XXVII.

Thin curling in the morning air, The wreaths of failing smoke declare 550 To embers now the brands decay'd, Where the night-watch their fires had made.

They saw, slow rolling on the plain, Full many a baggage-cart and wain, And dire artillery's clumsy car, 555 By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war; And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven, And culverins which France had given.

Ill-omen'd gift! the guns remain The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 560

XXVIII.

Nor mark'd they less, where in the air A thousand streamers flaunted fair; Various in shape, device, and hue, Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square, 565 Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, there O'er the pavilions flew.

Highest, and midmost, was descried The royal banner floating wide; The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 570 Pitch'd deeply in a ma.s.sive stone, Which still in memory is shown, Yet bent beneath the standard's weight Whene'er the western wind unroll'd, With toil, the huge and c.u.mbrous fold, 575 And gave to view the dazzling field, Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold.

XXIX.

Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright,-- He view'd it with a chiefs delight,-- 580 Until within him burn'd his heart, And lightning from his eye did part, As on the battle-day; Such glance did falcon never dart, When stooping on his prey. 585 'Oh! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said, Thy King from warfare to dissuade Were but a vain essay: For, by St. George, were that host mine, Not power infernal, nor divine, 590 Should once to peace my soul incline, Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine In glorious battle-fray!'

Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood: 'Fair is the sight,--and yet 'twere good, 595 That Kings would think withal, When peace and wealth their land has bless'd, 'Tis better to sit still at rest, Than rise, perchance to fall.'

x.x.x.

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd, 600 For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd.

When sated with the martial show That peopled all the plain below, The wandering eye could o'er it go, And mark the distant city glow 605 With gloomy splendour red; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a l.u.s.tre proud, 610 Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.

Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, Where the huge Castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 615 Piled deep and ma.s.sy, close and high, Mine own romantic town!

But northward far, with purer blaze, On Ochil mountains fell the rays, And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 620 It gleam'd a purple amethyst.

Yonder the sh.o.r.es of Fife you saw; Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law; And, broad between them roll'd, The gallant Frith the eye might note, 625 Whose islands on its bosom float, Like emeralds chased in gold.

Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent; As if to give his rapture vent, The spur he to his charger lent, 630 And raised his bridle hand, And, making demi-volte in air, Cried, 'Where's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land!'

The Lindesay smiled his joy to see; 635 Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee.

x.x.xI.

Thus while they look'd, a flourish proud, Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, And fife, and kettle-drum, And sackbut deep, and psaltery, 640 And war-pipe with discordant cry, And cymbal clattering to the sky, Making wild music bold and high, Did up the mountain come; The whilst the bells, with distant chime, 645 Merrily toll'd the hour of prime, And thus the Lindesay spoke: 'Thus clamour still the war-notes when The King to ma.s.s his way has ta'en, Or to Saint Katharine's of Sienne, 650 Or Chapel of Saint Rocque.

To you they speak of martial fame; But me remind of peaceful game, When blither was their cheer, Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air, 655 In signal none his steed should spare, But strive which foremost might repair To the downfall of the deer.

x.x.xII.

'Nor less,' he said,--'when looking forth, I view yon Empress of the North 660 Sit on her hilly throne; Her palace's imperial bowers, Her castle, proof to hostile powers, Her stately halls and holy towers-- Nor less,' he said, 'I moan, 665 To think what woe mischance may bring, And how these merry bells may ring The death-dirge of our gallant King; Or with the larum call The burghers forth to watch and ward, 670 'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall.-- But not for my presaging thought, Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought!

Lord Marmion, I say nay: 675 G.o.d is the guider of the field, He breaks the champion's spear and shield,-- But thou thyself shalt say, When joins yon host in deadly stowre, That England's dames must weep in bower, 680 Her monks the death-ma.s.s sing; For never saw'st thou such a power Led on by such a King.'-- And now, down winding to the plain, The barriers of the camp they gain, 685 And there they made a stay.-- There stays the Minstrel, till he fling His hand o'er every Border string, And fit his harp the pomp to sing, Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 695 In the succeeding lay.

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH.

TO GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ.

Edinburgh.

When dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sunbeam throws, Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard, 5 Like patron on a needy bard; When silvan occupation's done, And o'er the chimney rests the gun, And hang, in idle trophy, near, The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; 10 When wiry terrier, rough and grim, And greyhound, with his length of limb, And pointer, now employ'd no more, c.u.mber our parlour's narrow floor; When in his stall the impatient steed 15 Is long condemn'd to rest and feed; When from our snow-encircled home, Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam Since path is none, save that to bring The needful water from the spring; 20 When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, Beguiles the dreary hour no more, And darkling politician, cross'd, Inveighs against the lingering post, And answering housewife sore complains 25 Of carriers' snow-impeded wains; When such the country cheer, I come, Well pleased, to seek our city home; For converse, and for books, to change The Forest's melancholy range, 30 And welcome, with renew'd delight, The busy day and social night.

Not here need my desponding rhyme Lament the ravages of time, As erst by Newark's riven towers, 35 And Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers.

True,--Caledonia's Queen is changed, Since on her dusky summit ranged, Within its steepy limits pent, By bulwark, line, and battlement, 40 And flanking towers, and laky flood, Guarded and garrison'd she stood, Denying entrance or resort, Save at each tall embattled port; Above whose arch, suspended, hung 45 Portcullis spiked with iron p.r.o.ng.

That long is gone,--but not so long, Since, early closed, and opening late, Jealous revolved the studded gate, Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 50 A wicket churlishly supplied.

Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, Dun-Edin! O, how altered now, When safe amid thy mountain court Thou sitt'st, like Empress at her sport, 55 And liberal, unconfined, and free, Flinging thy white arms to the sea, For thy dark cloud, with umber'd lower, That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, Thou gleam'st against the western ray 60 Ten thousand lines of brighter day.

Not she, the Championess of old, In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd, She for the charmed spear renown'd, Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,-- Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 66 What time she was Malbecco's guest, She gave to flow her maiden vest; When from the corselet's grasp relieved, Free to the sight her bosom heaved; 70 Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, Erst hidden by the aventayle; And down her shoulders graceful roll'd Her locks profuse, of paly gold.

They who whilom, in midnight fight, 75 Had marvell'd at her matchless might, No less her maiden charms approved, But looking liked, and liking loved.

The sight could jealous pangs beguile, And charm Malbecco's cares a while; 80 And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, Forgot his Columbella's claims, And pa.s.sion, erst unknown, could gain The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane; Nor durst light Paridel advance, 85 Bold as he was, a looser glance.

She charm'd, at once, and tamed the heart, Incomparable Britomane!

So thou, fair City! disarray'd Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 90 As stately seem'st, but lovelier far Than in that panoply of war.

Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne Strength and security are flown; Still as of yore, Queen of the North! 95 Still canst thou send thy children forth.

Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, Than now, in danger, shall be thine, Thy dauntless voluntary line; 100 For fosse and turret proud to stand, Their b.r.e.a.s.t.s the bulwarks of the land.

Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, Full red would stain their native soil, Ere from thy mural crown there fell 105 The slightest knosp, or pinnacle.

And if it come,--as come it may, Dun-Edin! that eventful day,-- Renown'd for hospitable deed, That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 110 In patriarchal times whose care Descending angels deign'd to share; That claim may wrestle blessings down On those who fight for The Good Town, Destined in every age to be 115 Refuge of injured royalty; Since first, when conquering York arose, To Henry meek she gave repose, Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. 120

Truce to these thoughts!--for, as they rise, How gladly I avert mine eyes, Bodings, or true or false, to change, For Fiction's fair romantic range, Or for Tradition's dubious light, 125 That hovers 'twixt the day and night: Dazzling alternately and dim Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, Knights, squires, and lovely dames, to see, Creation of my fantasy, 130 Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, And make of mists invading men.-- Who loves not more the night of June Than dull December's gloomy noon?

The moonlight than the fog of frost? 135 But can we say, which cheats the most?

But who shall teach my harp to gain A sound of the romantic strain, Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere Could win the royal Henry's ear, 140 Famed Beauclerk call'd, for that he loved The minstrel, and his lay approved?

Who shall these lingering notes redeem, Decaying on Oblivion's stream; Such notes as from the Breton tongue 145 Marie translated, Blondel sung?-- O! born, Time's ravage to repair, And make the dying Muse thy care; Who, when his scythe her h.o.a.ry foe Was poising for the final blow, 150 The weapon from his hand could wring, And break his gla.s.s, and shear his wing, And bid, reviving in his strain, The gentle poet live again; Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 155 An unpedantic moral gay, Nor less the dullest theme bid flit On wings of unexpected wit; In letters as in life approved, Example honour'd, and beloved,-- 160 Dear ELLIS! to the bard impart A lesson of thy magic art, To win at once the head and heart,-- At once to charm, instruct, and mend, My guide, my pattern, and my friend! 165

Such minstrel lesson to bestow Be long thy pleasing task,--but, O!

No more by thy example teach,-- What few can practise, all can preach,-- With even patience to endure 170 Lingering disease, and painful cure, And boast affliction's pangs subdued By mild and manly fort.i.tude.

Enough, the lesson has been given: Forbid the repet.i.tion, Heaven! 175

Come listen, then! for thou hast known, And loved the Minstrel's varying tone, Who, like his Border sires of old, Waked a wild measure rude and bold, Till Windsor's oaks, and Ascot plain, 180 With wonder heard the northern strain.

Come listen! bold in thy applause, The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws; And, as the ancient art could stain Achievements on the storied pane, 185 Irregularly traced and plann'd, But yet so glowing and so grand,-- So shall he strive, in changeful hue, Field, feast, and combat, to renew, And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee, 191 And all the pomp of chivalry.

CANTO FIFTH.

THE COURT.

I.

The train has left the hills of Braid; The barrier guard have open made (So Lindesay bade) the palisade, That closed the tented ground; Their men the warders backward drew, 5 And carried pikes as they rode through, Into its ample bound.

Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, Upon the Southern band to stare.

And envy with their wonder rose, 10 To see such well-appointed foes; Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, So huge, that many simply thought, But for a vaunt such weapons wrought; And little deem'd their force to feel, 15 Through links of mail, and plates of steel, When rattling upon Flodden vale, The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail.

II.

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view Glance every line and squadron through; 20 And much he marvell'd one small land Could marshal forth such various band; For men-at-arms were here, Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, Like iron towers for strength and weight, 25 On Flemish steeds of bone and height, With battle-axe and spear.

Young knights and squires, a lighter train, Practised their chargers on the plain, By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 30 Each warlike feat to show, To pa.s.s, to wheel, the croupe to gain, And high curvett, that not in vain The sword sway might descend amain On foeman's casque below. 35 He saw the hardy burghers there March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare, For vizor they wore none, Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight; But burnish'd were their corslets bright, 40 Their brigantines, and gorgets light, Like very silver shone.

Long pikes they had for standing fight, Two-handed swords they wore, And many wielded mace of weight, 45 And bucklers bright they bore.

III.