Marmion Part 15

XXVI.

'Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, Whose names I now shall call, Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!

Subjects of him who sent me here, At his tribunal to appear, 740 I summon one and all: I cite you by each deadly sin, That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within; I cite you by each brutal l.u.s.t, That e'er defiled your earthly dust,-- 745 By wrath, by pride, by fear, By each o'er-mastering pa.s.sion's tone, By the dark grave, and dying groan!

When forty days are pa.s.s'd and gone, I cite you at your Monarch's throne, 750 To answer and appear.'-- Then thundered forth a roll of names:-- The first was thine, unhappy James!

Then all thy n.o.bles came; Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, 755 Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,- Why should I tell their separate style?

Each chief of birth and fame, Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, 760 Was cited there by name; And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye; De Wilton, erst of Aberley, The self-same thundering voice did say.-- 765 But then another spoke: 'Thy fatal summons I deny, And thine infernal Lord defy, Appealing me to Him on high, Who burst the sinner's yoke.' 770 At that dread accent, with a scream, Parted the pageant like a dream, The summoner was gone.

p.r.o.ne on her face the Abbess fell, And fast, and fast, her beads did tell; 775 Her nuns came, startled by the yell, And found her there alone.

She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, What time, or how, the Palmer pa.s.s'd.

XXVII.

s.h.i.+ft we the scene.--The camp doth move, 780 Dun-Edin's streets are empty now, Save when, for weal of those they love, To pray the prayer, and vow the vow, The tottering child, the anxious fair, The grey-hair'd sire, with pious care, 785 To chapels and to shrines repair-- Where is the Palmer now? and where The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare?-- Bold Douglas! to Tantallon fair They journey in thy charge: 790 Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, The Palmer still was with the band; Angus, like Lindesay, did command, That none should roam at large.

But in that Palmer's altered mien 795 A wondrous change might now be seen; Freely he spoke of war, Of marvels wrought by single hand, When lifted for a native land; And still look'd high, as if he plann'd 800 Some desperate deed afar.

His courser would he feed and stroke, And, tucking up his sable frocke, Would first his mettle bold provoke, Then soothe or quell his pride. 805 Old Hubert said, that never one He saw, except Lord Marmion, A steed so fairly ride.

XXVIII.

Some half-hour's march behind, there came, By Eustace govern'd fair, 810 A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, With all her nuns, and Clare.

No audience had Lord Marmion sought; Ever he fear'd to aggravate Clara de Clare's suspicious hate; 815 And safer 'twas, he thought, To wait till, from the nuns removed, The influence of kinsmen loved, And suit by Henry's self approved, Her slow consent had wrought. 820 His was no flickering flame, that dies Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs, And lighted oft at lady's eyes; He long'd to stretch his wide command O'er luckless Clara's ample land: 825 Besides, when Wilton with him vied, Although the pang of humbled pride The place of jealousy supplied, Yet conquest, by that meanness won He almost loath'd to think upon, 830 Led him, at times, to hate the cause, Which made him burst through honour's laws.

If e'er he loved, 'twas her alone, Who died within that vault of stone.

XXIX.

And now, when close at hand they saw 835 North Berwick's town, and lofty Law, Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, Before a venerable pile, Whose turrets view'd, afar, The lofty Ba.s.s, the Lambie Isle, 840 The ocean's peace or war.

At tolling of a bell, forth came The convent's venerable Dame, And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest With her, a loved and honour'd guest, 845 Till Douglas should a bark prepare To wait her back to Whitby fair.

Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, And thank'd the Scottish Prioress; And tedious were to tell, I ween, 850 The courteous speech that pa.s.s'd between.

O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave; But when fair Clara did intend, Like them, from horseback to descend, Fitz-Eustace said,--'I grieve, 855 Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, Such gentle company to part;-- Think not discourtesy, But lords' commands must be obey'd; And Marmion and the Douglas said, 860 That you must wend with me.

Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, Commanding, that, beneath his care, Without delay, you shall repair 865 To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.'

x.x.x.

The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd; But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,-- She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. 870 'Cheer thee, my child!' the Abbess said, 'They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band.'-- 'Nay, holy mother, nay,'

Fitz-Eustace said, 'the lovely Clare 875 Will be in Lady Angus' care, In Scotland while we stay; And, when we move, an easy ride Will bring us to the English side, Female attendance to provide 880 Befitting Gloster's heir; Nor thinks, nor dreams, my n.o.ble lord, By slightest look, or act, or word, To hara.s.s Lady Clare.

Her faithful guardian he will be, 885 Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e'en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, Within her kinsman's halls.'

He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace; 890 His faith was painted on his face, And Clare's worst fear relieved.

The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, Entreated, threaten'd, grieved; 895 To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd, And call'd the Prioress to aid, To curse with candle, bell, and book.

Her head the grave Cistertian shook: 900 'The Douglas, and the King,' she said, 'In their commands will be obey'd; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall.'

x.x.xI.

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 905 a.s.sumed her wonted state again,- For much of state she had,-- Composed her veil, and raised her head, And--'Bid,' in solemn voice she said, 'Thy master, bold and bad, 910 The records of his house turn o'er, And, when he shall there written see, That one of his own ancestry Drove the monks forth of Coventry, Bid him his fate explore! 915 Prancing in pride of earthly trust, His charger hurl'd him to the dust, And, by a base plebeian thrust, He died his band before.

G.o.d judge 'twixt Marmion and me; 920 He is a Chief of high degree, And I a poor recluse; Yet oft, in holy writ, we see Even such weak minister as me May the oppressor bruise: 925 For thus, inspired, did Judith slay The mighty in his sin, And Jael thus, and Deborah'-- Here hasty Blount broke in: 'Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band; 930 Saint Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, To hear the Lady preach?

By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, 935 Will sharper sermon teach.

Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce.'--

x.x.xII.

'Submit we then to force,' said Clare, 'But let this barbarous lord despair 940 His purposed aim to win; Let him take living, land, and life; But to be Marmion's wedded wife In me were deadly sin: And if it be the King's decree, 945 That I must find no sanctuary, In that inviolable dome, Where even a homicide might come, And safely rest his head, Though at its open portals stood, 950 Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, The kinsmen of the dead; Yet one asylum is my own Against the dreaded hour; A low, a silent, and a lone, 955 Where kings have little power.

One victim is before me there.-- Mother, your blessing, and in prayer Remember your unhappy Clare!'

Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 960 Kind blessings many a one: Weeping and wailing loud arose, Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes Of every simple nun.

His eyes the gentle Eustace dried, 965 And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.

Then took the squire her rein, And gently led away her steed, And, by each courteous word and deed, To cheer her strove in vain. 970

x.x.xIII.

But scant three miles the band had rode, When o'er a height they pa.s.s'd, And, sudden, close before them show'd His towers, Tantallon vast; Broad, ma.s.sive, high, and stretching far, 975 And held impregnable in war.

On a projecting rock they rose, And round three sides the ocean flows, The fourth did battled walls enclose, And double mound and fosse. 980 By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong, Through studded gates, an entrance long, To the main court they cross.

It was a wide and stately square: Around were lodgings, fit and fair, 985 And towers of various form, Which on the court projected far, And broke its lines quadrangular.

Here was square keep, there turret high, Or pinnacle that sought the sky, 990 Whence oft the Warder could descry The gathering ocean-storm.

x.x.xIV.

Here did they rest.--The princely care Of Douglas, why should I declare, Or say they met reception fair? 995 Or why the tidings say, Which, varying, to Tantallon came, By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame, With every varying day?

And, first, they heard King James had won 1000 Etall, and Wark, and Ford; and then, That Norham Castle strong was ta'en.

At that sore marvell'd Marmion;-- And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand Would soon subdue Northumberland: 1005 But whisper'd news there came, That, while his host inactive lay, And melted by degrees away, King James was dallying off the day With Heron's wily dame.-- 1010 Such acts to chronicles I yield; Go seek them there, and see: Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, And not a history.-- At length they heard the Scottish host 1015 On that high ridge had made their post, Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain; And that brave Surrey many a band Had gather'd in the Southern land, And march'd into Northumberland, 1020 And camp at Wooler ta'en.

Marmion, like charger in the stall, That hears, without, the trumpet-call, Began to chafe, and swear:-- 'A sorry thing to hide my head 1025 In castle, like a fearful maid, When such a field is near!

Needs must I see this battle-day: Death to my fame if such a fray Were fought, and Marmion away! 1030 The Douglas, too, I wot not why, Hath 'bated of his courtesy: No longer in his halls I'll stay.'

Then bade his band they should array For march against the dawning day. 1035

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.

TO RICHARD HEBER, ESQ.

Mertoun-House, Christmas.

Heap on more wood!--the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.

Each age has deem'd the new-born year The fittest time for festal cheer: 5 Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane At Iol more deep the mead did drain; High on the beach his galleys drew, And feasted all his pirate crew; Then in his low and pine-built hall, 10 Where s.h.i.+elds and axes deck'd the wall, They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer; Caroused in seas of sable beer; While round, in brutal jest, were thrown The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone, 15 Or listen'd all, in grim delight, While scalds yell'd out the joys of fight.

Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, While wildly-loose their red locks fly, And dancing round the blazing pile, 20 They make such barbarous mirth the while, As best might to the mind recall The boisterous joys of Odin's hall.

And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had roll'd, 25 And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all his hospitable train.

Domestic and religious rite Gave honour to the holy night; On Christmas eve the bells were rung; 30 On Christmas eve the ma.s.s was sung: That only night in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.

The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen; The hall was dress'd with holly green; 35 Forth to the wood did merry-men go, To gather in the mistletoe.

Then open'd wide the Baron's hall To va.s.sal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside, 40 And Ceremony doff'd his pride.

The heir, with roses in his shoes, That night might village partner choose; The Lord, underogating, share The vulgar game of 'post and pair.' 45 All hail'd, with uncontroll'd delight, And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 50 Went roaring up the chimney wide: The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its ma.s.sive board No mark to part the squire and lord. 55 Then was brought in the l.u.s.ty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man; Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, Crested with bays and rosemary.

Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 60 How, when, and where, the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar.

The wa.s.sel round, in good brown bowls, Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls. 65 There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie: Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce, At such high tide, her savoury goose.