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And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,
By glen and streamlet winded still, And still the scatter'd Southron fled before.?
Where stunted birches hid the rill.
They might not choose the lowland road," Still, with vain fondness, could I trace,
For the Merse forayers were abroad, Anew, each kind familiar face,
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, That brighten'd at our evening fire!
Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. From the thatch'd mansion’s grey-hair'd Sire, Oft on the trampling band, from crown Wise without learning, plain and good,
Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down; And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;
On wing of jet, from his repose Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen,
In the deep heath, the black-cock rose; Show'd what in youth its glance had been;
Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Nor waited for the bending bow; Content with equity unbought ;3
And when the stony path began, To him the venerable Priest,
By which the naked peak they wan, Our frequent and familiar guest,
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. Whose life and manners well could paint
The noon had long been pass'd before Alike the student and the saint ;4
They gain’d the height of Lammermoor ;' Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
Thence winding down the northern way, With gambol rude and timeless joke :
Before them, at the close of day,
Old Gifford's towers and bamlet lay.7
No summons calls them to the tower,
To spend the hospitable hour. For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask
To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone; The classic poet's well-conn'd task?
His cautious dame, in bower alone, Nay, Erskine, nay-On the wild hill
Dreaded her castle to unclose, Let the wild heath-bell flourish still;
So late, to unknown friends or foes. Cherish the tulip, prune the vine,
On through the hamlet as they paced, But freely let the woodbine twine,
Before a porch, whose front was graced And leave, udtrimm'd the eglantine:
With bush and flagon trimly placed, Nay, my friend, nay–Since oft thy praise
Lord Marmion drew his rein: Hath given fresh vigour to my lays ;
The village inn seem'd large, though rude; Since oft thy judgment could refine
Its cheerful fire and hearty food My flattend thought, or cumbrous line;
Might well relieve his train. Still kind, as is thy wont, attend,
Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, And in the minstrel spare the friend.
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung; Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale,
They bind their lorses to the stall,
For forage, food, and firing call,
Weighing the labour with the cost,
Toils everywhere the bustling host.
The Hostel, or Inn.
Bore wealth of winter cheer;
I See notes on The Eve of St. John.
minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower 18 2 Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet. situated.
3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that 5 MS.—“They might not choose the easier road, the lines,
For many a forayer was abroad."
6 Sce Notes to “ The Bride of Lammermoor." Waverley “Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Novels, vols. xiii. and xiv. Content with equity unbought :"
7 The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddinghave been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's ton: closc to it is Yester House, the seat of the Marquis of beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton.–1808. Note Tweeddale, and a little farther up the stream, which descends to Second Edit.
from the hills of Lammermoor, are the remains of the old 1 MS.—“The student, gentleman, and saint."
castle of the family. The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin. 8 See Appendix, Note 2 N.
How pale his cheek, his eye how brigk:,
Glances beneath his cowl !
Endure that sullen scowl.”
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store,
And savoury haunch of deer.
Were tools for housewives' hand; Nor wanted, in that martial day, The implements of Scottish fray,
The buckler, lance, and brand. Beneath its shade, the place of state, On oaken settle Marmion sate, And view'd around the blazing hearth, His followers mix in noisy mirth; Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, From ancient vessels ranged aside, Full actively their host supplied.
VII. But Marmion, as to chase the awe Which thus had quell’d their hearts, who
The ever-varying fire-light show
Now call’d upon a squire : “ Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, To speed the lingering night away?
We slumber by the fire.”
IV. Theirs was the glee of martial breast, And laughter theirs at little jest; And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, And mingle in the mirth they made; For though, with men of high degree, The proudest of the proud was he, Yet, train’d in camps, he knew the art To win the soldier's hardy heart. They love a captain to obey, Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May; With open hand, and brow as free, Lover of wine and minstrelsy; Ever the first to scale a tower, As venturous in a lady's bower :Such buxom chief shall lead his host From India's fires to Zembla's frost.
VIII. “ So please you,” thus the youth rejoin'd, « Our choicest minstrel's left behind. Ill may we hope to please your ear, Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear. The harp full deftly can he strike, And wake the lover's lute alike; To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush, No nightingale her love-lorn tune More sweetly warbles to the moon. Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, Detains from us his melody, Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern, Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. Now must I venture, as I may, To sing his favourite roundelay.”
V. Resting upon his pilgrim staff,
Right opposite the Palmer stood; His thin dark visage seen but half,
Half hidden by his hood. Still fix'd on Marmion was his look, Which he, who ill such gaze could brook,
Strove hy a frown to quell; But not for that, though more than once Full met their stern encountering glance,
The Palmer's visage fell.
IX. A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, The air he chose was wild and sad; Such have I heard, in Scottish land, Rise from the busy harvest band, When falls before the mountaineer, On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Now a wild chorus swells the song: Oft have I listen'd, and stood still, As it came soften'd up the hill, And deem'd it the lament of men Who languish’d for their native glen; And thought how sad would be such sound On Susquehana's swampy ground, Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, Recall'd fair Scotland's hills again!
Their glee and game declined.
Thus whisper'd forth his mind: “ Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sight?
Song. Where shali the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
MS.-“ Full met their cyes' encountering glance."
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 proy, For Lutterward and Fontenaye.
XIII. 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 nunderies 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.”
For either in the tone,
That answer he found none.
A feather daunts the brave;
Before their meanest slave.
XV. Well might he falter !—By his aid Was Constance Beverley betray'). Not that he augur’d of the doom, Which on the living closed the tomb: But, tired to hear the desperate maids Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;
Even from his King, a scornful look.' a Ms.-" But tired to hear the furious maid
From his truo maiden's breast,
Parted for ever?
Sounds the far billow,
Under the willow.
There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever, Never again to wake,
Never, O never!
He, the deceiver,
Ruin, and leave her?
Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false-hearted;
Ere life be parted.
By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it,
Never, O never!
It fell on Marmion's ear,
And shameful death, were near.
Between it and the band,
1 Seo Appendix, Note 2 0.
Whoso haughty soul}could never brook.
And wroth, because in wild despair,
| And, pent within the narrow cell, She practised on the life of Clare;
How will her spirit chafe and swell! Its fugitive the Church he gave,
How brook the stern monastic laws! Though not a victim, but a slave;
The penance how—and I the cause ! And deem'd restraint in convent strange
Vigil and scourge-perchance even worse!" Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge.
And twice be rose to cry, “ To horse!”. Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer,
And twice his Sovereign's mandate came, Held Ronish thunders idle fear,
Like damp upon a kindling flame; Secure his pardon he might hold,
And twice he thought, “ Gave I not charge For some slight mulct of penance-gold.
She should be safe, though not at large? Thus judging, he gave secret way,
They durst not, for their island, shred
One golden ringlet from her head.”
While thus in Marmion's bosom strove To mutter what he thought and heard :
Repentance and reviving love, Woe to the vassal, who durst pry
Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway Into Lord Marmion's privacy!
I've seen Loch Vennachar obey,
Their Host the Palmer's speech had XVI.
heard, His conscience slept—he deem'd her well,
And, talkative, took up the word: And safe secured in distant cell;
“ Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray But, waken’d by her favourite lay,
From Scotland's simple land away, And that strange Palmer's boding say,
To visit realms afar, That fell so ominous and drear,
Full often learn the art to know Full on the object of his fear,
Of future weal, or future woe, To aid remorse's venom'd throes,
By word, or sign, or star; Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose ;
Yet might a knight his fortune hear, And Constance, late betray'd and scorn’d,
If, knight-like, he despises fear, All lovely on his soul return’d;
Not far from hence;—if fathers old Lovely as when, at treacherous call,
Aright our hamlet legend told.”She left her convent's peaceful wall,
These broken words the menials move, Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute,
(For marvels still the vulgar love,) Dreading alike escape, pursuit,
And, Marmion giving license cold, Till love, victorious o'er alarms,
His tale the host thus gladly told :-
The Hast's Tale. “ Alas!” he thought,“ how changed that mien ! “ A Clerk could tell what years have flown How changed these timid looks have been,"
Since Alexander fillid our throne, Since years of guilt, and of disguise,
(Third monarch of that warlike name,) Have steeld her brow, and arm’d her eyes !
And eke the time when here he came No more of virgin terror speaks
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord : The blood that mantles in her cheeks ;
A braver never drew a sword; Fierce, and unfeminine, are there,
A wiser never, at the hour Frenzy for joy, for grief despair ;
Of midnight, spoke the word of
power: And I the cause—for whom were given
The same, whom ancient records call Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven!
The founder of the Goblin-Hall.4 Would,” thought he, as the picture grows,
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay “ I on its stalk had left the rose !
Gave you that cavern to survey. Oh, why should man's success remove
Of lofty roof, and ample size, The very charms that wake his love !
Beneath the castle deep it lies: Her convent's peaceful solitude
To hew the living rock profound, Is now a prison harsh and rude ;
The floor to pave, the arch to round,
1 MS.—“ Incensed, because in wild despair."
“ Since fiercer passions wild and high,
And I the cause—for whom were given
And chafe within the narrow cell!"
* 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.
Place him but front to front with me,
XXIII. “ Soon as the midnight bell did ring, Alone, and arm’d, forth rode the King
There never toil'd a mortal arm,
See Appendix, Note 2 Q.
O'er fierce of heart and large of limb." 3 Sco Appendix, Note 2 R. 4 Ibid. Note 2 S. 6 MS.—" Bare many a character and sign,
0. planets retrograde and trine."