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       The form and force of English bow;

       But when they saw the lord arrayed

       In splendid arms and rich brocade,

       Each Borderer to his kinsman said:-

       “Hist, Ringan! seest thou there!

       Canst guess which road they’ll homeward ride?

       Oh! could we but on Border side,

       By Eusedale glen, or Liddell’s tide,

       Beset a prize so fair!

       That fangless Lion, too, their guide,

       Might chance to lose his glistering hide;

       Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied

       Could make a kirtle rare.”

       V

      Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race,

       Of different language, form, and face -

       Avarious race of man;

       Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed,

       And wild and garish semblance made

       The chequered trews and belted plaid,

       And varying notes the war-pipes brayed

       To every varying clan;

       Wild through their red or sable hair

       Looked out their eyes with savage stare

       On Marmion as he passed;

       Their legs above the knee were bare;

       Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,

       And hardened to the blast;

       Of taller race, the chiefs they own

       Were by the eagle’s plumage known.

       The hunted reddeer’s undressed hide

       Their hairy buskins well supplied;

       The graceful bonnet decked their head;

       Back from their shoulders hung the plaid;

       A broadsword of unwieldy length,

       A dagger proved for edge and strength,

       A studded targe they wore,

       And quivers, bows, and shafts,—but, oh!

       Short was the shaft and weak the bow

       To that which England bore.

       The Islesmen carried at their backs

       The ancient Danish battleaxe.

       They raised a wild and wondering cry

       As with his guide rode Marmion by.

       Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when

       The clanging seafowl leave the fen,

       And, with their cries discordant mixed,

       Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwixt.

       VI

      Thus through the Scottish camp they passed,

       And reached the city gate at last,

       Where all around, a wakeful guard,

       Armed burghers kept their watch and ward.

       Well had they cause of jealous fear,

       When lay encamped, in field so near,

       The Borderer and the Mountaineer.

       As through the bustling streets they go,

       All was alive with martial show;

       At every turn, with dinning clang,

       The armourer’s anvil clashed and rang;

       Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel

       The bar that arms the charger’s heel;

       Or axe or falchion to the side

       Of jarring grindstone was applied.

       Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace,

       Through street and lane and marketplace

       Bore lance, or casque, or sword;

       While burghers, with important face,

       Described each newcome lord,

       Discussed his lineage, told his name,

       His following and his warlike fame.

       The Lion led to lodging meet,

       Which high o’erlooked the crowded street;

       There must the baron rest

       Till past the hour of vesper tide,

       And then to Holyrood must ride -

       Such was the king’s behest.

       Meanwhile the Lion’s care assigns

       A banquet rich, and costly wines,

       To Marmion and his train;

       And when the appointed hour succeeds,

       The baron dons his peaceful weeds,

       And following Lindesay as he leads,

       The palace-halls they gain.

       VII

      Old Holyrood rung merrily

       That night with wassail, mirth, and glee:

       King James within her princely bower

       Feasted the chiefs of Scotland’s power,

       Summoned to spend the parting hour;

       For he had charged that his array

       Should southward march by break of day.

       Well loved that splendid monarch aye

       The banquet and the song,

       By day the tourney, and by night

       The merry dance, traced fast and light,

       The maskers quaint, the pageant bright,

       The revel loud and long.

       This feast outshone his banquets past:

       It was his blithest—and his last.

       The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay,

       Cast on the Court a dancing ray;

       Here to the harp did minstrels sing;

       There ladies touched a softer string;

       With long-eared cap and motley vest

       The licensed fool retailed his jest;

       His magic tricks the juggler plied;

       At dice and draughts the gallants vied;

       While some, in close recess apart,

       Courted the ladies of their heart,

       Nor courted them in vain;

       For often in the parting hour

       Victorious Love asserts his power

       O’er coldness and disdain;

       And flinty is her heart, can view

       To battle march a lover true -

       Can hear, perchance, his last adieu,

       Nor own her share of pain.

       VIII

      Through this mixed crowd of glee and game,

       The King to greet Lord Marmion came,

       While, reverent, all made room.

       An easy task it was, I trow,

       King James’s manly form to know,

       Although, his courtesy to show,

       He doffed, to Marmion bending low,

       His broidered cap and plume.

      

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