CHORUS.

Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap

O'er the false-hearted;

His warm blood the wolf shall lap,

Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonor sit

By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it,Never, O never!

CHORUS.

Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never!

XII.

It ceased, the melancholy sound;
And silence sunk on all around.
The air was sad; but sadder still

It fell on Marmion's ear,
And plain'd as if disgrace and ill,
And shameful death, were near.
He drew his mantle past his face,

Between it and the band,
And rested with his head a space,

Reclining on his hand.

His thoughts I scan not; but I ween,
That could their import have been seen,
The meanest groom in all the hall,
That e'er tied courser to a stall,

Would scarce have wish'd to be their

High minds, of native pride and force,
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse!
Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have,
Thou art the torturer of the brave!
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel,
Even while they writhe beneath the smart
Of civil conflict in the heart.

For soon Lord Marmion raised his head,
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said-
"Is it not strange, that, as ye sung,
Seem'd in mine ear a death-peal rung,
Such as in nunneries they toll
For some departing sister's soul?

Say, what may this portend?"Then first the Palmer silence broke (The livelong day he had not spoke), "The death of a dear friend."

1 See Appendix, Note 2 O.

2 MS.-"Marmion, whose pride could never brook, Whose haughty soul

XIV.

Marmion, whose steady heart and eye
Ne'er changed in worst extremity;
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook,
Even from his King, a haughty look;"
Whose accent of command controll'd,

In camps, the boldest of the bold-
Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now,
Fall'n was his glance, and flush'd his brow:
For either in the tone,

Or something in the Palmer's look,
So full upon his conscience strook,
That answer he found none.
Thus oft it haps, that when within
They shrink at sense of secret sin,

A feather daunts the brave;
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise,
And proudest princes veil their eyes
Before their meanest slave.

XV.

Well might he falter!-By his aid
Was Constance Beverley betray'd.
Not that he augur'd of the doom,
Which on the living closed the tomb:
But, tired to hear the desperate maid3
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;
And wroth, because in wild despair,*
She practised on the life of Clare;
Its fugitive the Church he gave,
Though not a victim, but a slave;
And deem'd restraint in convent strange
Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge.
Himself, proud Henry's favorite peer,
Held Romish thunders idle fear,
Secure his pardon he might hold,
For some slight mulct of penance-gold.
Thus judging, he gave secret way,
When the stern priests surprised their prey.
His train but deem'd the favorite page
Was left behind, to spare his age;
Or other if they deem'd, none dared
To mutter what he thought and heard:
Woe to the vassal who durst pry
Into Lord Marmion's privacy!

XVI.

His conscience slept-he deem'd her well,
And safe secured in distant cell;
But, waken'd by her favorite lay,
And that strange Palmer's boding say,
That fell so ominous and drear,
Full on the object of his fear,

Even from his King, a scornful look." 3 MS. But tired to hear the furious maid." 4 MS.-" Incensed, because in wild despair."

To aid remorse's venom'd throes,
Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose;
And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd,
All lovely on his soul return'd;
Lovely as when, at treacherous call,
She left her convent's peaceful wall,
Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute,
Dreading alike escape, pursuit,
Till love, victorious o'er alarms,
Hid fears and blushes in his arms.

XVII.

"Alas!" he thought, "how changed that mien!
How changed these timid looks have been,'
Since years of guilt, and of disguise,
Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes!
No more of virgin terror speaks
The blood that mantles in her cheeks;
Fierce, and unfeminine, are there,
Phrensy for joy, for grief despair;
And I the cause-for whom were given
Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven!-
Would," thought he, as the picture grows,
"I on its stalk had left the rose !
Oh, why should man's success remove
The very charms that wake his love!-
Her convent's peaceful solitude
Is now a prison harsh and rude;
And, pent within the narrow cell,
How will her spirit chafe and swell!
How brook the stern monastic laws!
The penance how-and I the cause!-
Vigil and scourge-perchance even worse!"—
And twice he rose to cry, "To horse!"-
And twice his Sovereign's mandate came,
Like damp upon a kindling flame;

And twice he thought, "Gave I not charge
She should be safe, though not at large!
They durst not, for their island, shred
One golden ringlet from her head."

Full often learn the art to know Of future weal, or future woe,

By word, or sign, or star; Yet might a knight his fortune hear, If, knight-like, he despises fear, Not far from hence ;-if fathers old Aright our hamlet legend told."These broken words the menials move (For marvels still the vulgar love), And, Marmion giving license cold, His tale the host thus gladly told :

XIX.

The Post's Tale.

"A Clerk could tell what years have flown
Since Alexander fill'd our throne
(Third monarch of that warlike name),
And eke the time when here he came
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord:
A braver never drew a sword;
A wiser never, at the hour

Of midnight, spoke the word of power:
The same, whom ancient records call
The founder of the Goblin-Hall.

I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay
Gave you that cavern to survey.
Of lofty roof, and ample size,
Beneath the castle deep it lies:
To hew the living rock profound,
The floor to pave, the arch to round,
There never toil'd a mortal arm,

It all was wrought by word and charm;
And I have heard my grandsire say,
That the wild clamor and affray
Of those dread artisans of hell,
Who labor'd under Hugo's spell,
Sounded as loud as ocean's war,
Among the caverns of Dunbar.

XX.

"The King Lord Gifford's castle sought,
Deep laboring with uncertain thought;
Even then he muster'd all his host,
To meet upon the western coast:
For Norse and Danish galleys plied
Their oars within the frith of Clyde.
There floated Haco's banner trim,"
Above Norweyan warriors grim,
Savage of heart, and large of limb;
Threatening both continent and isle,
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle.

How will her ardent spirit swell,
And chafe within the narrow cell!"

2 MS.-"From this plain simple land away.'

3 See Appendix, Note 2 P.

4 See Appendix, Note 2 Q.

6 MS.-There floated Haco's banner grim

O'er fierce of heart and large of limb."

Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground,
Heard Alexander's bugle sound,
And tarried not his garb to change,
But, in his wizard habit strange,1
Came forth, a quaint and fearful sight;
His mantle lined with fox-skins white;
His high and wrinkled forehead bore
A pointed cap, such as of yore
Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore:

His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell,
Upon his breast a pentacle;a

His zone, of virgin parchment thin,
Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin,
Bore many a planetary sign,
Combust, and retrograde, and trine;"
And in his hand he held prepared,
A naked sword without a guard.

XXI.

Dire dealings with the fiendish race Had mark'd strange lines upon his face; Vigil and fast had worn him grim, His eyesight dazzled seem'd and dim, As one unused to upper day; Even his own menials with dismay Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire, In his unwonted wild attire; Unwonted, for traditions run, He seldom thus beheld the sun.

I know,' he said-his voice was hoarse, And broken seem'd its hollow force,'I know the cause, although untold, Why the King seeks his vassal's hold: Vainly from me my liege would know His kingdom's future weal or woe; But yet, if strong his arm and heart, His courage may do more than art.

XXII.

Of middle air the demons proud,
Who ride upon the racking cloud,
Can read, in fix'd or wandering star,
The issue of events afar;

But still their sullen aid withhold,
Save when by mightier force controll❜d.
Such late I summon'd to my hall;
And though so potent was the call,
That scarce the deepest nook of hell
I deem'd a refuge from the spell,

Yet, obstinate in silence still,
The haughty demon mocks my skill.
But thou-who little know'st thy might,

1 See Appendix, Note 2 R.

As born upon that blessed night*
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaim'd hell's empire overthrown,—
With untaught valor shalt compel
Response denied to magic spell.'—”
'Gramercy,' quoth out Monarch free,
'Place him but front to front with me,
And, by this good and honor'd brand,
The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand,
Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide,
The demon shall a buffet bide.'-
His bearing bold the wizard view'd,
And thus, well pleased, his speech renew'd:-
'There spoke the blood of Malcolm !—mark :
Forth, pacing hence, at midnight dark,
The rampart seek, whose circling crown'
Crests the ascent of yonder down:
A southern entrance shalt thou find;
There halt, and there thy bugle wind,
And trust thine elfin foe to see,

In guise of thy worst enemy:

Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed-
Upon him! and Saint George to speed!
If he go down, thou soon shalt know
Whate'er these airy sprites can show ;—
If thy heart fail thee in the strife,
I am no warrant for thy life.'

XXIII.

"Soon as the midnight bell did ring,
Alone, and arm'd, forth rode the King
To that old camp's deserted round:
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound,
Left hand the town,-the Pictish race,
The trench, long since, in blood did trace;
The moor around is brown and bare,
The space within is green and fair.
The spot our village children know,
For there the earliest wild-flowers grow;
But woe betide the wandering wight,
That treads its circle in the night!
The breadth across, a bowshot clear,
Gives ample space for full career:
Opposed to the four points of heaven,
By four deep gaps are entrance given.
The southernmost our Monarch past,
Halted, and blew a gallant blast;
And on the north, within the ring,
Appear'd the form of England's King,
Who then, a thousand leagues afar,
In Palestine waged holy war:
Yet arms like England's did he wield,

MS.-" Bare many a character and sign,

Of planets retrograde and trine."

4 See Appendix, Note 2 T.

MS.-"With untaught valor mayst compel

What is denied to magic spell."

that

yon

old camp which

trench that

as a crown."

MS.-" Alone, and arm'd, rode forth the King To that encampment's haunted round." MS.-"The southern gate our Monarch past."

Alike the leopards in the shield,
Alike his Syrian courser's frame,
The rider's length of limb the same:
Long afterwards did Scotland know,
Fell Edward' was her deadliest foe.

XXIV.

"The vision made our Monarch start,
But soon he mann'd his noble heart,
And in the first career they ran,
The Elfin Knight fell, horse and man;
Yet did a splinter of his lance
Through Alexander's visor glance,
And razed the skin-a puny wound.
The King, light leaping to the ground,
With naked blade his phantom foe
Compell'd the future war to show.
Of Largs he saw the glorious plain,
Where still gigantic bones remain,
Memorial of the Danish war;
Himself he saw, amid the field,
On high his brandish'd war-axe wield,

And strike proud Haco from his car,
While all around the shadowy Kings
Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their wings.
"Tis said, that, in that awful night,
Remoter visions met his sight,
Foreshowing future conquests far,'
When our sons' sons wage northern war;
A royal city, tower and spire,
Redden'd the midnight sky with fire,
And shouting crews her navy bore,
Triumphant to the victor shore.3
Such signs may learned clerks explain,
They pass the wit of simple swain.

XXV.

"The joyful King turn'd home again,
Headed his host, and quell'd the Dane;
But yearly, when return'd the night
Of his strange combat with the sprite,
His wound must bleed and smart;
Lord Gifford then would gibing say,
'Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay
The penance of your start.'

Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave,
King Alexander fills his grave,

Our Lady give him rest!

Yet still the knightly spear and shield

1 Edward I., surnamed Longshanks.

2 MS.-"To be fulfill'd in times afar,

When our sons' sons wage northern war;
A royal city's towers and spires
Redden'd the midnight sky with fires,
And shouting crews her navy bore,

Triumphant, from the vanquish'd shore."

For an account of the expedition to Copenhagen in 1801,

see Southey's Life of Nelson, chap. vii.

The Elfin Warrior doth wield,

Upon the brown hill's breast;

And many a knight hath proved his chance,
In the charm'd ring to break a lance,
But all have foully sped;

Save two, as legends tell, and they
Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay.-
Gentles, my tale is said."

XXVI.

The quaighs were deep, the liquor strong,
And on the tale the yeoman-throng
Had made a comment sage and long,

But Marmion gave a sign:

And, with their lord, the squires retire;
The rest, around the hostel fire,

Their drowsy limbs recline;
For pillow, underneath each head,
The quiver and the targe were laid.
Deep slumbering on the hostel floor,
Oppress'd with toil and ale, they snore:
The dying flame, in fitful change,
Threw on the group its shadows strange.

XXVII.

Apart, and nestling in the hay
Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay;
Scarce, by the pale moonlight, were seen
The foldings of his mantle green:
Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream,
Of sport by thicket, or by stream,
Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove,
Or, lighter yet, of lady's love.

A cautious tread his slumber broke,
And, close beside him, when he woke,
In moonbeam half, and half in gloom,
Stood a tall form, with nodding plume;
But, ere his dagger Eustace drew,
His master Marmion's voice he knew."

XXVIII.

-"Fitz-Eustace! rise, I cannot rest;
Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast,
And graver thoughts have chafed my mood:
The air must cool my feverish blood;
And fain would I ride forth, to see
The scene of elfin chivalry.
Arise, and saddle me my steed;
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed

4 See Appendix, Note 2 U.

A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together.
MS." Deep slumbering on the floor of clay,
Oppress'd with toil and ale, they lay,
The dying flame, in fitful change,
Threw on them lights and shadows strange."

7 MS." But, ere his dagger Eustace drew,
It spoke-Lord Marmion's voice he knew."
MS.-"Come down and saddle me my steed."

Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves;
I would not, that the prating knaves
Had cause for saying, o'er their ale,
That I could credit such a tale."-
Then softly down the steps they slid,
Eustace the stable door undid,

And, darkling, Marmion's steed array'd,
While, whispering, thus the Baron said:-

XXIX.

* Didst never, good my youth, hear tell,
That on the hour when I was born,
Saint George, who graced my sire's chapelle,
Down from his steed of marble fell,

A weary wight forlorn?
The flattering chaplains all agree,
The champion left his steed to me.
I would, the omen's truth to show,
That I could meet this Elfin Foe!!
Blithe would I battle, for the right
To ask one question at the sprite :-
Vain thought! for elves, if elves there be,
An empty race, by fount or sea,

To dashing waters dance and sing,'

Or round the green oak wheel their ring."
Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode,
And from the hostel slowly rode.

XXX.

Fitz-Eustace follow'd him abroad,

And mark'd him pace the village road,
And listen'd to his horse's tramp,
Till, by the lessening sound,
He judged that of the Pictish camp

Lord Marmion sought the round.
Wonder it seem'd, in the squire's eyes,
That one, so wary held, and wise,—
Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received
For gospel, what the church believed,—
Should, stirr'd by idle tale,

Ride forth in silence of the night,
As hoping half to meet a sprite,
Array'd in plate and mail.
For little did Fitz-Eustace know,
That passions, in contending flow,

Unfix the strongest mind;
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee,
We welcome fond credulity,
Guide confident, though blind.

XXXI

Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared,
But, patient, waited till he heard,
At distance, prick'd to utmost speed,

1 MS.-"I would, to prove the omen right,
That I could meet this Elfin Knight!"
MS." Dance to the wild waves' murmuring."
Yede, used by old poets for went.

The foot-tramp of a flying steed,
Come town-ward rushing on;
First, dead, as if on turf it trode,
Then, clattering, on the village road,—
In other pace than forth he yode,3
Return'd Lord Marmion.
Down hastily he sprung from selle,
And, in his haste, wellnigh he fell;
To the squire's hand the rein he threw,
And spoke no word as he withdrew:
But yet the moonlight did betray,
The falcon-crest was soil'd with clay;
And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see,
By stains upon the charger's knee,
And his left side, that on the moor
He had not kept his footing sure.
Long musing on these wondrous signs,
At length to rest the squire reclines,
Broken and short; for still, between,
Would dreams of terror intervene :
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark
The first notes of the morning lark.

Marmion.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH.

TO

JAMES SKENE, ESQ.4

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest.

AN ancient minstrel sagely said,
"Where is the life which late we led?"
That Motley clown in Arden wood,

Whom humorous Jacques with envy view'd,
Not even that clown could amplify,
On this trite text, so long as I.
Eleven years we now may tell,
Since we have known each other well;
Since, riding side by side, our hand
First drew the voluntary brand;"

And sure, through many a varied scene,
Unkindness never came between.
Away these winged years have flown,
To join the mass of ages gone;

And though deep mark'd, like all below,
With checker'd shades of joy and woe;
Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged,
Mark'd cities lost, and empires changed,
While here, at home, my narrower ken

4 James Skene, Esq., of Rubislaw, Aberdeenshire, was Cornet in the Royal Edinburgh Light Horse Volunteers; and Sir Walter 'cott was Quartermaster of the same corps.

5 MS." Unsheath'd the voluntary brand."