Where all around, a wakeful guard, Of jarring grindstone was applied. Page, groom, and squires, with hurrying pace, Through street, and lane, and market-place, Bore lance, or casque, or sword; While burghers, with important face, Described each new-come lord, Discuss'd his lineage, told his name, His following, and his warlike fame.-The lion led to lodging meet, Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street; There must the baron rest, Till past the hour of vesper tide, And then to Holy-Rood must ride,— Such was the king's behest. Meanwhile the lion's care assigns A banquet rich, and costly wines, To Marmion and his train; And when the appointed hour succeeds, VII. Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, For he had charged, that his array This feast outshone his banquets past; Following-Feudal retainers. And flinty is her heart, can view To battle march a lover true,Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, Nor own her share of pain. VIII. Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game, His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, The dazzled eye beguiled; His gorgeous collar hung adown, IX. The monarch's form was middle size; Shaped in proportion fair; His short curl'd beard and hair. Light was his footstep in the dance, And firm his stirrup in the lists; And, O! he had that merry glance That seldom lady's heart resists. Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue;Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. I said he joy'd in banquet-bower; But, mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, How suddenly his cheer would change, His look o'ercast and lower, If, in a sudden turn, he felt The pressure of his iron belt, That bound his breast in penance pain, In memory of his father slain. Even so 'twas strange how evermore, Soon as the passing pang was o'er, Forward he rush'd, with double glee, Into the stream of revelry: Thus, dim-seen object of affright Startles the courser in his flight, And half he halts, half springs aside; But feels the quickening spur applied, And, straining on the tighten'd rein, Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. X. O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, Had sent his lovely dame. Nor to that lady free alone Did the gay king allegiance own; Sent him a Turquois ring, and glove, And charged him, as her knight and love, And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, In English breezes dance. And thus, for France's queen he drest And thus, for both, he madly plann'd And yet, the sooth to tell, His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. XI. The queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, And weeps the weary day, The war against her native soil, Upon the harp to play. Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er The strings her fingers flew; And as she touch'd, and tuned them all, Ever her bosom's rise and fall Was plainer given to view; For all, for heat, was laid aside, Her wimple, and her hood untied. And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the king, And then around the silent ring; And laugh'd, and blush'd, and oft did say, Her pretty oath, by yea and nay, She could not, would not, durst not play! A soft, yet lively air she rung, XII. LOCHINVAR. LADY HERON'S SONG. 0, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, var. He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied: Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye, He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochin var. So stately his form, and so lovely his face, And the bride-maidens whisper'd, ""Twere better by far To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they sec. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? XIII. The monarch o'er the syren hung, And beat the measure as she sung; And, pressing closer, and more near, He whisper'd praises in her ear. In loud applause, the courtiers vied; And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside. The witching dame to Marmion threw A glance, where seem'd to reign The pride that claims applauses due, And of her royal conquest, too, A real or feign'd disdain: Familiar was the look, and told, Marmion and she were friends of old. The king observed their meeting eyes, With something like displeased surprise; For monarchs ill can rivals brook, E'en in a word, or smile, or look. Straight took he forth the parchment broad, Which Marmion's high commission show'd: "Our borders sack'd by many a raid, Our peaceful liegemen robb'd," he said; "On day of truce our warden slain, Stout Barton kill'd his vessels ta'enUnworthy were we here to reign, Should these for vengeance cry in vain; Our full defiance, hate, and scorn, Our herald has to Henry borne." XIV. He paused, and led where Douglas stood, And, when his blood and heart were high, On Lauders dreary flat: Princes and favourites long grew tame, Its dungeons, and its towers, And for a staff his brand; And minion's pride withstand; XV. His giant form, like ruin'd tower, Though fallen its muscles' brawny vaunt, Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower: His locks and beard in silver grew; While slightest hopes of peace remain, A chief unlike his sires of old. XVI. In answer naught could Angus speak; A burning tear there stole. I well may say of you,- XVII. Displeased was James, that stranger view'd And tamper'd with his changing mood. *O, Dowglas! Dowglas! Tendir and trew.-The Houlate. "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 hall king James would come; But Nottingham has archers good, And Yorkshiremen 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 !"* 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." XVIII. Leave we these revels now, to tell And soon, by his command, The abbess told her chaplet o'er, Nor knew which saint she should implore; Their lodging, so the king assign'd, The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant. "O, holy palmer!" she began,- And had made league with Martin Swart, For in his packet there were laid He strove to clear, by spear and shield ;- 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, Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, Only one trace of earthly stain, Should do a deadly sin. Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes, XXIII. "Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd To evil power, I claim thine aid, By every step that thou hast trod And by the church of God! For mark:-When Wilton was betray'd, No clerk in all the land, like her, 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, 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, Though sinners perfidy impure, Her house's glory to secure, And Clare's immortal weal. XXIV. ""Twere long and needless, here to tell, With me they must not stay. O blessed saint, if e'er again I venturous leave thy calm domain, Deep penance may I pay! Now, saintly palmer, mark my prayer; I give this packet to thy care, While priests can sing and read.— That on the breeze did die ; And loud the abbess shriek'd in fear, See on its battled tower appear Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear And blazon banners toss !" XXV. Dun-Edin's cross, a pillar'd stone, (But now is razed that monument, And voice of Scotland's law was sent O! be his tomb as lead to lead, • i. e. curse. |