Cross ?
Then all thy nobles came; See on its battled tower appear
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear,
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,And blazon'd banners toss!”
Why should I tell their separate style;
Each chief of birth and fame,
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,
Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, Rose on a turret octagon;
Was cited there by name; (But now is razed that monument,
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, Whence royal edict rang,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye ; And voice of Scotland's law was sent
De Wilton, erst of Aberley, In glorious trumpet-clang.
The self-same thundering voice did say.-7 0! be his tomb as lead to lead,
But then another spoke: L'pon its dull destroyer's head!
Thy fatal summons I deny, A minstrel's malison” is said.3)
And thine infernal Lord defy, Then on its battlements they saw
Appealing me to Him on High, A vision, passing Nature's law,
Who burst the sinner's yoke." Strange, wild, and dimly seen;
At that dread accent, with a scream, Figures that seem'd to rise and die,
Parted the pageant like a dream, Gibber and sign, advance and fly,
The summoner was gone. While nought confirm’d could ear or eye
Prone on her face the Abbess fell, Discern of sound or mien.
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell; Yet darkly did it seem, as there
Her nuns came, startled by the yell, Heralds and Pursuivants prepare,
And found her there alone. With trumpet sound and blazon fair,
She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, A summons to proclaim;
What time, or how, the Palmer pass’d.
IMA-" Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone,
Rose on a turret hexagon:
3 See Appendix, Note 3 Z.
Before the mighty Monarch's throne,
I cite you to appear." 7 MS. -" In thundering tone the voice did say."
tj. e. Curse.