A child will weep a bramble's smart,
A maid to see her sparrow part,'
A stripling for a woman's heart:
But woe awaits a country, when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
Then, oh! what omen, dark and high,
When Douglas wets his manly eye!"

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,

Leave we these revels now, to tell
What to Saint Hilda's maids befell,
Whose galley, as they sail'd again
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en.
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide,
Till James should of their fate decide;
And soon, by his command,
Were gently summon'd to prepare
To journey under Marmion's care,
As escort honour'd, safe, and fair,

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.

1 MS.-"A maid to see her love depart."

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.

XIX.

Their 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;

And, with deep charge of secrecy,

She named a place to meet,
Within an open balcony,

That hung from dizzy pitch, and high,
Above the stately street;

To which, as common to each home,
At night they might in secret come.

XX.

At night, in secret, there they came,
The Palmer and the holy Dame.
The moon among the clouds rose high,
And all the city hum was by.
Upon the street, where late before
Did din of war and warriors roar,
You might have heard a pebble fall,

A beetle hum, a cricket sing,
An owlet flap his boding wing

On Giles's steeple tall.

The antique buildings, climbing high, Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, Were here wrapt deep in shade; There on their brows the moon-beam

broke,

Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke,

And on the casements play'd.
And other light was none to see,

Save torches gliding far,
Before some chieftain of degree,
Who left the royal revelry

To bowne him for the war.

A soleinn scene the Abbess chose;
A solemn hour, her secret to disclose.

XXI.

"O, holy 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
Attend, nor deem of light avail,
Though I must speak of worldly love,-
How vain to those who wed above!-
De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd1
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood;
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame,
To say of that same blood I came ;)
And once, when jealous rage was high,
Lord Marmion said despiteously,
Wilton was traitor in his heart,

And had made league with Martin Swart,
When he came here on Simnel's part;
And only cowardice did restrain
His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain,-
And down he threw his glove: - the
thing

Was tried, as wont, before the King;
Where frankly did De Wilton own,
That Swart in Gueldres he had known;
And that between them then there went
Some scroll of courteous compliment.
For this he to his castle sent;
But when his messenger return'd,
Judge how de Wilton's fury burn'd!

For in his packet there was laid
Letters that claim'd disloyal aid,
And proved King Henry's cause betray'd.
His fame, thus blighted, in the field

He strove to clear, by spear and shield ;---
To clear his fame in vain he strove,
For wondrous are His ways above!
Perchance some form was unobserved;
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved;3
Else how could guiltless champion quail,
Or how the blessed ordeal fail?

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;

1 "There are passages in which the flatness and tedious ness of the narrative is relieved by no sort of beauty nor elegance of diction, and which form an extraordinary contrast with the more animated and finished portions of the poem. We shall not afflict our readers with more than one specimen

Only one trace of earthly strain,

That for her lover's loss She cherishes a sorrow vain,

And murmurs at the crossAnd then her heritage ;-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. Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, And I, her humble vot'ress here, Should do a deadly sin, Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes, If this false Marmion such a prize

By my consent should win ;

Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn
That Clare shall from our house be torn ;
And grievous cause have I to fear,
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear.

XXIII.
"Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd
To evil power, I claim thine aid,
By every step that thou hast trod
To holy shrine and grotto dim,
By every martyr's tortured limb,
By angel, saint, and seraphim,

And by the Church of God!
For mark:-When Wilton was betray'd,
And with his squire forged letters laid,
She was, alas! that sinful maid,

By whom the deed was done,—
O! shame and horror to be said!-

She was a perjured nun!

No clerk in all the land, like her,
Traced quaint and varying character.
Perchance you may a marvel deem,

That Marmion's paramour

(For such vile thing she was) should scheme Her lover's nuptial hour;

But o'er him thus she hoped to gain,
As privy to his honour's stain,

Illimitable power:

For this she secretly retain'd

Each proof that might the plot reveal, Instructions with his hand and seal;

And thus Saint Hilda deign'd,

Through sinner's perfidy tmpure,
Her house's glory to secure,

And Clare's immortal weal.

XXIV.

""Twere long, and needless, here to tell, How to my hand these papers fell;

of this falling off. We select it from the Abbess's explana tion to De Wilton:- De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd, &c. (and twenty-two following lines)."-JEFFREY, 2 See Appendix, Note 3 X.

3 Ibid, Note 3 Y

With me they must not stay.
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true!
Who knows what outrage he might do,
While journeying by the way?—

O, blessed Saint, if e'er again
I venturous leave thy calm domain,
To travel or by land or main,

Deep penance may I pay !—

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer:
I give this packet to thy care,
For thee to stop they will not dare;
And O! with cautious speed,
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,
That he may show them to the King:
And, for thy well-earn'd meed,
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine
A weekly mass shall still be thine,
While priests can sing and read.-
What ail'st thou ?-Speak!"-For as he
took

The charge, a strong emotion shook

His frame; and, ere reply,

They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone,
Like distant clarion feebly blown,
That on the breeze did die;

And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear,
"Saint Withold, save us!-What is here!
Look at yon City Cross?

See on its battled tower appear Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, And blazon'd banners toss!"

XXV.

Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone,1
Rose on a turret octagon;
(But now is razed that monument,
Whence royal edict rang,

And voice of Scotland's law was sent

In glorious trumpet-clang.

O! be his tomb as lead to lead,
Upon its dull destroyer's head!—
A minstrel's malison2 is said.3)—
Then on its battlements they saw
A vision, passing Nature's law,

Strange, wild, and dimly seen;
Figures that seem'd to rise and die,
Gibber and sign, advance and fly,
While nought confirm'd could ear or eye
Discern of sound or mien.
Yet darkly did it seem, as there
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare,
With trumpet sound and blazon fair,
A summons to proclaim;

But indistinct the pageant proud,
As fancy forms of midnight cloud,
When flings the moon upon her shroud
A wavering tinge of flame;

It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,
From midmost of the spectre crowd,
This awful summons came:-*

XXVI.

"Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,
Whose names I now shall call,
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear;
Subjects of him who sent me here,
At his tribunal to appear,

I summon one and all:

I cite you by each deadly sin,

That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within:

I cite you by each brutal lust,
That e'er defiled your earthly dust,-
By wrath, by pride, by fear,"
By each o'er-mastering passion's tone,
By the dark grave, and dying groan!
When forty days are pass'd and gone,
I cite you, at your Monarch's throne,
To answer and appear."
Then thunder'd forth a roll of names:
The first was thine, unhappy James!

6

Then all thy nobles came; Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,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, Was cited there by name; And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye; De Wilton, erst of Aberley,

The self-same thundering voice did say.—7 But then another spoke:

66 Thy fatal summons I deny,
And thine infernal Lord defy,
Appealing me to Him on High,

Who burst the sinner's yoke."
At that dread accent, with a scream,
Parted the pageant like a dream,

The summoner was gone.
Prone on her face the Abbess fell,
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell;
Her nuns came, startled by the yell,

And found her there alone.

She mark'd not, at the scene aghast,
What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd.

3 See Appendix, Note 3 Z.

4 See Appendix, Note 4 A.

5 MS.-" By wrath, by fraud, by fear."

6 MS." Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone, Before the mighty Monarch's throne,

I cite you to appear."

7 MS." In thundering tone the voice did say."

XXVII.

Shift we the scene.-The camp doth move,
Dun-Edin's streets are empty now,
Save when, for weal of those they love,

To pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
The tottering child, the anxious fair,
The grey-hair'd sire, with pious care,
To chapels and to shrines repair-—
Where is the Palmer now? and where
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare?-
Bold Douglas! to Tantallon fair

They journey in thy charge:
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand,
The Palmer still was with the band;
Angus, like Lindesay, did command,
That none should roam at large.
But in that Palmer's alter'd mien
A wondrous change might now be seen,
Freely he spoke of war,

Of marvels wrought by single hand,
When lifted for a native land;
And still look'd high, as if he plann'd
Some desperate deed afar.

His courser would he feed and stroke,
And, tucking up his sable frocke,
Would first his mettle bold provoke,
Then soothe or quell his pride.
Old Hubert said, that never one
He saw, except Lord Marmion,
A steed so fairly ride.

XXVIII.

Some half-hour's march behind, there came,
By Eustace govern'd fair,

A troop escorting Hilda's Dame,

With all her nuns, and Clare.

No audience had Lord Marmion sought;
Ever he fear'd to aggravate
Clara de Clare's suspicious hate;
And safer 'twas, he thought,

To wait till, from the nuns removed,
The influence of kinsmen loved,
And suit by Henry's self approved,

Her slow consent had wrought.

His was no flickering flame, that dies Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs, And lighted oft at lady's eyes; He long'd to stretch his wide command O'er luckless Clara's ample land: Besides, when Wilton with him vied, Although the pang of humbled pride The place of jealousy supplied, Yet conquest by that meanness won He almost loath'd to think upon, Led him, at times, to hate the cause, Which made him burst through honour's laws.

If e'er he lov'd, 'twas her alone, Who died within that vault of stone.

XXIX.

And now, when close at hand they saw North Berwick's town, and lofty Law,' Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, Before a venerable pile,

Whose turrets view'd, afar, The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, The ocean's peace or war. At tolling of a bell, forth came The convent's venerable Dame, And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest With her, a loved and honour'd guest, Till Douglas should a bark prepare To waft her back to Whitby fair. Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, And thank'd the Scottish Prioress; And tedious were to tell, I ween, The courteous speech that pass'd between O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave; But when fair Clara did intend, Like them, from horseback to descend, Fitz-Eustace said," I grieve, Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, Such gentle company to part ;—

Think not discourtesy,

But lords' commands must be obey'd;
And Marmion and the Douglas said,

That you must wend with me.
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad,
Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd,
Commanding, that, beneath his care,
Without delay, you shall repair

To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare."

1 MS.-North Berwick's town, and conic Law."

2 The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns,

near North Berwick, of which there are still some remains

It was founded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216.

3 MS." The lofty Bass, the Lamb's green isle."

Her faithful guardian he will be,
Nor sue for slightest courtesy

That e'en to stranger falls,

Till he shall place her, safe and free,

Within her kinsman's halls."

He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace;
His faith was painted on his face,

And Clare's worst fear relieved.
The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed,
Entreated, threaten'd, grieved;
To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd,
Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd,
And call'd the Prioress to aid,

To curse with candle, bell, and book.
Her head the grave Cistertian shook:
"The Douglas, and the King," she said,
"In their commands will be obey'd;
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall
The maiden in Tantallon hall."

XXXI.

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain,
Assumed her wonted state again,-
For much of state she had,-
Composed her veil, and raised her head,
And-" Bid," in solemn voice she said,
"Thy master, bold and bad,
The records of his house turn o'er,

And, when he shall there written see,
That one of his own ancestry
Drove the Monks forth of Coventry,'
Bid him his fate explore!

Prancing in pride of earthly trust,
His charger hurl'd him to the dust,
And, by a base plebeian thrust,
He died his band before.

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me;
He is a Chief of high degree,

And I a poor recluse:

Yet oft, in holy writ, we see
Even such weak minister as me
May the oppressor bruise:

For thus, inspired, did Judith slay
The mighty in his sin,
And Jael thus, and Deborah"-

Here hasty Blount broke in:
"Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band:
St. Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day, with bonnet in thy hand,
To hear the Lady preach?

By this good light! if thus we stay,
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,

Will sharper sermon teach.

Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce."

XXXII.

"Submit we then to force," said Clare,
"But let this barbarous lord despair

His purposed aim to win;
Let him take living, land, and life;
But to be Marmion's wedded wife

In me were deadly sin:
And if it be the King's decree,
That I must find no sanctuary,
In that inviolable dome,

Where even a homicide might come,

And safely rest his head,

Though at its open portals stood,
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood,

The kinsmen of the dead;
Yet one asylum is my own

Against the dreaded hour;
A low, a silent, and a lone,

Where kings have little power.
One victim is before me there.-
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer
Remember your unhappy Clare!"
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows
Kind blessings many a one:
Weeping and wailing loud arose,
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes
Of every simple nun.

His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,

And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.
Then took the squire her rein,

And gently led away her steed,
And, by each courteous word and deed,
To cheer her strove in vain.

XXXIII.

But scant three miles the band had rode,
When o'er a height they pass'd,
And, sudden, close before them show'd
His towers, Tantallon vast;3
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far,
And held impregnable in war.

On a projecting rock they rose,

And round three sides the ocean flows,
The fourth did battled walls enclose,
And double mound and fosse.1

into Dunbar and Inchkeith, in order the better to bridle the lords and barons, who inclined to the reformed faith, and to secure by citadels the sea-coast of the Frith of Forth. For this purpose, the Regent, to use the phrase of the time, 'dealed with the (then) Earl of Angus for his consent to the proposed measure. He occupied himself, while she was speaking, in feeding a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only replied by addressing the bird, but leaving the Queen to make the application, The devil is in this greedy gled-she