THE WORKS

OF

WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. EmNBUROH: Printed by James Ballantyne & Co. THE WORKS

OF

.1:,.., WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. ~

VOLUME FIFTH,

CONTAINING

MARMION; A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELO.

EDINBURGH:

pal.TaD .oa LONGMAN AHb CO. WILLLUI MILLU, AND JOHlJ KURJlAY, LOHDON; AND ~a CONSTABLB AND CO. AND JOHlJ BALLANTYNE AlID CO. EDINBURGH.

1815. MARMION.

IN SIX CANTOS. TO • THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

HENRY,

LORD MONT AGU,

~c. ~c. ~c.

THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED

BY

THE AUTHOR. ADVERTISEMENT.

IT u hardly to be expected, that an Author, whom the Public hal ',onoured with lome degree qf applaule, lhould not be again a trupauer on their lcindnell. Yet the Author qf MAJU4ION mUll be IUppOled to fee/lome an.riety concern­ ing itl IUCcell, mace he u lenlible that he hazardl, by tMI lecond intrulion, any reputation which hil fir&t Poem ma!J hatle procured him. The prelent Story tvmIupon the pritlate adtlenturel of a jictitiotu cllaracter; but u called a Tale qf Flodden Field, becaUlt: the lJero', fate i" connected with that memorable defeat, and the catuel which led to it. TIle duign qfthe Author WtU, ifpo"ible, to apprize hil readerl, o.t the outlet, of the do.te ofhil Story, and to prepare them for the 77I(Innm qf the Age in whicll it i" laid. An!J HUlo­ rical narralit1e, far more an attempt aI Epic compOlition, ercuded hi" plan qf a Romantic· Tale; !Jet he ma,y be per­ nUtted to hope, from the popularity of THE LAy OF THE Lo\ST MINSTREL, that an altempt to paint the mannerl qf the feudal timel, upon a broader leale, and in the COUTIe qf a more intereltirag Itory, will '/Wt be unacceptable to the Public.

The Poem opens about the commencement ofAugtut, and concludel with the dqeat qfFlodden, 9tl, September~ 1513. CONTENTS.

PAO. 1rtInIdlIdiOli '0 Cnto I .. To WILLUM STBWART ROIB, Eaq. 1 CANTO I. TaB CASTLB, ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• II IIlfrodtIefioIa '0 C4IIIo II•• To the Rey. JOHR MARRlOT, M.A. M' II. THIl CoRYIlIIT, •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• '15 IIfff'otlwfiorI '0 Calo Ill. To WILLIAII ERSIURIl, !'.sq•••• 115 m THII HO'TIlL, OR III", ••••••••••••••••••••••••• 131 IlIfnIdtIdiOll '0 Cafo lY• . To JAMIlI Sun, Eeq••••••• 169 IV. THIl CAli., •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 1~ InfnldvdiOll '0 Cafo Y• •• To allORGIl ELLIS, Eaq•••••• ItS V. Tall COURT, ••••••••••••••••••••• .: •••••••••••139 IIIfrodIu:'ioli '0 CaN YI• • To RICHARD HIlBIlR, Elq•••• m VI. TaB BATTLB, •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 313

N.tf!ll to Cafo Yd, ••••••••••••••••••.••••••••••• i C"'o Secoad :J[Djji CmlIo Tlrinl •••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Iy C_. F...,.,•••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Illy Cafo Ytflla • •••••••••••••••••••••••••• IDIIl (::aIo SizI...... •.•.•...•...... •.. • • ci MARMION. TO

WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, ESQ.

NOVEMBEB'SSky is chill and dI'e8t, November's leaf is red and sear: ute, gazing doWn the .steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in itI dark and narrow glen,

You scan:e the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled green-wood grew, So feeble trilled the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, &:00 frequent seen

Through buab and brier, DO loager greeD, Ai • INTRODUCTION An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, fOllIDing brown with doubled speed, .. Hurries its waters to the Tweed.

No longer Autumn's glowing red Upon our.Forest hills is shea; No more, beneath the evening beam, Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pused the heather-bell,

That bloomed 110 rich on N eedpath-fell ;

Sallow his ,brqw, and I'Ull8et bare

Are DOW the sister-heights of Yare. The sheep, befQre the.pin('hing heaven,

To sheltered ~e IPld down are driven, Where yet some faded herbege pines, And yet a watery sun-beam shines : In meek despondency they· eye

The withered sward agd wintry sky, TO CANTO FIR8T. 5

And far beneath their IUJDm~r hill, Stray sadly by Gleokinooo's rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold, And wraps him closer from the cold;

His dogs DO merry circles wheel, But, shivering, follow at his heel ; A cowering ~e they often cast,

.AB deeper IDOUII the gathering blast.

My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild, As best befits the mountain child, Feel the sad influence of the hour, And wail the daisy's vanished Sower; Their 8U1D1Der gamhols tell, and mourn, And anxious uk,-Will spring return, And birds aod lambs again be gay, And blOll8ODlS clothe the hawthorn spray?

Yell, prattlers, yes. The daisy's tlower Again shall paiut your IIUmmer bower; , INTBODucnON

Again the hawthorn shall supply .

The garlands you delight to tie; The lambs upon the lea shall bound~ The wild birda carol to the roeod~ And while you frolic light as they ~ Too short shall aeem the sUlQlDer day.

To mute eod to material tbiDp New life revolving summer brings; The geoial c:all dead ,Nature hears, And in her glory re-appean. But Oh! my «;ouotry's wiotry staCe What secood sprWg shall renovate? ,What }>(?werful call shall bid ariae 'The burie~ warlike, and the wise; The mind, that thought for Britain's weal, The bawl, that grasped the victor steel?

The vernal SUD new life bestows

Even QO the IIleaIIe8t ~qwer that blows; TO CANTO PIBI'I'. 7

But vainly, ...,., 11181 be aIUae,

Where Glory weeps o'er N Jl.L80N'. -..me ; And vainly pierce the solemn gloom,

That shrouds, 0 PITT, thy ba1lowed loah !

Deep graved in every BriIiah heart, o never let those. JUUIle8 depMt! Say to your lOos,-Lo, J.e his grave, Who victor died on Gadite wave; To him, as to the banaios levin, Short, bright, ~ coone wu given; Where'er his couatry's foes were found, Was beard the fated. thuder'. IlOEci,

Till bunt the bolt OB yoodel" shore, Rolled, blazed, destroyed,--MMl was uO more.

Nor moat ye less his pefisbeci worth, Who bade the conqueror go fGnII, And launched that tlnmderboIt Of war On Egypt, Hafnia,· Trafalgar;

• Copenbagen. s INTRODUCTION

Who, born to guide llUch high emprize, For Britain's weal was early wise :

Alu! to whom the Almighty gave, For Britain's sins, an early grave; His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, A bauble held the pride of power,

SPumed at the IOI'did lust of pelf, And eerved his Albion for herself ;' Who, when the frantic crowd amain Strained at subjection's bUl'llting reia, O'er their wild mood full conquest gained,

The pride, he would DOt cnub, restrained, Shewed their fierce zeal a worthier auue, And brought the freeman's arm.to aid the free­ inan's laws,

Had'at thou but lived, though strippedof power, A watchman on the lonely tower, Thy thrilling tnunp bad J'OUIIed the land, When fraud or danger were at hand ; TO CANTO FIRST. -9

By thee, as by the beacon-light, Our pilots bad kept course aright; As lOme proud column, though alone, Thy strength bad propp'd the tottering throne. Now is the stately column broke, The beacoD-ligbt is queoched in smoke, The trumpet's silver lOund is still, The warder silent on the hill !

Oh, think, bow to his latest day, When Death, just hoveriDg, claimed hi! prey, With Palinore's UDBItered mood, Fum at his cJanserous post be stood; . E.cb call for needful rest repelled, With dying band the rUdder held, Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, The steerage of the realm gave way ! Then, while on Britain's thousand plaios, One UDpolluted cburc:h remains, ­ Whose peaceful bella ne'er sent arouod The bloody tocsin's maddening .1IOUDd, 10 DiTllODUCTlON

But still, upon the hallowed day, Convoke the swains to pnise aod pray ; While faith and civil peace are dear, Grace this cold marble with a tear,-

He, who preserved them, PITT, lies "ere!

Nor yet suppress the generous lligh~ Because hi:I Rivals_hers nigta; ,. • Nor be thy requiercat dumb, Lest it be said o'er Fox'. tomb. For taloots mourn, untimely lollt,

When best employed, aDd 'WlBted most. Mourn genius high, aud lore profound,

And wit that lOved to play, not wouad; And all the reasoning powers diviDe~ To penetrate, resol~e, combine; And feelings keen, and fancy'. glow,­ They sleep with him who sleeps below: And, if thou mourn'st"tIIey coaId Dot save From error him who owns dai.s grave, Be every harsher thought suppresaed, ADd ,sacred be the last long rest. TO CANTO FIIl8T. 11

Here, where the end of earthly things Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kiogs;

Where stiff the hand1 and still the toogue, Of those who fought, and spoke, and snog ; Here, where the fretted aisles proloDK The distant DOtes of holy song, As if some angel spoke ageD,

All peace 00 earth, good-will to men; Ifever from an English heart, o here let prejudice depart, And, partial feeling cut aide, Record, that Fox a Briton died!

When Europe crouched to Fruce's yoke, And Austria bent, and Pruasia broke,

And the firm Russian's purpoIe brave Was bartered by a bmorou slave, Even then dillhonour's peace he spumed, The sullied olive-branch returned, Stood for biB country's glory fast, ADd IIliled her colour. to the milt. til INTRODUCTION

Heaven, to rewtrd his firmness, gave A portion in this honoured grave; And ne'er held marble in its trust Of two stich wonderous men the dust.

With more than mortal powers endowed, How high they soared above the crowd!

Theirs was DO common party race, . Jostling by dllrk intrigue for place ; Like fabled GodI, their miahty war Shook realms and nations in its jar ;

Beneath each banner proud to stand, Looked up the noblest of the land, Till through the British world were known

The names of PITT and Fox alone.

Spells of such force DO wizard grave E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, Though his could drain the ocean dry, And force the planets from the sky. These spells are spent, and, spent with these, The wine of life is on the lees. TO CANTO FIRST.

Geuiua, and taste, and talent gone, For ev~ tombed beneath the stone, Where,-taming thought to human pride!­ The mighty chiefs sleep side by Bide. Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 'Twill trickle to his rival's bier;

O'er PITT'S the mouroful requiem sound, And Fox's shall the notes rebound. The solemn echo seems to cry,- " Here let their discord with them die; " Speak not- for those a separate doom, " Whom Fate-made brothers in the tomb, " But search the land of living men, " Where wilt thou find their like agen r'

Rest, ardent Spiribl! till the cries Of dying Nature bid you rise ; Not even your Britain's groans can pierce The leaden silence of your hearse: Then, 0 how impotent and vain This grateful tributary strain! I.NTRODUCfION

Though not UIlDlarked from northern clime, Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme: His Gothic halp bas o'er you rung; The bard you deigned to praise, your deathless names has sung.

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, My wildered fancy still beguile! From this high theme how can I part, Ere half unloaded is my heart!

For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, And all the raptures faoc, bew, And all the keener rush of blood, That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, Were here a tribute mean and low,

Though all their mingled streams could 60w­ Woe, 'Wbnder, and sensation high,

In ODe sPring-tide of ecstaay,- It will not be-it may not last- The vision of enchantment's put: TO CANTO rmsT~

Like fr08t-work in the moming ny, The fancied fabric melts away; Each Gothic arch, memorial stone, And long, dim, lofty aisle, .are gone, And, lingering last, deception dear, The choir's high sounds die on my ear. Now slow return the lonely down, The silent pastures bleak and brown, The farm begirt wid! copse-wood wild, The gambols of each frolic child, Mixing their shrill cries with the tone

Of Tweed's dark waters rushing 00.

Prompt on unequal tasks to run, Thus N alure disciplines her lion: Meeter, she says, for me to stray, And waste the solitary day, In plucking from yon fen the reed, And watch it floating down the Tweed ; Or idly list the shrilling lay With which the milk-maid cheers her way, 16 INTRODUCTION

Marking its cadence rille and fail, As from the field, beneath her pail, She trips it down the uneven dale: Meeler for m.e, by yonder cairn, The ancient ahepherd's tale to learn, Though oft he stop in rustic fear, Lest his old legends tire the ear

Of ODe, who, in his simple mind, May boast of book-learned taate refined.

But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell,

(For few have read romance 80 well) How still the legendary lay O'er poet's bosom holds its sway; How on the ancient minstrel strain Time lays his palsied hand in vain; And how our hearts at doughty deeds, By warriors ,wrought in steely weeds, Still throb for fear and pity's sake ; As when the Champion of the Lake TO .CANTO, FIRST. 17

Enters Morgana's fated house, Or in the Chapel Perilous, Despising spells and demons' force, Holds converse with the unburied corse ;

Or when, Dame Ganore's grace to move, (Alas! that lawless was their love) He.sought proud Tarquin in his den, And freed full sixty knights; or when, A sinful man, and unconfessed, He took the Saogreal's holy quest, And, slumbering, saw the vision high, He might not view with waking eye.

The mightiest chiefs of British song Scorned not such legends to prolong : They gleam through Spenser's elfin dreaPl, And mix in Milton's heavenly theme; And Dryden, in immortal strain, Had raised the Table ROJjnd again,

R INTRODUCTION

But that a ribald king and court

Bade him toil on, to make them sport; Demanded for their niggard pay, Fit for their souls, a lOOler lay, Licentious satire, song, and play: The world defrauded of the high desiga, Propbaoed the God-giYen streagth, aad marred the lofty line.

Warmed by such names, well may we the.,

Though dwindled IlODII of little men, Essay to break a feeble lance In the fair fields of old romance; Or seek the rnoated castle's cell, Where long through talisman and spell, While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, Thy Genius, Chivalry, bath slept: There sound th~ harpiogs of the North, Till he awake and sally forth, TO CANTO I'IRST. 19

00 VenturOUI qUest to pric:k agaiD~

In all his 8J'IIIII, with all his train, Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, aDd 1ICUf, Fay, Paut, dragoo, Illuire, and dwarf, And w~ with his waod of might, And errant maid on palfrey white. Around the Genius weave their lpeu.., Pure Love, who lCBJ'ee his puaioo tella ; Mystery, half veiled and half revealed; And Honour, with his spotleaa shield; Attention, with fixed eye; and Fear,

That l«;)ves the tale abe shrinks to hear ; And gentle Courtesy; and Faith, Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; And Valour, lioo-metded lord, laning upon his own good sword.

Well has thy fair achievement shown, A worthy meed may thus be won;

Btl INTIlODUcnON, &e.

Yteoe's· oaks-beneath whose shade Their theme the meny minstrels made,. Of Aecapart, and Bevis bold, And that Red Kiug,t -who, wbile of old,. Through Boldrewood the cbue he led, By his loved huntsman's arrow bled­ Ytene's oaks have heard again Renewed such legendary strain; For thou bast sung, how He of Gaul,

That Amadis 80 famed in hall, For Oriana, foiled in fight The Necromancer's felon might; And well in modem verBe hast wove Partenopex's mystic love: Hear then, attentive to my lay, A knightly tale of Albion's elder day.

• The New Forest ia Hamplbire, aac:ialtl11O CIIIIeL t William Rafaa.

t:ooglc MARMION..

CANTO PIRST. MARMION.

CANTO l'fRIT.

I.

DAY let on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone: 'The battled lowen, the Donjon Keep, 'The loop-hole grates where captives weep, The Banking wal~ that round it sweep, In yellow lu.stre ahone. MARMION. Col.TO I.

The warriors on the turrets high, Moving athwart the evening sky, Seemed forms of giant height: Their armour, as it 'caugbtthe rays, Flashed back again the western blaze, In lines of dazzling light.

II.

St. George's bannera broad and gay, Now faded, as the fadirig ray Less bright, and less, was flung ; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the Donjon tower, So heavily it hUng. The scouts had parted on their search, The castle gates were barr'd; Above the gloomy portal arch, Timing his footsteps to a march, The warder kept his guard; Low humming, as he paced along, Some ancient Border gathering-song. ~'L THE .. CA.m.E.

UI. A distant trampling -sound he bean ;

He looks abroad, and SOOD. appears, O'er Homcliff-hill, a plump" oLspears, Beneath a pennon gay ; A horseman darting fromthecro\'Yd, Like lightning from a summer cloud, Spurs on his mettled·couner proQd, Before the dark array. Beneath the sable palisade, That closed the castle blU'J"icade, His bugle-hom he blew; The Warder hasted from the wall, And warned the Captain. ill the hall, .For well the blast he knew; And joyfully that Knight·did call, To sewer, squire, and seneschal.

• This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl; but • applied, by lDlI1ogy,'to a body of bone. There 11 a KDigbt of the North Coontry, Which leads a llilty ,..." of spean. Floddla FVU.

• KAUION. CA.1ITe I,

IV.

U Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, Bring puties of tbe doe, And quickly make the enU'I8c:e free, And bid my heralds ready be, And every minstrel sound hie glee, And all our trumpets blow; And, from the platform, spare ye not To fire a noble salvo-shot: Lord Marmion waits below!'­ Then to the Castle's lower ward Sped forty yeomen taU, The iron-studded gates unbarred, Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, The lofty palisade UDSparred, And let the draw-bridge fall•.

V. Along the bridge Lord Marmion rOde, Proudly his red-roan charger trod,

• CAII1'O t. ft·

His helm hung at the saddle-bow; WeD, by his visage, you might know He was a stalwortb bright, and keen, And bad in many a battle been; The scar on his brown cheek revealed A token true of Bosworth field; His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire, Shewed spirit proud, and prompt to ire ; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek, Did deep design and com1 speak. His forehead, by his casque worn bare, His thick moustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, lind grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turned joints, and strength of limb, Shewed him no carpet-knight so trim, But, in close fight, a champion grim, In camps, a leader sage.

.. IIAlUIION. c:.l1l'l'O I.

VI. Well armed was he from head to heel, In mail, and plate, of Milan steel; But his strong helm, of mighty cost, Was aU with bumish'd gold emboss'd; Amid the plumage of the crest, A falcon hovered on her nest, With wings outspread, and forward breaat ; E'en such a falcon, on his shield, Soared sable in an azure field : The golden legend bore aright,

" JDbo tbedl_ at me, to beatb i_ biot.H Blue was the charger's broidered rein ; Blue ribbons decked his arching mane ; The knightly housing's ample fold Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold.

VU. Behind him rode two gallant squires, Of noble name, and knightly sires ; THE'CA8'I'I1

They burned the gilded spurs to claim; For well could each a war-hone tame, Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, And lighdy bear the'ring aWay; Nor less with courteous precepts stored, Could dance in hall, and' carve at' board, And frame love-ditties passing rare, ADd siag them to a lady fair;

VIII. Four men-at-arms Came at their bacb, With halbert, bill, and batde-ue: They bore Lord Marmioo'slance 10 itro~ And led his sumpter moles along,

And ambling palfrey, when at need Him listed ease his batde-steed. The last, and trustiest of the four, 00 high his forked pennon bore; Like swallow's tail, in shape and,bue, Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, MARMION." CA1I'IO I.

Where, blazooed ..ble, u before,

The towering falcon eeemed to 8Oar. Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, In hosen black, and jerkius blue, With falcons broider'd on each breast, Attended on their lord'. behelt Each, chosen for an archer good, Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood ; Each one a SUt-foot bow could bend, And far a cloth-yard shaft could send; Each held a boar-apear tough and strong, Anti at their belts their quivers nang. Their dU8ty palfreys, and array, Shewed they had marched a weary way.

IX. 'TIS meet that I should tell, you now, How fairly armed, and ordered how, The soldiers of the guard,

j Coogle C,tKTO J. THE CASTLE. '1

With musquet, pike, and morioo, To welcome noble Marmion, Stood in the Cutle-yard ;

Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his lil18tock yare, For welcome-shot prepared :- Entered the train, and such a dug, .As then through all his tWTets rang, Old Norham never beard.

x. The guards their morrice-pikes adV8Ilced, The trumpets ftourished brave, .The cannon from the ramparts glanced, And thundering welcome gave. A blythe salute, in martial IOrt, The minstrels well might lOund,

For, 88 Lord Marmion croued the court, He scattered angels round. 32 MARMION.

II Welcome to Norham, Marmion! Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land !"-

XI. Two pursuivants,. whom tabarts deck, With silver scutcheon round their neck, Stood on the steps of atone, By which you reach the Donjon gate, And there, with herald pomp and state, Tht.~ hailed Lord Marmion: They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; And be, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight, All as he lighted down. "..11'10 t. THE CASTLE.

" Now largesse, largeoe,· L>rd Mal'lllion, Knight of the crest of gold I A blazon'd shield, in battle won, Ne'er guarded heart so bold."-

XII.

They marshalI'd him to the castle-haU, Where the gueats stood all aside, ADd loudly flourished the trumpet-caU, And the heralds loudly cried,-

II Room, lordinga, room for Lord Mar.mion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold : There, vainly, Ralph de Wilton strove 'Gainst Marmioo's force to stand ; To him he lost his ladye-love, And to the king his land.

• '11Je cry by which the benlm elIpreased their thank. for the bouDty ofthe Doblet. c c.ulYO I.

Ourselves bebeld the listed field, A sight both sad. and fair ; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield" And saw his saddle bare; We saw the victor win the crest, He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquered in the right,.. Marmion of Fontenaye !"-

XIII. Then stepped to meet that noble lord Sir Hugh the Heron bold, Baron ofTwiseU, and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold. He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Raised o'et the pavement high, THE CASTLE. S5

And placed him in the upper place­ They feasted full and high: The whiles a Northern harper rude Chaunted a rhyme of deadly feud, " HOfI) thefierce Thi1TJJalh, and Ridleys all, Stout WillimtmdrlfJick, And Hard-riding Dick,

And Hughie of HarMon, and Will 0' the Wall, Ha'De let on Sir Alha7I!J Feather.tonhaugh, And taken hi& life at the Deadman'S-Ihaw."_· Scantly lArd Marmion's ear could brook The harper's barbarous lay; Yet much he praised the pains he to~k, And well those pains did pay: 'For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, By knight should ne'er be heard in vain.

XIV.

II Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says,

II Of your fair courtesY,

• The rat of this old baUad may be found in tbe Dott'. c 2 36 IlARMION. c.lW'l'O r.

I pray you bide some little space, In this poor tower with me. Here may you keep your arms from nJ8t, May breathe your war-horse well ; Seldom hath pus'd a week but giost Or feat of arms hefel : The Scots can rem a mettled steed,

ADd love to couch a spear;­ St. George! a stirring life they lead, That have such neighboun near. Th~ 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.

xv. The Captain marked his altered look, And gave a squire the sign; A mighty wassell bowl he took, And crown'd it high with wiDe. THE CASTLE. til

4' Now pledge me here, lArd Marmioa.: But first I pray thee fair, Where hast thou left that page of thiDe,

That U8ed to Ilerve thy cup of wine,

WhOlle beauty was 80 rare? When last in Raby tOwers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often' marked his cheeks were wet With tears be fain would hide: His was no rugged horse-hoy's band, To IJumish shield, or sharpen brand, Or llBddle battle-steed ; But meeter seemed for lady fair, To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, Or through embroidery, rich aod 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! MARMlON. CAJn'O I.

Say, ha.'lt thou given that lovely youth To serve in lady's bowed Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paramour ?"-

XVI. Lord Marmion ill could brook S1!~ jest ; He roDed his kindling eye, With pain his rising wrath suppressed, Yet made a calm reply: "That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, He might not brook the northern air. More ofhis fate if thou would'st learn, I left him sick in Lindisfam ; Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, Why does thy lovely lady gay Disdain to grace the hall to-day?

Or has that dame, 80 fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage t'- THE CASTLE.

He spoke in covert scom, for fame Whispered light tales of Heron's dame••

XVII. Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, Careless the Knight replied, " No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt,

Delights in cage to bide: N orham is grim, and grated close, Hemmed in by battlement and fosse, And many a darksome tower; And better loves my lady bright, To sit in liberty and light, In fair Queen Margaret's bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove;

But where shall we find leash or band, For'dame that loves t<;> rove? Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She'll stoop when she has tired her wing."- HAIlIlIO!l'. M.-N ••

XVIU. " Nay, .if with Doyal Jem•• bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a metllEfJler, Your tegder greetiogs prompt to bear ; For, to the Scottiah court addreaed, I journey at our ki.... bebeat, And pray you, ofyour grace, provide For me, and mine, a trusty guide. I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed the cause of that mock prinee, Warbeck, that F1emiah counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. Then did I march with Surrey's power, What time we razed old Ayton tower."-

XIX. " For such like aeed, my lord, I trow, Norbam can find you pidee eaow;

j Coogle THE CASTLE.

For here be lOme have pricked u far 00 Scottish grouod, u to Dunbar; Have dnmk the moob of SL Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, And given them light to IIet their hoods."-

xx. "Now, in good sooth," Lord Mannion cried, " Were I in warlike-wile to ride, A better guard I would not lack, Than your stout fonyer'l 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 mUltering troops for war,

The sight of plundering Border Spearl Might justify 8UBpicious fears, And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, Break out in some ~mly broil : MARMION. CAtn'O J.

A berald were my fitting guide; 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 passed 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 be sat in Durham aisle, And prayed for our success the wbile. C"WTO I. THE CASTLE.

Our Norham vicar, woe, betide, Is all too well in case to ride. The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein The wildest war-hone in your train ;

But then, DO spearman in the hall Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. Friar Jobo of Tillmouth were the man,

A blythsome brother at the CaD, A welcome gaest in hall and bower, He knows each castle, town, and tower, In which the wine and ale is good, 'Twixt Neweastle and Holy-Rood. But that good mao, as ill befalls, Hath seldom left our castle walls, Since on the vigil of St. Bede, In evil hour he crossed the Tweed, To teach Dame Alison her creed. Old Bugbtrig found him with his wife; And John, an enemy to strife, Sans frock and hood Bed for his life. MAIlM10N. CAlIII'O I.

The jealous churl hath deeply swore, That, if again he ventures o'er,

He Iball sbrieve peniteot DO more. Little he loves IUch riaques, I know; Yet, in your guard, perchance will go."-

XXII. Youog Selby, at the fair ball-board

Carved to his uncle, and that lord, And reverently took: up the ""ord.

" Kind uncle, woe were we each ODe, If harm should hap to brother John. He is a man of mirthful speech, Can many a game and gambol teach; Full well at table. can he play, And sweep at bowls the ltake away• . None can a luatier carol bawl, The needfullest among us all, When time hangs heavy in the hall, e••TO I. THE CASTLE.

And snow comes thick: at Christmas tide, And we can neither hunt, nor ride A foray on the Scottish side. The vowed revenge of Bugbtrig rude, May end in worse than loss of bood. Let Friar John, in safety, still In cbimney-comer snore his 6tI, Roast hiIIsing crabs, or flagons swill : . Last night, to Norbam there came one, Will better guide Lord Marmion."-• " Nephew," quoth Heron, "by my fay, Well bast thou spoke; say forth thy say."-

XXIII. " Here is a holy Palmer co me, From Salem first, and last from Rome; One, that bath kissed the blessed tomb, And visited eacb holy shrine, In Araby and Palestine; MARMION. CAN'EO J.

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 wildeiness he saw The Mount, where Israel heard the law, Mid tJiunder-dint, and flashing levin, And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. He shews Saint James's cockle~ell,. Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell; And of that Grot where Olives nod, Where, darling of each heart and eye, From all the youth of Sicily,

Saint Rosalie retired to God.

XXIV.

Ie To stout S8int George of Norwi<:h merry, Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, For his sins' pardon hath he prayed. CAJllTO I. THE CASTLE. 47

He knows the passes of the North, And seeks far shrines beyond tbe Forth ; Little he eats, and long will wake, And drinks but of the stream or lake. This were a guide o'er moor and dale; But, when our J obn hath quaffed his ale, As little as the wind that blows, And warms itself against his nose, Kens he, or cares, which way he goes."-

xxv. " Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion, " Full loth were I tbat Friar J obn, That venerable man, for me, Were placed in fear or jeopardy. If this same Palmer will me lead From hence to Holy-Rood, Like bis good saint, I'll pay his meed, Instead of cockle-sbell, or bead, With angels fair and good. HAIlIrIION. U1ITO I.

I love SUM holy ramblen; still

They know to charm a weary hill, With sOIlg,' romaoc:e, or lay : Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,

Some lying legend at the leut, They bring to cheer the way."-

XXVI.

It Ah! DOble sir," young Selby aid, And finger on his lip he laid, " This man knows much, percbance e'en more Than be could learn by holy lore. Still to himself be's muttering, And shrinks as at some unseen thing. Last night we listened at bis cell ; Strange 80uads we heard, and sooth to teU, He murmured on till mom, bowe'er No living mortal could be near. Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, As other voices spoke apio. C.ul1'O r. THE CABTLB..

I cannot tell-I like it not­ Friar John bath told us it is wrote, No conscience clear, IIIld void of WI'ODI,

Can rest awake, IIIld pray 80 long. HimseJf still sleeps before his beads Have marked ten aves, IIIld two creeds."-

XXVII. " -Let pass," quoth Marmion; "by my fay, This mao shall guide me on my way, Although the great arch-.fiend IIIld be , Had sworn themaelve8 of company;

So please you, gentle youth, to call

This Palmer to the castle-ball."-:-

The 8UlDID0ned Palmer came in place;

His sable cowl 0'erbung his face ; In his black mantle wu be clad, With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, On hia broad ahouJdera wrolJlbt; MARMION. eA.,.. L

'The scallop shell his cap ditI deft J The crucifix arCMlBd hie IIedr Wu froID Lorette brought; His sandals were widt tnlvel tare, Staff, budget, botde, senp, he ware; The faded palm-branch in hit hand, Sbewed pilgrim from the Holy Land.

XXVIII. Whenas the PallISer came in haU,

Nor lord, nor ~ht, WII8 there 1IlM8 taU, Or had a statelier .p withal, Or looked more high and ben ; For no saluting did he wait, But strode acl'Oll8 the hal of state, And frooted Marmion where he sate, As he his peer Iuu:I beeo.

But his gauot frame WlIIl wem with toil ; His cheek was SUlIk, aIu the while 1 eAftO I.

And when be Itnuled at a JIOite, His eye looked ~wUd. Poor wretch! the tJiotIler that him bare, H she had been in pretence there, In bis wan face, and SUD-burned bair, Sbe had not known Iter child. Danger, long travel, want, or woe, Soon change the form that best we know­ For deadlly fear can time outgo, And blauncb at once the hair;

Hard toil caD roughen form and faee, And want can quench tile eye's bright grace, Nor does old age a wrinkle trace, More deeply than despair. Happy whom none of these be&J, But this poor Palmer knew them all.

XXIX. Lord MlU'OIion then his boon did ask ; The Palmer tOok on him the task,

• i MARMION•. ' GAIITO I.

So he would march with momiog tide, To Scottish court to be his guide.

-" But I have solemn vows to pay, And may not linger by the way, To fair Saint Andrew's bound, Within the ocean-cave to pray, Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, From midnight to the dawn of day, Sung to the billows' llOund; Thence to Saint FillaIi's -blessed well, Whose spring can. frenzied dreams dispel, And the crazed brain restore :- Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring Could back to peace my bollOm bring, Or bid it throb no more !"-

XXX. And now the midnight draught of sleep, Where wine and spices riebly steep,

" CA.TO I. THE CASTLE. 5.1 .

In IIWIive bowl of silver deep, 'The page presents on knee. Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, The Captain pledged his Doble guest, The cup went through among the rest, Who drained it merrily; Alone the Palmer passed it by, Though Selby pressed him -conrteoU8I,.

'This was the·sign the feast was o'er; It hU8hed the merry wassel roar, The minstrels ceased to sound. Soon in the castle nought 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; MARMION.

Then, after morning rites were done, (A hasty mass from Friar John,) And knight aud squire had broke their fast,. On rich substantial repast,

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to hone.

Then came the stirrop-cup in COW'Se ; Between the "Baron and his bOllt, No point of courtesy was lost: High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, Solemn excuse the Captain made, TiU, filing from the gate, had put That noble train, their Lord the lut. Then loudly nmg the trumpet-caIl ; 'I'hundered the cannon from the wail, And shook the Scottish shore; Around the castle eddied, slow,

Volumes of smoke 88 white as .1IDOW, And bid its turrets hoar; THE CASTLE.

• Till they rolled forth upon the air, And met the river breezes there, Which gave again the prospect fair.

END OP CANTO PIRST. MARMION. TO

THE REV. JOHN MARRIOT, M. A.

A,he"iel, Et~ke Fore...

THE scenes are desart IIOW Mid bwe, Where flourished once a forest fair, When these waste glens .....ith cOp&e were liaed, And peopled with the hart and hiod. Yon thorn-perchance whose prickly spears Have fenced him for three hundred years, While feU around his green compeer&­ Yon lonely thorn, would he could tell The changes of his parent dell, 60 INTRODUCTION

Since he, so grey 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 shewed 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, itt my shade," methinks he'd sa)', " The mighty stag at noontide lay: The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, (The neighbouring dingle bears his name,) With lurching step around me prowl, And stop against the moon to howl;

• MOUDtaiD-uh. TO CANTO SECOND. Gt,

The mountain boar, on battle set,

Ilia tuab upon my stem would whet; While doe and roe, and red-deer good, Have bounded by through gay green-wood. Then oft, from Newark's ~ven tower, Sallied a Scottish monarcb's power : A thoUSlllld vassals mUltered round, With bone, and hawk, and horn, aod hound;

And 1 might see the youth intent,

GUard every pa8II with cr088-bow bent ; And through the brake the rangers stalk, And falc'ners hold the ready bawk ; And foresters, in green-wood trim, Lead in the leash the gaze-hounds grim, Attentive, as the bratchet's· bay From the dark covert drove the prey, To slip them as be broke away. "The startled quarry bounds amain, As fast the gallant grey-bounds strain ;

• Slow-boaDd. lSf IN'l'RODUC'l'IOX

Whistles the arrow from the bow,

Answers the harquebuu below; While all the rocking hills repl" To hoof-dang, hound, and hunterll' cry. And bugles riogiag lightsomely."-

Of such proud huntioga, many tales Yet lioB- in our lonely dales, Up pathless Ettricke, and on Yarrow, Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. But not mora blythe that symm court, Than we "have beeP. at bumbler eport ; Thougb small our pomp, and mean our game, Our mi~, dear Marriot, was the same.

Remember'st thou my grey-bOUDds true ? O'er bolt, or hill, there never flew,

From slip, or leash, there neyer sprang,

More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. N or dull, between each merry ~~ ·Passed by the intermitted space ; TO

For e had fair r 10 Clas ie, and in Gothi I

r mar ed each m And held poetie talk be

or bill, nOf roo, But had i legend, All iJ nt no\ -for 0 or till Thy bowe , Dnt nant 'B hill ! o longer, from th mounta' duo, The 'eorn n bear th eU-knO\ n un,

And, hil bi h n t b rt glo " arm,

l thought of his pat mal Ii rm, Round to hi mat a brimm r flIJ ,

And drink, u o fair forms, in ers flo ers, Fair w,

y moonlight, dane 00 rt rllaugb; youthful bar oJ ft to e Tb orest·Sheriff's Ion Iy ehac ,

Coogle INTRODUCTION

.And ape, in manly step and tone, The majesty of Oberon: And she is gone, wh08e lovely face Is but her least and lowest grace ; Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere giv~n, To shew our earth the charms of heaven, She could not glide along the air, With form more light, or face more fair. No more the widow's deafened ear GroWl quick, that lady's step to hear : At noontide she expects her not,

Nor busies her to trim the cot ;

Pensive she turns her humming wheel, Or pensive cooks her orphan's meal; Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread, The gentle hand by which they're fed.

From Yair,-which hill so closely bind, Scarce can the Tweed his passage find, TO' CANTO SECOND.

Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, Till aUbis eddying currents boil,- Her loog-desceoded lord is gone, And left us by the stream alone. And much I miss those sportive beys, Companions of my mountainjoys, Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.

Close to my side,. with what delight, They pressed to hear of Wallace wight, When, pointing to bis airy mound, I called bis ramparts holy ground t· Kindled their brows to hear me speak; And I have SD)iled, to feel my chee~ Despite the difference of our years, Return again the glow of theirs. Ah, happy boys !such feelings pure, They will not, cannot long endure;

• There ii, on a high mouutlliDoDl ridge above the &rut of Albeetiel, a foue called Wallace's Trench.

E INTRODUCTION

Condemned to stem the world's rude tide, You may not linger by the side; For Fate shall,thrust you from the-shore, And Passion ply the sail aDd ow. Yet cherish the remembrance still, Of the lone mountain, and the rill; For trust, dear boys, the time will come, When fiercer transport shall be dumb, And you win think right frequently, But, well I hope, "'ithout a sigh, On the free hours that we have spent, Together, on the brown hill's beot.

When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone, Some~ing, my friend, we yet may gaio, There is a pleasure in this pain: It soothes the love of lonely rest, Deep in each gentler heart impressed. TO CANTO SECOND,

'TIS silent amid worldly toils, And stifted soon by mental broils ; But, .in a bosom thUJ prepared, . Its still small voice is often heard, Whispering a mingled IIentiment, 'Twixt resignation and cODteot. Oft in my mind such thoughta awake, By lone St. Mary's silent lake; Thou know'st it well,-nor fen, nor sedge, Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink; And jUllt a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meeta the land. Far in the mirror, bright and blue, Each hill's huge outline you may view; Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, Nor tree, nor bUllh, nor brake is there, Save where, of land, yon slender line Bears thwart the lake the scattered pine. E2 INTRODUCTION

Yet even this nakedness baa power, And aids the feeling of the hour: Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, Where living thing c:eocea1ed might lie ; Nor point, .retiring, bides a dell, Where swain, or wQOdman lone, might dwell; There's nothing left to fancy's guess, You see that all is loneliness:. And silence aids-though these steep hiHs Send to the lake a thousand rills ; In summer tide,. so soft they weep, The sound but lulls the ~ asleep ; Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, So stilly is the .solitude.

Nought living meets the eye or earr But well I ween the delld are near ; For though, in feudal strife, a foe Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low,. TO'CANTO SECOJlD. . 4J

Yet still, beoeaththe balJowed soil, The peasant res&l,bim from his toil, And, dying, bids his bones be laid, Where erst his simple fathers prayed.

If age had tamed tile pusiona' strife, And fate ,bad cut my ties to life, Here, have I thought, '&were sweet to dweU, And rear again the dJaplain's cell, Like that same peaceful hermitage, Where Milton longed to spend his age. 'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, 00 Bourhope's lonely top decay;

And, 88 i~ faint aDd 'feeble died, 00 the broad lake, and mountain's side,

To say, II Thus pleasures fade away; Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey;"­ Then gaze on Dryhope's mined tower, And think on Yarrow's faded Flower .: INTRODUCTION

And when that mountain-eoUDd I heard, Which bids us be for storm prepared, The distant rustling of his wings, ..& up his force the Tempest brings, 'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, To sit upon the Wizard's grave; That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust From company of holy dust; 00 which no sun-beam ever shines- (So superstition's creed divines,) Thence view the lake, with sullen roar, Heave her broad billows to the shore; And mark the wild swans mount the gale, Spread wide through mist their snowy sail,

And ever stoop again, to lave Their bosoms·on the surging wave: Then, when against the driving bail No longer might my plaid avail, Back to my lonely home retire, And light my lamp» and trioi my fire ~ TO CANTO SECOND. ,..

There ponder o'er some mJShc lay, Till the wild tale had all its sway, And, in the bittern's distaut shriek, I heard unearthly voices speak, And thought the Wizard Priest wu come, To claim again his ancient home I And bade my busy fancy rauge, To frame him nttiog shape and Btrange, Till from the" task my brow I cleared, And smiled to think that I bad feared.

But chief, 'twere sweet to think I~ch life, (Though but escape from fortune's strife,), Something mollt matcbless good, and wise, A great and grateful sacrifice ; And deem each hour, to musiDg give., A step upon the road to heaven.

Yet him, whOle heart is ill at ease, Such peaceful solitudes displease: INTIlODUenON

He loves to drowD hisbolOm's jar Amid the elemental war : And my black Palmer's choice had been Some ruder and more savage scene, Like that,which frowDS round dark Locbakene. There eagles scream from isle to shore; Down all the rocks the torrents roar ; O'er the black waves iDcessant driven, Dark mists infect the summer heaven; Through the rude barriers of the lake, Away its hurrying waters break, Faster and whiter dash and curl, Till down yon dark abyss they hurl. Rises the fog-smoke white as mow,

Thunders the viewless stream below, Diving, as if condemned to lave Some demon's subterranean cave, Who, prisoned by enchanter's speD, Shakes the dark !rock with groan and yell. TO CANTO SECOND. 7S

And well that Palmer's form and mieD Had suited with the stormy scene, Just on the edge, straining his ken To view the bottom of the den, Where,' deep deep do\VD, and far within, Toils with the rocks the roaring linn; Then, issuing forth one foamy wave, And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, White as the snowy charger's tail, Drives down the pus of Moffatdale.

Marciol, thy harp, on Isis strung, To many a Border theme has rung: Then list to me, and thou shalt know Of this mysterious Man of Woe. MARMION.

CA.NTO SECOND. t;, J'_

MARMION.

CANTO SECOND.

I. TBE breeze, which swept away the smoke, Round Norham Castle rolled, When aU the loud artillery spoke, With lightoiog-8ash, and· thunder.stroke, As Marmion left the Hold. It curled DorTweed alone, that breeze ; For, far upon Northumbriao seas,

It freshly blew, Uld strong, 78 MARMION.

Where, from high Whitby's cloistered pile, Bouud to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, It bore a bark aJoog. Upon the gale she stooped her side, And bounded o'er the swelling tide, As she were dancing home; The merry seamen laughed, to see

Their gallant ship 80 lustily Furrow the green sea-foam. Much joyed they in their honoured freight; For, on the deck, in chair of state, The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, With five fair nuos, the galley graced.

II. 'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, Like birds escaped to green-wood shades, Their first flight from the cage, How timid, and how curious too, CAIII'O II. THE CONVENT.

For all to them was strange and n~w, And all the common sights they view, Their wonderment engage. One eyed the shronds and swelling sail, With many a benedicite; One at the rippliog surge grew pale, And would for terror pray; Then shrieked, because the sea-dog, nigh, His round black bead, and sparkling eye, Reared o'er the foaming spray ; And one would still adjllllt her veil, Disordered by the summer gale, Perchance lest some more worldly eye Her dedicated charms might spy ; Perchance, because such action graced Her fair-turned arm and slender waist. Light was each simple bosom there, . ' Save two, who ill might pleasure sbare,- The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. so MARMION. I III.

For this, with carving rare aDd quaint, She decked the chapel of the IIIlint,

And gave the relique-shrine of cost, With ivory and gems embost. The poor her convent's bounty bleat, The pilgriui in ita halls found rest.

IV. Black was her garb, her rigid rule Reformed on Benedictine school; Her cheek was pale, her form wu spare ; VJgil.s, and penitence austere, Had early quenched the light of youth, But gentle was the dame in sooth ; Though vain of her religioUl sway, She loved to see her maids obey,

Yet nothing stem W8tI abe in cell, And the nuns loved their Abbess well. Sad was thia "~e to the dame;

Summoned to Lindisfam, she came,

F MARMION. CA.NTO n.

There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old, And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold A chapter of Saint Benedict, For inquisition stem and strict, On two apostates from the faith, And, if·need were, to doom to death.

v. Nought say I here of Sister Clare" Save this, that she was young and fair; As yet a novice unprofessed, Lovely, and gentle, but distressed. She was betrothed to one now dead, Or worse, who had dishonoured Bed. Her kinsmen bade her give her hand To one, who loved her for her land: Herself, almost heart-broken now,

Was bent to take the vestal vow, And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom, Her blasted hopes and withered bloom. THE CONVENT. "S:>

VI. She sate upon the galle"s prow,

And seemed to mark the waves ~low ; Nay seemed, so fixed her look and eye, To count them as they glided by. She saw them not-'twas seeming all­ Far other scene ber thoughts recal,- A 8UD-scorched desart, waste "and bare, Nor wave, nor breezes, murmured· there; There saw she, "where some carelt:M band O'er a dead corpse had heaped the sand, To hide it till the jackalls come, To tear it from the scantytomb.- See what a woeful look was given, As she raised up her eyes to heaven!

. VIT. Lovely, and"gentle, and distressed- These charms might tame the"fiercest breait: p 2 ~

I I HARMlON. c.uI'I'o n.

Harpers have sung, and poets told, That he, in fury uocootrouled, The shaggy monarch of the wood, Before a virgin, fair and good, Hath pacified his savage mood. But passions in the human frame Oft put the lion's rage to sham.: And jealousy, by dark intrigue, With sordid avarice in league, Had practised, with their bowl aod knife, Against the moumer's harmlell8life. This crime was charged 'gaioat thole who lay Prisoned in Cuthbert's islet gray.

VUI. And now the vessel skirts the strand Of mountainous NorthlUllberland ; Towns, towers, and halls, lIICCesme rUe,

And catch the DUDS' dqhaed eyes. C41ft'O IL THE CONVENT. .s

Monk-Wearmouth IIOOD behind them lay, And Tynemouth's prioryaod bay ; They marked, amid her trees, the hall Of.lofty Seaton-Delaval ; They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck ftooda Rosh to the sea through lOundiog woods; They past the tower of WidderiDgtoo, Mother of many a valiant 80n ; At Coquet-isle their beads they tell, To the good Saint who owned the cell ; Then did the Aloe attention claim, And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name; And next, they crossed themaelves, to hear The whitening breakers lOund 80 near, :wJ1ere, boiling through the rocks, they roar On Dunstanborough's cavemed shore; Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they here, King Ida's castle, huge and square, From its tall rock look grimly down, ADd on the swelling ocean frown ; 86 MARMION. c:.urro Q. I Then from the coast they bore away, And reached the Holy Ialaod'. bay. j . .. IX.

The tide did DOW its 800d-mark gain, And girdled in the Saint's domain: For, with the flow and ebb, its stile Varies from continent to isle; Dry-shod, ,o'er sands, twice every day, The pilgrims to the shrine find way ; Twice every day, the waves efface Of staves and sandaled feet the trace. As to the port the galley flew) Higher and higher rose to view The Castle, with its battled walls, The ancient MOD88tery's halls, A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, Placed on the margin.of the ule. C:'IITO II. THE CONVENT. at: x. In Saxon strength that Abbey frowned, With massive arches broad and round, That rose alternate, row and row, On ponderous columns, short and low, Built ere the art was known, By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, The arcades of an aUey'd walk To emulate in stone. On the deep walla, the heathen Dane Had poured his impious rage in vain ; And needful was such strength to these, Exposed to the tempestuous seas, Scourged by the wind's eternal sway,

Open to rovers fierce as they, Which could twelve hundred years withstand Winds, waves,. and northern pirates' hand. Not but 'that portions of the pile; Rebuilded in a later stile, 81 IIADllON. CArro lL

Shewed where the spoiler's band had been; Not but the wutios sea-breeze ketm Had worn the pillar's carviog quaint, And mouldered in his niche the saint, And rounded, with consuming power, The pointed angles of each tower: Yet stiU entire the Abbey stood, Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.

XI. Soon as they neared his turrets strong, The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song, And with the sea-wave and the wind, Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, And made harmonious close; Then, answering from the sandy shore, Half-drowned amid the breakers' roar, According choms roee :

Down to the haven of the Isle, The monks and nuns in order file, c:AJI:rcI II•. THE CONVENT.

.. From Cuthbert'. cloisters grim; Banner, and cr088, and reliquee there, To meet Saint Hilda'. maids, they bare ;

And, 88 they caught the 80UDds on air, They echoed back the hymn. The islanden, in joyous mood, Rushed emulously through the ftood, To bale the bark to 1aod; Conspicuous by her veil aod hood, Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, And blessed them with her band.

xu.

Suppose we DOW the welcome .ai~ Suppoae the Convent banquet made: All through the holy dome, ~roogh cloister, aisle, and gallery, Wherever vestal maid might pry,

Nor risk to meet unhallowed eye, The stranger sisters roam: IlARMION. SAIITO II.

Till fell the evening damp with dew, And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, For there, even summer night is chill. Then, having strayed and gazed their fill, They closed around the fire ;

And all, in turn, essayed to paint The rival merits of their saint, A theme that ne'er can tire A holy maid; for, be it known, That their saint's honour is their own.

XIII. Then Whitby's nuns exnlting told,

How to their house three barons bold Must menial service do; While boJ'D8 blowout a note of shame, And monb cry "Fye upon your name ! In wrath, for loss of sylvan game, Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." c:Alf'l'O U. THE CONVENT. '1

"This, OIl .AscensiolHiay, .each yf!J!jr, While labouring on our harbour-pier, Must Herbert, Bruce, apd Percy heIa." They told, how in their convent cell A Saxon princess ooce did dwell, The lovely Edeltled; And how, of thousand makes, each one Was changed into • coil of stone, When holy Hilda prayed ; 'Themselves, within their holy bound, Their stony folds had often found. They told, how sea-fowls' piniOll8 fail, As over Whitby's towers they sail, And, sinking down, with ftutterings faint, They do their homage to the saint.

XIV. Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail, To vie with these in holy tale; 9t c:ArI'O U.'

His body's restiog-p1ace, ofold, How oft their patron c:haoged, they told; How, when the rude Dane burned their pile, The monks fled forth from Holy Isle; O'er northern mountain, manh, aod moor, From sea to ~ from shore to shore, Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore. They rested them in fair Melrose ; But though, alive, he loved it well, Nor there his reliqoes might repose; For, wond'rous tale to tell ! In his stooe-coffio forth he rides, (A ponderous bark for river tides) Yet light as gossamer it glides, Downward to Tdlmouth cell. Nor long was his abiding there, For southward did the saint repair; Chester-Ie-Street, and Rippon, saw His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw Hailed him with joy and ft:ar; c:AftO u. THE CONVENT.

And, after man, wanderings past, He chose his lordly I8&t at last, Where his cathedral, ~ and vast, Looks down upon the Wear: There, deep in Durham'. Gothic.hade, His relique! are' in secret laid; But none may know the place, . , Save of his holiest servant3 three,

Deep sworn to solemn 11I«ZeC1, Who share that woad'rou gnu:e.

xv. Who may his miracles declare! Even Scotland's dauntlell DIg, ..heir, (Although wdh them they led Galwegiaos, wild u oc:ean's gale, And Lodon's knights, ... !iaeathed ill mail, And the bold men ofTeriotdaIe,) Before his standani ted. MARMION.

'Twas he, to vindicate his reign,

Edged Alfred's faulchioo 00 the Dane, And turned the conqueror back again, I When, with his Norman bowyer baud,

He came to waste Northumberland.

XVI.

Bot fain Saint Hilda's OUDS would learn,

If, 00 a rock, by Liodisfarn, Saint Cuthbert sita, and toils to frame The sea-born beads that bear his name: .I Such tales'had Whitby's'fisherll told, And said they might his lIhape behold, And hear his anvil sound; A deadened cIang,---:'a huge dim form, Seen but, and heard, when ~tberiiJg storm, And night were closing round. . But this, as tale of idle fam~,

The DUDS of Lindisfarn di8claim. eAJlTO II. THE CONVENT. 95

XVII. While round the fire such legeDds go Far different was the scene of'woe, Where, in a secret aisle beneath, Council was held oflife and· death. It was more dark and lone that vault, Than th~ worst dungeon cell; Old Colwulf built it, for his fault, In penitence to dwell, When he, for cowl and beads, laid down The Saxon battle-axe and crown.

This den, which, chilling every 1IeD8e Of feeling, hearing,·sight, Was called the Vault of Penitence, Excluding air and light, Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made A place of burial, for such dead As, having died in mortal sin, Might not be laid the church withiR. . 96 IlARJUOlf• c.urre u.

'Twas DOW a place of puaUbment; Whence ifso loud a shriek were 18Dt, As reached the upper air, The hearers blessed tbemeelveI, and ..id, The spirits of the Iioful dead Bemoaned their tormeots there.

XVIII. Bot though, in the monutic pile, Did of this peoiteatiai aisle Some vague tra~D go, Few ooly, .save the Abbot, knew Where the place lay; and still more few Were thOBe, who bad fro~ him the clew

To that dread vault to go. Victi,m and exeeutiooer Were blind-fold wIleD tn8IpOrted thwe. In low dark ro~ds the an:bes buag, From the rude rock the Ilide-waIIs spnmg ; The gra.e-llto~, nidely IICUlptured o'er, Half lIUDk in earth, by time half wore, Were all the pavement of the &or ;

The mildew drope fell CMMl by ODe,

WIth tinkling plash, upon the ftODe. A creaet,· in an iron chaiR,

Which served to light this drear domain,

WIth damp and darkness 8lMJlbed to Itrive,

.& if it llCaI'Ce might keep ali•• ; And yet it dimly eened to thew The awful conclave met below.

XIX.

There, met to doom in teereey,

Were placed the heada of 4:OIWoota three :

All !eI'V8Ilts of Saint BeDediet, The statutes of wbaee order wid On iron table Jay;

• Adq.e.QudeUer.

G 100 MARMION. .CAKro IL

Whom the church numbered with the dead, For broken vows, aod CODvent 8ed.

XXI.

When thus her face was giVeD to view, (Although so pallid was her hue, It did a ibastly ~ontrast bear, To those bright ringlets ~ring fair,) Her look composed, and steady eye, Bespoke a matchless constancy;

And there she stoqd 10 calm and pale, That, but her breathing did not fail, And motion slight of eye and bead, And of her bosom, warranted, That neither senae nor pll1ae ,he lacks, You might have thought a form of wu, Wrought to the very life, was there;

So still she was, "10 pale, 8Q fair. ClAno II. THE CONVENT. tOI ,xxu. Her comrade' was a sordid Soul, Such as does murder for a meed ; Who, but of fear, knows no controul, Because his conscience, seared and foul, Feels not the import of his deed ; One, whoee brote-feelings ne'er aspires Beyoud his own more brute desires. Such tooJa the tempter ever needs, To do the savagest of deeds; For them no visioned terrors daunt, 'Their nights no fancied spectres haunt; One fem: wicb them, of all most bale, The fear of death,-alooe finds place. This wretch wu clad in frock and cowl, And shamed not loud to moan and howl, His body on the floor to dash, And crouch, like hound beneath the lash; While his mute partner, standing near, Waited her doom without a tear. MAIlIIION. !lUTO u.

XXill. Yet well the luckletl8 wretch might shriek, Well might her paleness terror speak!

For there were seeD, in that dark wall, Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall. Who enters at such griesly door, Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. In each a slender meal was laid, Of roots, of water, and of bread: By each, in Benedict1ne dre., Two haggard monks stood motipnle88 i Who, holding high a blazing torch, Shewed the grim entrance of the porch : Reftecting back the smoky beam, The dark-red walls and arches gleam. He~ stones and cemen~ were displayed. And building tools in order laid.

XXIV. These executioners were chose, As meo who were with mankind foes, THE CONVENT.

And, with despite and errry Dred, Into the cloister bad retired ; Or who, in desperate doubt of grace,

Strove, by deep peoauce, to e4faee Of some foul crime the atain; For, as the VUIlB1s of her wiD, Such mea the church selected stiU, AB either joyed in doing ill, Or thought more grace to gaio, If, in her caue, they wrestled down

FeeliDgB their oatare strove to own.

,By strange device were they brousbt there, They knew DOt how,.and knew not where.

XXV.'

And DOW that bliod old Abbot rose, To speak the o.pter's doom, 00 thOle the wall wu to ioclO8e, Alive, within the tomb; JIAIlllIH)N.

But stopped, becaUle that woeful mUd, Gathering her powers, to apeak euayed. Twice she esayed, and twice ill vain;

Her accents might DO utterance gain ; Nought but imperfect mormon slip From her convulsed and quivering lip :

·'Twixt each attempt aU was 10 1II:ilI,

You seemed to hear a distant rill- 'Twas ocean'., nella aad falls ; For though this vault of _ aod fear

Was to the soundiJIg ... 10 DeII', A tempest there you ~ could bear, So massive were the waUl.

XXVI. At length, an efFBI't sent apart

The blood that curdled to her heart,

And light came to her eye, And colour dawned upon her cheek, A hectic and a fluttered streak, 0IlIl'f0 II. . TID' COIfV21ft'.

Like that left on the Chcwiot peak, By Aotamn's stormy .,.; And when her silence broke at Iqtb, Still as she spoke, she gathered atrqtb, And arm'd heneIf to bear.

It was a fearful eight to lie Such high resolve and COII8taBcy,

In form 80 80ft and fair.

XXVII.

" I speak not to implore your grace ; Well know I, for one minute's space Succealea might I sue: Nor do I speak your prayers to pia; For if a death of lingering pain, To cleanse my sins, be penanoe vain, VaiD are your mllllllel too.-

I listened to a traitor's tale, I left the convent aDd the veil, II JlAItJII()N•

For three long yean I bowed my pride, A hone-boy in hia train to ride; And well my folly's meed he gave, Who forfeited, to be hia slave, All here, and all beyond the grave.­ He saw young Clara's face more fair,' He knew her of broad I8Dda the heir, Forgot hia vows, hia faith forswore,

And CoD8tIIDce was beloved DO more.- 'TIS an old tale, and oftlen told; But, did my fate and wiIh. agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old; Of maiden true betrayed for gold, That loved, or was aveoged, like me!

xxvm.

CI The king approved hia favourite's aim; In vain a rival barred hiA claim, Whose faith with Clare'. was J>IiIht, CAJITO U.

For he attaints thafrival's fame

With treason's charge-and OIl they came,

In mortal lists to 1ight. Their oaths are said, Their prayers are prayed, Their 1abces in the rest are laid, They meet in mortal shock; And hark! the throog, with thundering cry,

Shout It Marmioo, Marmion, to the sky ! De Wuton to the block I" Say ye, who preach heaven shall decide, When in the Iiata two champioos ride,

Say, was heaven's j118tic:e here l When, loyal in his love and faith, Wuton found overthrow or death, Beneath a traitor's spear•. How false tile charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell:'­ Then drew a packet from her breast,

Paused, gathered voice, aod apoke the relit. IlAIUlION. OAJI+o II.

XXIX.

II Still was laIaeM~rmiOll'8 bridal staid; To Whitby's convent Sed the maid, The hated match to shun. t Ho! shifts she thus?' king Henry cried, t Sir Marmion, abe allaU be thy bride, • H she were swore a nun.' One way remained-the king's command

Sent Marmion to the Scottish land: I lingered here, and rescue pIano'd For Clara and lor me : This caitiff Monk, for gotd, did ,wear, He would to Whitby'. shrine repair, And, by his drugs, my rival fair A saint in heaven should be. But ill the dastard kept his oath, .

WhOlle cowardice huh UIKlone 111 bot&.

.XXX.

" And 80W my 1:oIJKge tile secret"tells, Not that remorse my bosom swells, TIlE CONVENT.

But to auure my soul, that DODe Shall ever wed with Marmioo. Had fortuDe my laet hope betrayed,

This packet, to &be king COIIveyed, Had given him to the a.e.dIman', stroke, Although my heart that _bmt broke.­ Now, men of death, work forth your will, For I can mi'er,...be lItill;

And come he slow, or come be fast, It is but Death who coma at last.

XXXL " Yet drea<\ me, from my IiYiog toQIIlo, , Ye vaaaallllaVes of ltloody Db_I

If Marmioo's ~te retIIOIWl sboaId ~ FullllOOO such vengeauce will be take, That you shall wish the 1iery Daoe

Had rather ~ your pat...... Behind, a darker houl ! ., The altars quake, the crosier beads,

• ile MARHION. CAJITO II.

The ire of • despotic king Rides forth upon destruction's wing;

'Then shall these vaults, 80 strong and deep, Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep; Some traveller then shaI1 fiDel my bones, Whiteniog amid disjointed stones, , And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, Marvel such relics here should be."-

XXXII. YWld was her look, and stern her air; Back from her shoulders streamed her hair ; The loeb, that wont her brow to shade, Stared up erectly from her head ; Her figure seemed to rise more high; Her voice, despair's wild energy Had given a tone of prophecy. Appalled the astonished conclave sate;

With stupid eyes, the IIHIII of fate, "liTO II. THE CONVENT. ttt

Gazed on the ¥t iDIpired form, And listeoed for the avenging storm; The judges felt the victim's dread;

No hand wu moved, DO wOld WII8 aid, Till thus the Abbot's doom wu given, Raising hia sight1els bUll to hea'fen :­ " Sister, let thy sorrows cease ; Sinful brother, part in peace 1"- From that dire duogeoa, place of doom, Of execution too, and tomb, Paced forth the judges three; Sorrow it. were, and shame, to.tell The butcher-work that there befeI, When they bad glided from the cell Of sin and misery.

. t XXXDI.· ,An hoodred wiodiog steps C01IJ'ff11 That COIlClave to the upper eta, ; . lIIARKlOL ClAIITO 110

But, ere they breathed the .....air, They heard the sbriekioga of delpair, And many a stifted groan: With speed Jbeir opwud WK'f they tab, (Such speed .., age 8Dd _ can make,) And crOBlled themaelves for terror. Eke,

.AB hurryiog, totterios 00. Even in the vespers heaveolytoDe, . They seeQled to heal' a d~ groan, And bade the passiogbell to toU For welfare of a partiuiJ soul. Slow o'er the uWoigbt wave it swung,

Northumbrian rQCb in aoawer ruor, . l To Warkworth ceB the echoes rolled, His beads the wakeful hermit told; The Bamborougb peasaut rai8ed his head, . But slept ere half a prayer he said ; So far was heard the~ bell, The stag sprung up,oa. Cheviot Fen,

• ,"

CAIITe II. THE CONVENT. us

Spread hia broad nostril to the .wind, Listed before, aside, behind; Then couched him down beside the hind, And quaked among the mountain fern, To hear that sound so dull and stem.

END OP CANTO SECOND•

• MARMION.

Hi TO

WILLIAM ERSKINE, ESQ.

~1. Ettriclte '&Jut. LUtE April ~oming clouds, that pus, With varying alWIoW, o'er the gr.., And imitate, on field and furrow, Life's cbequered SCene of joy and" sorrow; Like streamlet of the moUntain north, Now in a torrent racing forth, Now winding slow its silver train, And almost slumbering ontlie plain; Like breezel of the autumn day; Whole voice inconstant dies away, 118 INTRODUCl'lON

, ADd ever swells again 88 fast, When the ear deems its murmur put ; ·ThU8 various, my roDWltic theme Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. Yet pleued, our eye pursues the trace Of Light and Shade'8 iocoostant race ; Pleased, view8 the rivulet afar, Weaviog its maze irregular ; And pleased, we listen as the breeze Heaves its wild sigh duough Autumn trees.

Then wild as cloIad, 01' au-, 01' pie,

Flow 00, Sow ,,~ my tale. ~ Oft hut thou~, " If Itill m~, Thine houri to poeti'y ." Ieat,

Go, and to tame thy w...... COUt8e, ,Qua1f from the fowibliD ,at'the Joarae,; Approach those .-.ten, o'er,WhGIe tJolbb lmmortallaurels If'Ier,bIod..:

I~ti~ofthef~retbu~

Still from the grne their voiOe »belud ; From them, and from the' pM_ they "., CbWle hoooured pille aad ,..eu.o J'OIld; Nor nmble on tIIraaF Inks md-..e, With harpen rua~ of,~.•

" Or ....'st ihou Doe our !Mer time Yields topic meet fOl' c1atJsic ria,..,'

Hut thou DO el.p.c v...' For Brunswick's venenele beane f What I not a line, a tear, .,mp, When valour bleeds for Jibert)J i­ Oh, hero of that glorioul time, When, with unrivalled light sublime,- 1NTRODUCTlOX

Though martial Austria, and though .n The might of Russia, and the Gaul, Though banded Europe stood her foes ......

The star of BflIIldeobwgh IU'OIIe I Thou could'.t DOt Iiye to see her beam For ever quenc:hed in Jeaa'8 stream.

Luneoted chief!-itwBS DOt given, To thee to ~ the doom of heaftD, And crush that dragoon in ita birth,

Predes~ ICOUJge of.guilty earth. Lamented cl\ief!-oot thine the power, To save in that presumptuous bour, When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatched the ...., but left tbeahield; Valour and skill ~twu dUDe to try, And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to. die. .m had it seemed thy aihrer hair

The last, the bitterest pang to .bate, For princedoms reft, and scuteheooa riv~

And birthrigbts to usl\FlMl" given ; TO CANTO THIRD. m

Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, And witDe88 woes thou cou1d'st not heal! On thee relentiag heaven bestows For honoured life an honoured close ; And when revolves, in time'. sure Change, The hour of Germany's revenge, When, breathing fury for her sake, Some new ~miDiU8 iball aWake, Her champion, ere he strike, aha1l come

To whet his sword on BRUNSWICK'. tomb.

" Or of the Red-CrOll8 hero teach, Dauntless in dungeon as on breach:

Alike to him the sea, the shore, The brand, the bridle, or the oar t

Alike to him the war that" calls

It'. votaries to the shattered walls, Which the grim Turk besmeared with blood, Against the Invincible made good; Or that, whose thundering voice could waka The silence f)f the polar lake" tit' JliftODVCTIO:N

When stubborn RoIs, aad me1aI"cI Swede, ,On the warped waye tbeiw deaah-gune played; Or that, where v~ and a6igIIt Howl'd round the father- of ..,ftPt,

Who soatchecl 011 A1easdria'. saud The conqueror's wreath widt cIying hand.

" Or, if to touch soch chord be thine, Restore the IUICieot tngic line, And 801m... tbe.1I8t81.tlIat.raog Frdm the wild harp which silent hung, By silver Avon's hol, sIa'e, Till twice an hundred,.an rolled o'er; When she, the bold Eudwotnlstl, eame,

With fearless band IIIId heart OD flame I,

From the pale willow IlDIItd1ed the, treasW8, And swept,it with a kirrdNcIlmeuure;,

Till Avorfs 8WaDI, While ~ thegroye With Montfort's ballet -.1 BaIsil'. ".0," Awakeoiug at the iDspired atarain;, ,, , D,lemed their own Shakespeare lived again."- 113

Thy frieodahip thus thy judgment wlWIiag, With praises not to me ~" In task more meet for pow~n, Would'lt thou eogqge m, -1IIriIia . But say, my ErskiIIe, bast.tb. _

That secret power by ldl obe,.el,- I •. " • Which warps not less ...... miDd, Ita source conce&Jd or UDliefiaed y . Whether an impal8e, ...... birth

Soon 88 the infant wak.·on earth,. One with oar f"ad our powers,

And rather part of • than eaftly " Or whether fitlier tanned die "'I.J Of habit, formed ia flU'ly de,i. . Howe'er detWed, .. foree ~ Rules with despotic sway th& brtM, And dra8s us on by newle8B et.ia,

While taste and re8IOO plead in <•• Look east, and uk the JWpm wby, Beneath Batavia's sultry sly,