His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquer'd in the right, Marmion of Fontenaye!"

XIII.

Then stepp'd to meet that noble Lord,
Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford,
And Captain of the Hold.'

He led Lord Marmion to the deas,

Raised o'er the pavement high,
And placed him in the upper place-
They feasted full and high:
The whiles a Northern harper rude
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud,

"How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys

all,

Stout Willimondswick,

And Hardriding Dick,

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the
Wall,

Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh,
And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw.”
Scantily Lord Marmion's ear could brook
The harper's barbarous lay;
Yet much he praised the pains he took,
And well those pains did pay:

For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain,
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain.

XIV.

"Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy,

I pray you bide some little space

In this poor tower with me.

Here may you keep your arms from rust,
May breathe your war-horse well;
Seldom has pass'd a week but giust
Or feats of arms befell:

The Scots can rein a mettled steed;

And love to couch a spear;-
Saint George! a stirring life they lead,
That have such neighbors near.
Then stay with us a little space,
Our northern wars to learn;

I pray you, for your lady's grace !"
Lord Marmion's brow grew stern.

1 See Appendix, Note L.
MS.-"And let me pray thee fair."

2 Ibid. Note M.

4 MS.-"To rub a shield or sharp a brand." MS.-"Lord Marmion ill such jest could brook,

He roll'd his kindling eye;

Fix'd on the Knight his dark haught look,
And answer'd stern and high:
'That page thou didst so closely eye,
So fair of hand and skin,

XV.

The Captain mark'd his alter'd look,
And gave a squire the sign;
A mighty wassail-bowl he took,
And crown'd it high in wine.
"Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion:
But first I pray thee fair,

Where hast thou left that page of thine,
That used to serve thy cup of wine,

Whose beauty was so rare? When last in Raby towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, With tears he fain would hide: His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, To burnish shield or sharpen brand,*

Or saddle battle-steed;

But meeter seemed for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare,
The slender silk to lead:
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,

His bosom-when he sigh'd,
The russet doublet's rugged fold

Could scarce repel its pride! Say, hast thou given that lovely youth To serve in lady's bower? Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paramour ?”

XVI.

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; He roll'd his kindling eye,

With pain his rising wrath suppress'd,

Yet made a calm reply: "That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, He might not brook the northern air. More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, I left him sick in Lindisfarn:" Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, Why does thy lovely lady gay Disdain to grace the hall to day? Or has that dame, so fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage ?”— He spoke in covert scorn, for fame Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame."

XVII.

Unmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt,
Careless the Knight replied,

Is come, I ween, of lineage high,
And of thy lady's kin.

That youth, so like a paramour,
Who wept for shame and pride,
Was erst, in Wilton's lordly bower,
Sir Ralph de Wilton's bride.' **

See Note 2 B, canto ii. stanza 1.
MS.-"Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dame."
MS.-"The Captain gay replied."

"Now, m good sooth," Lord Marmion cried,
"Were I in warlike wise to ride,
A better guard I would not lack,
Than your stout forayers at my back;
But, as in form of peace I go,
A friendly messenger, to know,
Why through all Scotland, near and far,
Their King is mustering troops for war,
The sight of plundering Border spears
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil,
Break out in some unseemly broil:
A herald were my fitting guide;

IMS.-"She'll stoop again when tired her wing." See Appendix, Note N.

Or friar, sworn in peace to bide; Or pardoner, or travelling priest, Or strolling pilgrim, at the least."

XXI.

The Captain mused a little space,
And pass'd his hand across his face.
-"Fain would I find the guide you want,
But ill may spare a pursuivant,

The only men that safe can ride
Mine errands on the Scottish side:
And though a bishop built this fort,
Few holy brethren here resort;
Even our good chaplain, as I ween,
Since our last siege, we have not seen:
The mass he might not sing or say,
Upon one stinted meal a-day;
So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,
And pray'd for our success the while.
Our Norham vicar, woe betide,

Is all too well in case to ride;

The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train;

But then, no spearman in the hall
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man
A blithesome brother at the can,
A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,
In which the wine and ale is good,
"Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.
But that good man, as ill befalls,
Hath seldom left our castle walls,
Since, on the vigil of St. Bede,
In evil hour, he cross'd the Tweed,
To teach Dame Alison her creed.
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife;
And John, an enemy to strife,

Sans frock and hood, fled for his life.
The jealous churl hath deeply swore,
That, if again he venture o'er,
He shall shrieve penitent no more.
Little he loves such risks, I know;
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go."

XXII.

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board,
Carved to his uncle and that lord,
And reverently took up the word.
"Kind uncle, woe were we each one,
If harm should hap to brother John.
He is a man of mirthful speech,
Can many a game and gambol teach:
Full well at tables can he play,
And sweep at bowls the stake away.

See Appendix, Note O. Ibid. Note P.

None can a lustier carol bawl,

The needfullest among us all,

When time hangs heavy in the hall,
And snow comes thick at Christmas tide,
And we can neither hunt, nor ride
A foray on the Scottish side.

The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude,
May end in worse than loss of hood.
Let Friar John, in safety, still
In chimney-corner snore his fill,
Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill:
Last night, to Norham there came one,
Will better guide Lord Marmion."—
"Nephew," quoth Heron, "by my fay,
Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say."-

XXIII.

"Here is a holy Palmer come,

From Salem first, and last from Rome;
One, that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb,
And visited each holy shrine,
In Araby and Palestine;

On hills of Armenie hath been,

Where Noah's ark may yet be seen;
By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod,
Which parted at the prophet's rod;
In Sinai's wilderness he saw

The Mount, where Israel heard the law
'Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin,
And shadows, mists, and darkness, given.
He shows Saint James's cockle-shell,
Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell;

And of that Grot where Olives nod,1 Where, darling of each heart and eye, From all the youth of Sicily,

Saint Rosalie' retired to God.'

XXIV.

"To stout Saint George of Norwich merry,
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury,
Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede,
For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd.
He knows the passes of the North,
And seeks for shrines beyond the Forth;
Little he cats, and long will wake,
And drinks but of the stream or lake.
This were a guide o'er moor and dale;
But, when our John hath quaff'd his ale,
As little as the wind that blows,

1 MS.-" And of the olive's shaded cell."

2 MS.-" Retired to God St. Rosalie."

See Appendix, Note Q.

MS." And with metheglin warm'd his nose,

As little as," &c.

"This poem has faults of too great magnitude to be passed without notice. There is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in some passages, which we think must be offensive to every reader of delicacy, and which are not, for the most part, reweemed by any vigor or picturesque effect. The venison pasties,

And warms itself against his nose,*
Kens he, or cares, which way he goes."-

XXV.

"Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion,
"Full loth were I, that Friar John,
That venerable man, for me,
Were placed in fear or jeopardy.
If this same Palmer will me lead
From hence to Holy-Rood,
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed,
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead,

With angels fair and good.
I love such holy ramblers; still
They know to charm a weary hill,
With song, romance, or lay:
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,
Some lying legend, at the least,

They bring to cheer the way."—

XXVI.

"Ah! noble sir," young Selby said, And finger on his lip he laid,

This man knows much, perchance e'en more Than he could learn by holy lore.

Still to himself he's muttering,
And shrinks as at some unseen thing.
Last night we listen'd at his cell;

Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell,
He murmur'd on till morn, howe'er
No living mortal could be near.
Sometimes I thought I heard it plain,
As other voices spoke again.

I cannot tell-I like it not-
Friar John hath told us it is wrote,
No conscience clear, and void of wrong,
Can rest awake, and pray so long.
Himself still sleeps before his beads
Have mark'd ten aves, and two creeds."-"

XXVII.

-"Let pass," quoth Marmion; "by my fay, This man shall guide me on my way, Although the great arch-fiend and he Had sworn themselves of company. So please you, gentle youth, to call This Palmer' to the Castle-hall." The summon'd Palmer came in place; His sable cowl o'erhung his face;

we think, are of this description; and this commemoration Sir Hugh Heron's troopers, who

'Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,' &c. The long account of Friar John, though not without mer offends in the same sort, nor can we easily conceive, how a one could venture, in a serious poem, to speak of

the wind that blows,

And warms itself against his nose.' "'—JEFFREY. See Appendix, Note R. 7 Ibid. Note 8.

In his black mantle was he clad,
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red,

On his broad shoulders wrought; The scallop shell his cap did deck; The crucifix around his neck

Was from Loretto brought; His sandals were with travel tore, Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore; The faded palm-branch in his hand Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land.1

XXVIII.

When as the Palmer came in hall,

Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall,

Or had a statelier step withal,

Or look'd more high and keen;

For no saluting did he wait,
But strode across the hall of state,
And fronted Marmion where he sate,

As he his peer had been.

But his gaunt frame was worn with toil;
His cheek was sunk, alas the while!
And when he struggled at a smile,

His eye look'd haggard wild:

Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,
If she had been in presence there,
In his wan face, and sun-burn'd hair,
She had not known her child.
Danger, long travel, want, or woe,

Soon change the form that best we know-
For deadly fear can time outgo,

And blanch at once the hair;
Hard toil can roughen form and face,3

And want can quench the eye's bright grace,
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace

More deeply than despair.
Happy whom none of these befall,*
But this poor Palmer knew them all.

From midnight to the dawn of day,
Sung to the billows' sound;
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,
Whose spring can phrensied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore:7

Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring
Could back to peace my bosom bring,
Or bid it throb no more!"

XXX.

And now the midnight draught of sleep,
Where wine and spices richly steep,

In massive bowl of silver deep,
The page presents on knee.
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest,
The Captain pledged his noble guest,
The cup went through among the rest,
Who drain'd it merrily;
Alone the Palmer pass'd it by,
Though Selby press'd him courteously.
This was a sign the feast was o'er;
It hush'd the merry wassel roar,'
The minstrels ceased to sound.
Soon in the castle naught was heard,
But the slow footstep of the guard,
Pacing his sober round.

XXXI

With early dawn Lord Marmion rose:
And first the chapel doors unclose;
Then, after morning rites were done
(A hasty mass from Friar John),10

And knight and squire had broke their fast,

On rich substantial repast,

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse:
Then came the stirrup-cup in course:
Between the Baron and his host,

No point of courtesy was lost:
High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid,
Solemn excuse the Captain made,
Till, filing from the gate, had pass'd
That noble train, their Lord the last.
Then loudly rung the trumpet call;
Thunder'd the cannon from the wall,

And shook the Scottish shore;
Around the castle eddied slow,
Volumes of smoke as white as snow,

And hid its turrets hoar;

Till they roll'd forth upon the air,' And met the river breezes there, Which gave again the prospect fair.

Marmion.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND.

TO THE

REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A. M.

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest.

THE scenes are desert now, and bare,
Where flourish'd once a forest fair,2
When these waste glens with copse were lined,
And peopled with the hart and hind.

Yon Thorn-perchance whose prickly spears
Have fenced him for three hundred years,
While fell around his green compeers-
Yon lonely Thorn, would he could tell
The changes of his parent dell,3
Since he, so gray and stubborn now,
Waved in each breeze a sapling bough;
Would he could tell how deep the shade
A thousand mingled branches made;
How broad the shadows of the oak,
How clung the rowan to the rock,
And through the foliage show'd his head,
With narrow leaves and berries red;
What pines on every mountain sprung,
O'er every dell what birches hung,
In every breeze what aspens shook,
What alders shaded every brook!

"Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, "The mighty stag at noon-tide lay: The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game (The neighboring dingle bears his name), With lurching step around me prowl, And stop, against the moon to howl; The mountain-boar, on battle set, His tusks upon my stem would whet;

1 MS.-"Slow they roll'd forth upon the air."

2 See Appendix, Note V.

3 "The second epistle opens again with 'chance and change;' but it cannot be denied that the mode in which it is introduced is new and poetical. The comparison of Ettrick Forest, now open and naked, with the state in which it once was--covered with wood, the favorite resort of the royal hunt, and the refuge of daring outlaws--leads the poet to imagine an ancient thorn gifted with the powers of reason, and relating the various scenes which it has witnessed during a period of three hundred years. A melancholy train of fancy is naturally encouraged by the idea."-Monthly Review.

While doe, and roe, and red-deer good,
Have bounded by, through gay green-wood.
Then oft, from Newark's riven tower,
Sallied a Scottish monarch's power:

A thousand vassals muster'd round,
With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound;
And I might see the youth intent,
Guard every pass with crossbow bent;
And through the brake the rangers stalk,
And falc'ners hold the ready hawk;
And foresters, in green-wood trim,
Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim,
Attentive, as the bratchet's bay
From the dark covert drove the prey,
To slip them as he broke away.
The startled quarry bounds amain,
As fast the gallant greyhounds strain;
Whistles the arrow from the bow,
Answers the harquebuss below;
While all the rocking hills reply,
To hoof-clang, hound, and hunter's cry,
And bugles ringing lightsomely."

Of such proud huntings, many tales Yet linger in our lonely dales, Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow, Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow." But not more blithe than silvan court, Than we have been at humbler sport; Though small our pomp, and mean our game, Our mirth, dear Marriott, was the same. Remember'st thou my greyhounds true! O'er holt or hill there never flew, From slip or leash there never sprang, More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. Nor dull, between each merry chase, Pass'd by the intermitted space; For we had fair resource in store, In Classic and in Gothic lore: We mark'd each memorable scene, And held poetic talk between; Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along, But had its legend or its song. All silent now-for now are still Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill! No longer, from thy mountains dun,

4 Mountain-ash.

MS. How broad the ash his shadows flung,
How to the rock the rowan clung."

5 See Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.
• Slowhound.

7 The Tale of the Outlaw Murray, who held out Newark Castle and Ettrick Forest against the King, may be found in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. i. In the Macfarlane MS., among other causes of James the Fifth's charter to the burgh of Sel kirk, is mentioned, that the citizens assisted him to suppress this dangerous outlaw.

8 A seat of the Duke of Buccleuch on the Yarrow, in Et trick Forest. See Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel