In Katharine's aisle the monarch knelt,

To Lindesay did at length unfold
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt,

The tale his village host had told
And eyes with sorrow streaming

At Gifford, to his train.
Around him, in their stalls of state,

Nought of the palmer says he there,
The thistle's knight-companions sate,

And nought of Constance or of Clare:
Their banners o'er them beaming.

The thoughts which broke his sleep, he seems
I too was there, and, sooth to tell,

To mention but as feverish dreams.
Bedeafened with the jangling knell,

XIX.
Was watching where the sunbeams fell,

“ In vain,” said he, "to rest I spread
Through the stained casement gleaming;
But, while I marked what next befell,

My burning limbs, and couched my head:

Fantastic thoughts returned;
It seemed as I were dreaming.

And, by their wild dominion led,
Stepped from the crowd a ghostly wight,

My heart within me burned.
In azure gown, with cincture white,

So sore was the delirious goad,
His
forehead bald, his head was bare,

I took my steed, and forth I rode,
Down hung at length his yellow hair. -

And, as the moon shone bright and cold,
Now mock me not when, good my lord,

Soon reached the camp upon the wold.
I pledge to you my knightly-word,

The southern entrance 1 past through,
That, when I saw his
placid grace,

And halted, and my bugle blew.
His simple majesty of face,

Methought an answer met my ear,--
His solemn bearing, and his pace

Yet was the blast so low and drear,
So stately gliding on, -

So hollow, and so faintly blown,
Seemed to me ne'er did limner paint

It might be echo of my own.
So just an image of the saint
Who propped the virgin in her faint, —

XX.
The loved apostle John.

“ Thus judging, for a little space

I listened, ere I left the place;
XVII.

But scarce could trust my eyes,
« He stepped before the monarch's chair,

Nor yet can think they served me true,
And stood with rustic plainness there,

When sudden in the ring I view,
And little reverence made;

In form distinct of shape and hue,
Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent,

A mounted champion rise.-
But on the desk bis arm he leant,

I've fought, lord lion, many a day,
And words like these he said,

In single fight and mixed affray,
In a low voice,-but never tone

And ever, I myself may say,
So thrilled through vein, and nerve, and bone: - Have borne me as a knight;
My mother sent me from afar,

But when this unexpected foe
Sir king, to warn thee not to war, —

Seemed starting from the gulf below,-
Wo waits on thine array,

1 care not though the truth 1 show,
If war thou wilt, of woman fair,

I trembled with affright;
Her witching wiles and wanton snare,

And as I placed in rest my spear,
James Stuart, doubly warned, beware:

My hand so shook for very fear,
God keep thee as he may!

1 scarce could couch it right.
The wondering monarch seemed to seek

XXI.
For answer, and found none;

“Why need my tongue the issue tell?
And when he raised his head to speak,
The monitor was gone.

We ran our course,-my charger fell;

What could he 'gainst the shock of hell?
The marshal and myself had cast

I rolled upon the plain.
To stop him as he outward past;
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast

High o'er my head, with threatening hand,
He vanished from our eyes,

The spectre shook his naked brand, -
Like sunbeam on the billow cast,

Yet did the worst remain:
That glances but, and dies.”-

My dazzled eyes I upward cast,

Not opening hell itself could blast
XVIII.

Their sight like what I saw!
While Lindesay told this marvel strange,

Full on his face the moonbeam strook -
The twilight was so pale,

A face could never be mistook!
He marked not Marmion's colour change,

I knew the stern vindictive look,
While listening to the tale:

And held my breath for awe.
But, after a suspended pause,

I saw the face of one who, fled
The baron spoke :-"Of nature's laws

To foreign climes, has long been dead,-
So strong I held the force,

I well believe the last;
That never
super-human cause

For ne'er, from visor raised, did stare
Could e'er control their course;

A human warrior, with a glare
And, three days since, had judged your aim

So grimly and so ghast.
Was but to make your guest your game.

Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade :
But I have seen, since past the Tweed,

But when to good saint George I prayed, What much has changed my sceptic creed,

(The first time e'er I asked his aid,
And made me credit aught."--He staid,

He plunged it in the sheath;
And seemed to wish his words unsaid:

And, on his courser mounting light,
But, by that strong emotion pressed,

He seemed to vanish from my sight:
Which prompts us to unload our breast,

The moonbeam drooped, and deepest night
Even when discovery's pain,

Sunk down upon the heath.

Twere long to tell what cause I have To me they make a heavy moan

To know his face that met me there, Of early friendships past and gone.
Called by his hatred from the grave,

XXV.
To cumber upper air;

But different far the change has been,
Dead or alive, good cause had he

Since Marmion, from the crown
To be my mortal enemy.”-

Of Blackford, saw that martial scene
XXII.

Upon the bent so brown:
Marvelled sir David of the mount;

Thousand pavilions, white as snow, Then, learned in story, 'gan recount

Spread all the Borough-moor below, 10 Such chance had hap'd of old,

Upland, and dale, and down: When once, near Norham, there did fight

A thousand did I say? I ween,

Thousands on thousands there were seen,
A spectre fell, of fiendish might,
In likeness of a Scottish knight,

That chequered all the heath between
With Brian Bulmer bold,

The streamlet and the town: And trained him nigh to disallow

In crossing ranks extending far, The aid of bis baptismal vow.

Forming a camp irregular; “And such a phantom too, 'tis said,

Oft giving way where still there stood With highland broad-sword, targe, and plaid,

Some relics of the old oak wood, And fingers red with gore,

That darkly huge did intervene, Is seen in Rothiemurchus' glade,

And tamed the glaring white with green: Or where the sable pine-trees shade

In these extended lines there lay Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid,

A martial kingdom's vast array. Dromouchty, or Glenmore.*

XXVI. And yet, what'er such legends say,

For from Hebudes, dark with rain, Of warlike demon, host, or fay,

To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, On mountain, moor, or plain,

And from the southern Redswire edge Spotless in faith, in bosom bold,

To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge; True son of chivalry should hold

From west to east, from south to north, These midnight terrors vain;

Scotland sent all her warriors forth. For seldom have such spirits power

Marmion might hear the mingled hum To harm, save in the evil hour,

Of myriads up the mountain come; When guilt we meditate within,

The horses' tramp, and tingling clank Or harbour unrepented sin.”

Where chiefs reviewed their vassal rank, Lord Marmion turned him half aside,

And charger's shrilling neigh; And twice to clear his voice he tried,

And see the shifting lines advance, Then pressed sir David's hand,

While frequent flashed, from shield and lance, But nought, at length, in answer said;

The sun's reflected ray. And here their farther converse staid,

XXVII. Each ordering that his band

Thin curling in the morning air, Should bowne them with the rising day,

The wreathes of falling smoke declare To Scotland's camp to take their way,–

To embers now the brands decayed,
Such was the king's command.

Where the night-watch their fires had made.
XXIII.

They saw, slow rolling on the plain,
Early they took Dun-Edin's road,

Full many a baggage-cart and wain, And I could trace each step they trode;

And dire artillery's clumsy car, Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone,

By sluggish oxen tugged to war; Lies on the path to me unknown.

And there were Borthwick's sisters seven, Much might it boast of storied lore;

And culverins which France had given. But, passing such digression o'er,

Ill-omened gift! the Suffice it that their route was laid

The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. Across the furzy hills of Braid.

XXVIII. They passed the glen and scanty rill,

Nor marked they less, where in the air And climbed the opposing bank, until

A thousand streamers flaunted fair;
They gained the top of Blackford Hill.

Various in shape, device, and hue,
XXIV.

Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue,
Blackford! on whose uncultured breast,

Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square, Among the broom, and thorn, and whin,

Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol,t there A truant-boy, I sought the nest,

O’er the pavilions flew.ll Or listed, as 1 lay at rest,

Highest and midmost, was descried While rose, on breezes thin,

The royal banner floating wide; The murmur of the city crowd,

The staff a pine-tree strong and straight, And, from his steeple jangling loud,

Pitched deeply in a massive stone, Saint Giles's mingling din

Which still in memory is shown, Now, from the summit of the plain,

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight, Waves all the hill with yellow grain;

Whene'er the western wind unrolled, And, o'er the landscape as I look,

With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, Nought do I see unchanged remain,

And gave to view the dazzling field, Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook:

Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield,

The ruddy lion ramped in gold.iž
See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spectre Seven culverins, so called, cast by one Borthwick.
called Lham-dearg, or Bloody-band, in note 8, on canto + Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the differem
III.

rank of those entitled to display them.

guns remain

XXIX.

And thus the lion spoke:Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright, “ Thus clamoured still the war-notes when He viewed it with a chief's delight,

The king to mass his way has ta’en, Until within him burned his heart,

Or to St. Chatherine's of Sienne, And lightning from his eye did part,

Or chapel of St. Rocque. As on the battle-day;

To you they speak of martial fame; Such glance did falcon never dart,

But me remind of peaceful game, When stooping on his prey.

When blither was their cheer, « Oh! well, lord-lion, hast thou said,

Thrilling in Falkland woods the air, Thy king from warfare to dissuade

In signal none his steed should spare, Were but a vain essay;

But strive which foremost might repair For, by St. George, were that host mine,

To the downfall of the deer. Not power infernal, nor divine,

XXXII. Should once to peace my soul incline,

“Nor less," he said, -—" when looking forth, Till I had dimmed their armour's shine In glorious battle-fray!"

1 view yon empress of the north Answered the bard, of milder mood:

Sit on her hilly throne; “ Fair is the sight,--and yet 'twere good,

Her palace's imperial bowers, That kings would think withal,

Her castle, proof to hostile powers,

Her stately halls and holy towers-
When peace and wealth their land has blessed,
Tis better to sit still at rest,

Nor less,” he said, “1 moan

To think what wo mischance may bring,
Than rise, perchance to fall.”

And how these merry bells may ring
XXX.

The death dirge of our gallant king;
Still on the spot lord Marmion stayed,

Or, with their larum, call For fairer scene he ne'er surveyed.

The burghers forth to watch and ward, When sated with the martial show

'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard That peopled all the plain below,

Dun-Edin's leaguered wall. The wandering eye could o'er it go,

But not for my presaging thought, And mark the distant city glow

Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought! With gloomy splendour red;

Lord Marmion, I say nay For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, God is the guider of the field, That round her sable turrets flow,

He breaks the champion's spear and shield, The morning beams were shed,

But thou thyself shalt say, And tinged them with a lustre proud, When joins yon host in deadly stowre, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. That England's dames must weep in bower, Such dasky grandeur clothed the height,

Her monks the death-mass sing; Where the huge castle holds its state,

For never saw'st thou such a power And all the steep slope down,

Led on by such a king." Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,

And now, down winding to the plain, Piled deep and massy, close and high,

The barriers of the camp they gain, Mine own romantic town!

And there they make a stay.-Bat northward far, with purer blaze,

There stays the minstrel, till he fing On Ochil mountains fell the rays,

His hand o'er every border string, And, as each heathy top they kissed,

And fit his harp the pomp to sing It gleamed a purple amethyst.

Of Scotland's ancient court and king, fonder the shores of Fife you saw;

In the succeeding lay.
Here Preston-bay, and Berwick-law;
And, broad between them rolled,

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO V.
The gallant Frith the eye might note,
Whose islands on its bosom float

TO GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. Like emeralds chased in gold.

Edinburgh Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent;

When dark December glooms the day,
As if to give his rapture vent,

And takes our autumn joys away;
The spur he to his charger lent,
And raised his bridal-hand,

When short and scant the sunbeam throws,
And, making demi-vault in air,

Upon the weary waste of snows,
Cried, “Where's the coward that would not dare Like patron on a needy bard;

A cold and protitless regard,
To fight for such a land!”
The lion smiled his joy to see;

When sylvan occupation's done,

And o'er the chimney rests the gun,
Nor Marmión's frown repressed his glee.

And hang, in idle trophy, near,
XXXI.

The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear;
Thus while they looked, a flourish proud, When wiry terrier, rough and grim,
Where mingled trump and clarion loud,

And greyhound, with his length of limb, And fife, and kettle-drum,

And pointer, now employed no more, And sackbut deep, and psaltery,

Cumber our parlour's narrow floor; And war-pipe with discordant cry,

When in his stall the impatient steed And cymbal clattering to the sky,

Is long condemned to rest and feed; Making wild music bold and high,

When from our snow-encircled home, Did up the mountain come;

Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, The whilst the bells, with distant chime, Since path is none, save that to bring Merrily tolled the hour of prime,

The needful water from the spring;

When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, So thou, fair city! disarrayed
Beguiles the dreary hour no more,

Of battled wall, and rampart's aid,
And darkling politician, crossed,

As stately seem'st, but lovelier far Inveighs against the lingering post,

Than in that panoply of war. And answering housewife sore complains Nor deem that froni thy fenceless throne Of carrier's snow-impeded wains:

Strength and security are flown; When such the country cheer, I come,

Still, as of yore, queen of the north! Well pleased, to seek our city bome;

Still canst thou send thy children forth. For converse, and for books to change

Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call The forest's melancholy range,

Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, And welcome, with renewed delight,

Than now, in danger, shall be thine, The busy day and social night.

Thy dauntless voluntary line; Not here need my desponding rhyme

For fosse and turret proud to stand, Lament the ravages of time,

Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. As erst by Newark's riven towers,

Thy thousands, trained to martial toil, And Ettrick stripped of forest bowers. *

Full red would stain their native soil, True,-Caledonia's queen is changed,

Ere from thy mural crown there fell Since, ou her dusky summit ranged,

The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. Within its steepy limits pent,

And if it come,-as come it may, By bulwark, line, and battlement,

Dun-Edin! that eventful day, And flanking towers, and laky flood,

Renowned for hospitable deed, Guarded and garrisoned she stood,

That virtue much with heaven may plead, Denying entrance or resort,

In patriarchal times whose care Save at each tall embattled port;

Descending angels deigned to share; Above whose arch, suspended, hung

That claim may wrestle blessings down Portcullis spiked with iron prong.

On those who fight for the good town, That long is gone,--but not so long,

Destined in every age to be Since, early closed, and opening late,

Refuge of injured royalty; Jealous revolved the studded gate,

Since first, when conquering York arose, Whose task, from eve to morning tide,

To Henry meek she gave repose, 3 A wicket churlishly supplied.

Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow,

Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. Dun-Edin! O, how altered now,

Truce to these thoughts !--for, as they rise, When safe amid thy mountain court

How gladly I avert mine eyes, Thou sit’st, like empress at her sport,

Bodings, or true or false, to change, And, liberal, unconfined, and free,

For fiction's fair romantic range, Flinging thy white arms to the sea,2

Or for tradition's dubious light, For thy dark cloud with unbered lower,

That hovers 'twixt the day and night: That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower,

Dazzling alternately and dim, Thou gleam'st against the western ray

Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, Ten thousand lines of brighter day.

Knights, squires, and lovely dames to see, Not she, the championess of old,

Creation of my fantasy, In Spenser's magic tale enrolled,

Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, She for the charmed spear renowned,

And make of mists invading men.Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,

Who loves not more the night of June Not she more changed, when placed at rest,

Than dull December's gloomy noon! What time she was Malbecco's guest,+

The moonlight than the fog of frost? She gave to flow her maiden vest;

And can we say, which cheats the most? When from the corslet's grasp relieved,

But who shall teach my harp to gain Free to the sight her bosom heaved;

A sound of the romantic strain, Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile,

Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere Erst hidden by the aventayle;

Could win the royal Henry's ear, And down her shoulders graceful rolled

Famed Beauclerc called, for that he loved Her locks profuse, of paly gold.

The minstrel, and his lay approved? They who whilome, in midnight fight,

Who shall these lingering notes redeem, Had marvelled at her matchless might,

Decaying on oblivion's stream; No less her maiden charms approved,

Such notes as from the Breton tongue But looking liked, and liking loved. €

Marie translated, Blondel sung?The sight could jealous pangs beguile,

O! born, time's ravage to repair, And charm Malbecco's cares awhile;

And make the dying muse thy care; And he, the wandering squire of dames,

Who, when his scythe her hoary foe Forgot his Columbella's claims,

Was poising for the final blow, And passion, erst unknown, could gain

The weapon from his hand could wring The breast of blunt sir Satyrane;

And break his glass, and shear his wings Nor durst light Paridel advance,

And bid, reviving in his strain, Bold as he was, a looser glance.

The gentle poet live again; She charmed, at once, and tamed the heart,

Thou, who canst give to lightest lay Incomparable Britomarte!

An unpedantic moral gay,

Nor less the dullest theme bid flit . See Introduction to Canto II. See “The Fairy Queen,” Book III, Canto IX.

On wings of unexpected wit; 1“ For every one her liked, and every one her loved." In letters, as is like, approved,

Spencer, as above. Example bonoured and beloved,