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By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would befall.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed;
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt in his paces, cool and bold.
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say,
The Earl did much the Master pray
To use him on the battle-day;
But he preferr'd”—“ Nay, Henry, cease !
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace.-
Eustace, thou bear'st a brain—I pray,
What did Blount see at break of day!"-

Our time a fair exchange has made ;
Hard by, in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells,
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood,
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.)
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there
Give Marrion entertainment fair,
And lodging for his train and Clare.
Next morn the Baron climb'd the tower,
To view afar the Scottish power,

Encamp'd on Flodden edge:
The white pavilions made a show,
Like remnants of the winter snow,

Along the dusky ridge.
Long Marmion look'd :-at length his eye
Unusual movement might descry

Amid the shifting lines :
The Scottish host drawn out appears,
For, flashing on the hedge of spears

The eastern sunbeam shines.
Their front now deepening, now extending;
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending,
Now drawing back, and now descending,
The skilful Marmion well could know,
They watch'd the motions of some foe,
Who traversed on the plain below.

XVII. “ In brief, my lord, we both descried (For then I stood by Henry's side) The Palmer mount, and outwards ride,

Upon the Earl's own favourite steed:
All sheathed he was in armour bright,
And much resembled that same knight,
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight:

Lord Angus wish'd him speed.” -
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke,
A sudden light on Marmion broke ;-
“ Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!"
He mutter'd; “ 'Twas nor fay nor ghost
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.-

O dotage blind and gross !
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust,
My path no more to cross.-
llow stand we now he told his tale
To Douglas; and with some avail;

'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow.-Will Surrey dare to entertain, 'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain?

Small risk of that, 1 trow.
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun;
Must separate Constance from the Nun-
O, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!
A Palmer too !-no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye:
I might have known there was but one,
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion.”

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge

The Scots beheld the English host
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening

post, And heedful watch'd them as they cross'd The Till by Twisel Bridge.

High sight it is, and haughty, while
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the cavern'd cliff they fall,

Beneath the castle's airy wall.
By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree,

Troop after troop are disappearing;

Troop after troop their banners rearing,
Upon the eastern bank you see.
Still pouring down the rocky den,

Where flows the sullen Till,
And rising from the dim-wood glen,
Standards on standards, men on men,

In slow succession still,
And, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch,
And pressing on, in ceaseless march,

To gain the opposing hill.
That morn, to many a trumpet clang,
Twisel! thy rock’s deep echo rang;
And many a chief of birth and rank,
Saint Helen! at thy fountain drank.
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,

XVIII. Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed His troop, and reach'd, at eve, the Tweed, Where Lennel's convento closed their march; (There now is left but one frail arch,

Yet mourn thou not its cells;

1 His eldest son, the Master of Angus. * See Appendix, Note 4 0.

3" From this period to the conclusion of the poem, Mr. Scott's genius, so long overclouded, bursts forth in full lustre,

and even transcends itself. It is impossible to do him justice by making extracts, when all is equally attractive."— Monthly Revicu.

* See Appendix, Note 4 P.

Had then from many an axe its doom, To give the marching columns room.

The Lady Clare behind our lines Shall tarry, while the battle joins."

And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile ?
What checks the fiery soul of James ?
Why sits that champion of the dames

Inactive on his steed,
And sees, between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed's southern strand,

His host Lord Surrey lead ? What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand ? -0, Douglas, for thy leading wand !

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed ! O for one hour of Wallace wight, Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight, And cry—“Saint Andrew and our right !" Another sight had seen that morn, From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, And Flodden had been Bannockbourne ! The precious hour has pass'd in vain, And England's host has gain'd the plain; Wheeling their marcb, and circling still, Around the base of Flodden hill.

Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ;
Får less would listen to his prayer,
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And mutter'd as the flood they view,
“ The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw;
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,

So Clare shall bide with me.”
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep, *

He ventured desperately:
And not a moment will he bide,
Till squire, or groom, before him ride;
Headmost of all he stems the tide,

And stems it gallantly.
Eustace held Clare upon her horse,

Old Hubert led her rein,
Stoutly they braved the current's course,
And, though far downward driven per force,

The southern bank they gain;
Behind them straggling, came to shore,

As best they might, the train :
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,

A caution not in vain;
Deep need that day that every string,
By wet unharm’d, should sharply ring.
A moment then Lord Marmion staid,
And breathed his steed, his men array'd,

Then forward moved his band,
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won,
He halted by a Cross of Stone,
That, on a hillock standing lone,

Did all the field command.

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye,'
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,
“ Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!
And see ascending squadrons come

Between Tweed's river and the bill,
Foot, horse, and cannon :-hap what hap,
My basnet to a prentice cap,

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till!
Yet more! yet more !-how far array'd
They file from out the hawthorn shade,

And sweep so gallant by ! 2
With all their banners bravely spread,

And all their armour flashing high,
Saint George might waken from the dead,

To see fair England's standards fly.”— “ Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount, “thou’dst best, And listen to our lord's behest.”_3 With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,“ This instant be our band array'd; The river must be quickly cross'd, That we may join Lord Surrey's host. If fight King James,--as well I trust, That fight he will, and fight he must,

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1 MS.—" Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye." 2 MS." And all go sweeping by."

3" The speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal too unpolished for a noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On two occasions, to specify no more, he addresses his brother squire in these cacocphoneus lines,

'St. Anton fire Uhce! wilt thou stand

All day with bonnet in thy hand;' And,

Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, thou'dst besi,

And listen to our lord's behest.' Neither can we be brought to admire the simple dignity of Sir Hugh the Heron, who thus encourageth his nephew,

By my fay, Well hast thou spoke-say forth thy say.'"-JEFFREY. 4 MS. -"Where to the Tweed Leat's tributes creep." 5 See Appendix, Note 4 Q. 6 MS.-" Their lines were form'd, stretch'd east and west."

• You well may view the scene.

Sudly to Blount did Eustace say, Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:

“ Unworthy office here to stay! 0! think of Marmion in thy prayer!

No hope of gilded spurs to-day.-Thou wilt not !- well, no less my care

But see! look up-on Flodden bent Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.

The Scottish foe has fired his tent." You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,

And sudden, as he spoke, With ten pick'd archers of my train;

From the sharp ridges of the hill, With England if the day go hard,

All downward to the banks of Till, To Berwick speed amain.-

Was wreathed in sable smoke. But if we conquer, cruel maid,

Volumed and fast, and rolling far, My spoils shall at your feet be laid,

The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, When here we meet again.”

As down the hill they broke; He waited not for answer there,

Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, And would not mark the maid's despair,

Announced their march; their tread alone, Nor heed the discontented look

At times one warning trumpet blown, From either squire; but spurr'd amain,

At times a stitled hum, And, dashing through the battle plain,

Told England, from his mountain-throne His way to Surrey took.

King James did rushing come.

Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,

Until at weapon-point they close._6
The good Lord Marmion, by my life ! They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,
Welcome to danger's hour!-

With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust; Short greeting serves in time of strife:--

And such a yell was there, Thus have I ranged my power:

Of sudden and portentous birth, Myself will rule this central host,

As if men fought upon the earth, Stout Stanley fronts their right,

And fiends in upper air ;& My sous command the vaward post,

O life and death were in the shout, With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight;'

Recoil and rally, charge and rout, Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,

And triumph and despair. Shall be in rear-ward of the fight,

Long look'd the anxious squires ; their eye
And succour those that need it most,

Could in the darkness nought descry.
Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,
Would gladly to the vanguard go;

Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there,

At length the freshening western blast With thee their charge will blithely share;

Aside the shroud of battle cast; There fight thine own retainers too,

And, first, the ridge of mingled spears? Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”_3

Above the brightening cloud appears ; “ Thanks, noble Surrey !” Marmion said,

And in the smoke the pennons flew, Nor farther greeting there he paid;

As in the storm the white sea-mew. But, parting like a thunderbolt,

Then mark'd they, dashing broad and Bar, First in the vanguard made a halt,

The broken billows of the war, Where such a shout there rose

And plumed crests of chieftains brave, Of “ Marmion! Marmion!” that the cry,

Floating like foam upon the wave; Up Flodden mountain shrilling high,

But nought distinct they see: Startled the Scottish foes.

Wide raged the battle on the plain;

Spears shook, and falchions flash'd amain;

Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ;
Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still

Crests rose, and stoop d, and rose again, With Lady Clare upon the hill !

Wild and disorderly. On which, (for far the day was spent,)

Amid the scene of tumult, high The western sunbeams now were bent.

They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly: The cry they heard, its meaning knew,

And stainless Tunstall's banner white, Could plain their distant comrades view:

And Edmund Howard's lion bright,

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1 MS.-"Nor mark'd the lady's deep despair,

Nor heeded discontented look." See Appendix, Notu 4 R. 8 MS.—" Beneath thy seneschal, Fitz-Hugh."

4 “Of all the poetical battles which have been fought. from the days of Homer to those of Mr. Souther, there is none, in

our opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation,-
for breadth of drawing and magnificence of effect, with this
of Mr. Scott's."-Jeffrey.

5 This couplet is not in the MS.
6 The next three lines are not in the MS.
7 MS. --" And first the broken ridge of spears."

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Still bear them bravely in the fight:

Although against them come, Of gallant Gordons many a one, And many a stubborn Badenoch-man,' And many a rugged Border clan,

With Huntly, and with Home.

And Eustace, maddening at the sight,

A look and sign to Clara cast

To mark he would return in haste, Then plunged into the fight.

Ask me not what the maiden feels,

Left in that dreadful hour alone :
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels;

Perchance a courage, not her own,

Braces her mind to desperate tone.-
The scatter'd van of England wheels ;-;

She only said, as loud in air
The tumult roar'd, “ Is Wilton there?”-
They fly, or, madden'd by despair,

Fight but to die,—“ Is Wilton there?”
With that, straight up the bill there rode
Two horsemen drench’d with gore,
And in their arms, a helpless load,

A wounded knight they bore.
His hand still strain'd the broken brand;
His arms were smear'd with blood and sand :
Dragg’d from among the horses' feet,
With dinted shield, and helmet beat,
The falcon-crest and plumage gone,
Can that be haughty Marmion! .
Young Blount his armour did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghastly face,

Said—“ By Saint George, he's gone! That spear-wound has our master sped, And see the deep cut on his head!

Good-night to Marmion.”— “ Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease: He opes his eyes,” said Eustace; “ peace!"

Far on the left, unseen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle;
Though there the western mountaineer?
Rush'd with bare bosom on the spear,
And flung the feeble targe aside,
And with both hands the broadsword plied.'
'Twas vain :- But Fortune, on the right,
With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight.
Then fell that spotless banner white, 3

The Howard's lion fell;
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon few
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew

Around the battle-yell.
The Border slogan rent the sky!
A Home! a Gordon! was the cry:

Loud were the clanging blows;
Advanced,-forced back,—now low, now high,

The pennon sunk and rose;
As bends the bark's mast in the gale,
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail,

It waver'd 'mid the foes.
No longer Blount the view could bear:
“ By Heaven, and all its saints! I swear

I will not see it lost!
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Claret
May bid your beads, and patter prayer,--

I gallop to the host.”
And to the fray he rode amain,
Follow'd by all the archer train.
The fiery youth, with desperate charge,
Made, for a space, an opening large,-

The rescued banner rose,
But darkly closed the war around,
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground,

It sunk among the foes.
Then Eustace mounted too :-yet staid
As loath to leave the helpless maid,

When, fast as shaft can fly,
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,

Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by;



XXIX. When, doff'd his casque, he felt free air, Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare :“ Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where? Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! Redeem my pennon,-charge again! Cry—Marmion to the rescue !?- Vain! Last of my race, on battle-plain That shout shall ne'er be heard again! Yet my last thought is England's fly,

To Dacre bear my signet-ring:

Tell him his squadrons up to bring.
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie;

Tunstall lies dead upon the field,
His life-blood stains the spotless shield:


I In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the correction of the Author's interleaved copy of the edition of

* MS." Though there the dauntless mountaineer." & MS._"Fell stainless Tunstall's banner white,

Sir Edmund's lion fell." • M8.-" Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare

May for its safety join in praver." 8 28.-"Like pine up-rooted from the ground."

6 MS." And cried he would return in haste." 7 MS.-" Repulsed, the band

}of England wheels." The scatter'd wing & MS.—“ Can that be {Pravd } Lord Marmion!" 9 MS." And when he felt the fresher air." 10 MS.--" Yet my last thought's for England-lic,

To Dacre give my signet-ring.
l'itz. Eustace, to Lord Surtesno."

Edmund is down :—my life is reft;

A plus man, whom duty brought The Admiral alone is left.

To dubious verge of battle fought, Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. With Chester charge, and Lancashire, Full upon Scotland's central host,

XXXI. Or victory and England's lost.

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, Must I bid twice !--hence, varlets! Ny!

And, as she stoop'd his brow to laveLeave Marmion here alone-to die."

“ Is it the hand of Clare,” he said, They parted, and alone he lay;

“ Or injured Constance, bathes my head !" Clare drew her from the sight away,

Then, as remembrance rose, Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan,

“ Speak not to me of shrift or prayer! And half he murmur'd,-“ Is there none,

I must redress her woes. Of all my halls have nurst,

Short space, few words, are mine to spare ; Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring

Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!"Of blessed water from the spring,

“ Alas !” she said, “ the while, To slake my dying thirst !”

O, think of your immortal weal!

In vain for Constance is your zeal ;

She--died at Holy Isle.”-
O, Woman! in our hours of ease,

Lord Marmion started from the ground, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,

As light as if he felt no wound; And variable as the shade

Though in the action burst the tide, By the light quivering aspen made;

In torrents, from his wounded side. When pain and anguish wring the brow,

“ Then it was truth,"—he said " I knew A ministering angel thou !

That the dark presage must be true.Scarce were the piteous accents said,

I would the Fiend, to whom belongs When, with the Baron's casque, the maid

The vengeance due to all her wrongs, To the nigh streamlet ran :

Would spare me but a day! Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears;

For wasting fire, and dying groan, The plaintive voice alone she hears,

And priests slain on the altar stone, Sees but the dying man.

Might bribe him for delay. She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 3

It may not be !--this dizzy trance But in abhorrence backward drew;

Curse on yon base marauder's lance, For, oozing from the mountain's side,

And doubly cursed my failing brand ! Where raged the war, a dark-red tide

A sinful heart makes feeble hand." Was curdling in the streamlet blue.

Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, Where shall she turn ?behold her mark

Supported by the trembling Monk.
A little fountain cell,
Where water, clear as diamond-spark,

In a stone basin fell.

With fruitless labour, Clara bound, Above, some half-worn letters say,

And strove to stanch the gushing wound: Drink. weary. pilg: im. drink. and. pray. The Monk, with unavailing cares, For the kind. soul. of. Sybil. Grey.

Exhausted all the Church's prayers. Tuha. built. this. cross. and. well.

Ever, he said, that, close and near, She fill’d the helm, and back she hied,

A lady's voice was in his ear, And with surprise and joy espied

And that the priest he could not hear; A monk supporting Marmion's head:

For that she ever sung,

1 MS.-“ Full on King James' central host."

2 “ The hero of the piece, Marmion, who has been guilty of scducing a nun, and abandoning her to be buried alive, of forgery to ruin a friend, and of perfidy in endeavouring to seduce away from him the object of his tenderest affections, fights and dies gloriously, and is indebted to the injured Clara for the last drop of water to cool his dying thirst. This last act of disinterested attention extorts from the author the smoothest, sweetest, and tenderest lines in the whole poem. It is with pleasure that we extract numbers 80 harmonious from the discords by which they are surrounded."-Critical Review.

Por, oozing from the mountains wide
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide

Was curdling in the streamlet blue.
Where shall she turn? behold, she marka

A little vaulted cell,
Whose water, clear as diamond sparks,

In a rude basin fell.
Above, some half worn letters say,

Drink, passing pilgrim, drink, and pray." 4 MS.-" Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan,

And priests gorged on the altar stone,

Might bribe him for delay,
And all by whom the deed was done,
Shoud with myself become his onen

It may not be"

8 MS." She stoop'd her by the runnel's tide,

But in abhorrence soon withdrew,

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