Marmion Part 13

On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest, With iron quilted well; Each at his back (a slender store) 50 His forty days' provision bore, As feudal statutes tell.

His arms were halbert, axe, or spear, A crossbow there, a hagbut here, A dagger-knife, and brand. 55 Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer, As loath to leave his cottage dear, And march to foreign strand; Or musing, who would guide his steer, To till the fallow land. 60 Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye Did aught of dastard terror lie; More dreadful far his ire, Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name, In eager mood to battle came, 65 Their valour like light straw on name, A fierce but fading fire.

IV.

Not so the Borderer:--bred to war, He knew the battle's din afar, And joy'd to hear it swell. 70 His peaceful day was slothful ease; Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please, Like the loud slogan yell.

On active steed, with lance and blade, The light-arm'd p.r.i.c.ker plied his trade,-- 75 Let n.o.bles fight for fame; Let va.s.sals follow where they lead, Burghers, to guard their towns.h.i.+ps, bleed, But war's the Borderer's game.

Their gain, their glory, their delight, 80 To sleep the day, maraud the night, O'er mountain, moss, and moor; Joyful to fight they took their way, Scarce caring who might win the day, Their booty was secure. 85 These, as Lord Marmion's train pa.s.s'd by, Look'd on at first with careless eye, Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know The form and force of English bow.

But when they saw the Lord array'd 90 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?-- O! could we but on Border side, 95 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, 100 Could make a kirtle rare.'

V.

Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race, Of different language, form, and face, A various race of man; Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd, 105 And wild and garish semblance made, The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid, And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd, To every varying clan, Wild through their red or sable hair 110 Look'd out their eyes with savage stare, On Marmion as he pa.s.s'd; Their legs above the knee were bare; Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, And harden'd to the blast; 115 Of taller race, the chiefs they own Were by the eagle's plumage known.

The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide Their hairy buskins well supplied; The graceful bonnet deck'd their head: 120 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, O! 125 Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, To that which England bore.

The Isles-men carried at their backs The ancient Danish battle-axe.

They raised a wild and wondering cry, 130 As with his guide rode Marmion by.

Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, And, with their cries discordant mix'd, Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt. 135

VI.

Thus through the Scottish camp they pa.s.s'd, And reach'd the City gate at last, Where all around, a wakeful guard, Arm'd burghers kept their watch and ward.

Well had they cause of jealous fear, 140 When lay encamp'd, 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, 145 The armourer's anvil clash'd and rang; Or toil'd 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. 150 Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace Through street, and lane, and market-place, Bore lance, or casque, or sword; While burghers, with important face, Described each new-come lord, 155 Discuss'd his lineage, told his name, His following, and his warlike fame.

The Lion led to lodging meet, Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street; There must the Baron rest, 160 Till past the hour of vesper tide, And then to Holy-Rood must ride,-- Such was the King's behest.

Meanwhile the Lion's care a.s.signs A banquet rich, and costly wines, 165 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. 170

VIL

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, That night, with wa.s.sell, mirth, and glee: King James within her princely bower Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power, Summon'd to spend the parting hour; 175 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 180 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. 185 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-ear'd cap, and motley vest, 190 The licensed fool retail'd 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, 195 Nor courted them in vain; For often, in the parting hour, Victorious Love a.s.serts his power O'er coldness and disdain; And flinty is her heart, can view 200 To battle march a lover true-- Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, Nor own her share of pain.

VIII.

Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game, The King to greet Lord Marmion came, 205 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 doff'd, to Marmion bending low, 210 His broider'd cap and plume.

For royal was his garb and mien, His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, Trimm'd with the fur of marten wild; His vest of changeful satin sheen, 215 The dazzled eye beguiled; His gorgeous collar hung adown, Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, The thistle brave, of old renown: His trusty blade, Toledo right, 220 Descended from a baldric bright; White were his buskins, on the heel His spurs inlaid of gold and steel; His bonnet, all of crimson fair, Was b.u.t.ton'd with a ruby rare: 225 And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen A prince of such a n.o.ble mien.

IX.

The Monarch's form was middle size; For feat of strength, or exercise, Shaped in proportion fair; 230 And hazel was his eagle eye, And auburn of the darkest dye, His short curl'd beard and hair.

Light was his footstep in the dance, And firm his stirrup in the lists; 235 And, oh! he had that merry glance, That seldom lady's heart resists.

Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue;-- Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, 240 For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

I said he joy'd in banquet bower; But, 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, How suddenly his cheer would change, His look o'ercast and lower, 245 If, in a sudden turn, he felt The pressure of his iron belt, That bound his breast in penance pain, In memory of his father slain.

Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, 250 Soon as the pa.s.sing pang was o'er, Forward he rush'd, with double glee, Into the stream of revelry: Thus, dim-seen object of affright Startles the courser in his flight, 255 And half he halts, half springs aside; But feels the quickening spur applied, And, straining on the tighten'd rein, Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain.

X.

O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, 260 Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway: To Scotland's Court she came, To be a hostage for her lord, Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, And with the King to make accord, 265 Had sent his lovely dame.

Nor to that lady free alone Did the gay King allegiance own; For the fair Queen of France Sent him a turquois ring and glove, 270 And charged him, as her knight and love, For her to break a lance; And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, And march three miles on Southron land, And bid the banners of his band 275 In English breezes dance.

And thus, for France's Queen he drest His manly limbs in mailed vest; And thus admitted English fair His inmost counsels still to share; 280 And thus, for both, he madly plann'd The ruin of himself and land!

And yet, the sooth to tell, Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 285 From Margaret's eyes that fell,-- His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.

XI.

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, And weeps the weary day, 290 The war against her native soil, Her monarch's risk in battle broil:-- And in gay Holy-Rood, the while, Dame Heron rises with a smile Upon the harp to play. 295 Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er The strings her fingers flew; And as she touch'd and tuned them all, Ever her bosom's rise and fall Was plainer given to view; 300 For, all for heat, was laid aside Her wimple, and her hood untied.

And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the King, And then around the silent ring; 305 And laugh'd, and blush'd, and oft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play!

At length, upon the harp, with glee, Mingled with arch simplicity, 310 A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung:--

XII.

LOCHINVAR.

Lady Heron's Song

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, 315 He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; 320 But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 325 Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 'O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?'-- 330

'I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;-- Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 335 That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.'

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.

She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 340 He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-- 'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 345 And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, ''Twere better by far, To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.'

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; 350 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; 355 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing, on Cann.o.bie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 360

XIII.