Marmion. Walter Scott

doublet’s rugged fold

       Could scarce repel its pride!

       Say, hast thou given that lovely youth

       To serve in lady’s bower?

       Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 255

       A gentle paramour?’

       XVI.

       Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest;

       He roll’d his kindling eye,

       With pain his rising wrath suppress’d,

       Yet made a calm reply: 260

       ‘That boy thou thought’st so goodly fair,

       He might not brook the northern air.

       More of his fate if thou wouldst learn,

       I left him sick in Lindisfarn:

       Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, 265

       Why does thy lovely lady gay

       Disdain to grace the hall to-day?

       Or has that dame, so fair and sage,

       Gone on some pious pilgrimage?’-

       He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 270

       Whisper’d light tales of Heron’s dame.

       XVII.

       Unmark’d, at least unreck’d, the taunt,

       Careless the Knight replied,

       ‘No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt,

       Delights in cage to bide: 275

       Norham is grim and grated close,

       Hemm’d in by battlement and fosse,

       And many a darksome tower;

       And better loves my lady bright

       To sit in liberty and light, 280

       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 to rove? 285

       Let the wild falcon soar her swing,

       She’ll stoop when she has tired her wing.’--

       XVIII.

       ‘Nay, if with Royal James’s bride

       The lovely Lady Heron bide,

       Behold me here a messenger, 290

       Your tender greetings prompt to bear;

       For, to the Scottish court address’d,

       I journey at our King’s behest,

       And pray you, of your grace, provide

       For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 295

       I have not ridden in Scotland since

       James back’d the cause of that mock prince,

       Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,

       Who on the gibbet paid the cheat.

       Then did I march with Surrey’s power, 300

       What time we razed old Ayton tower.’-

       XIX.

       ‘For such-like need, my lord, I trow,

       Norham can find you guides enow;

       For here be some have prick’d as far,

       On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar; 305

       Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan’s ale,

       And driven the beeves of Lauderdale;

       Harried the wives of Greenlaw’s goods,

       And given them light to set their hoods.’-

       XX.

       ‘Now, in good sooth,’ Lord Marmion cried, 310

       ‘Were I in warlike wise to ride,

       A better guard I would not lack,

       Than your stout forayers at my back;

       But as in form of peace I go,

       A friendly messenger, to know, 315

       Why through all Scotland, near and far,

       Their King is mustering troops for war,

       The sight of plundering Border spears

       Might justify suspicious fears,

       And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 320

       Break out in some unseemly broil:

       A herald were my fitting guide;

       Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;

       Or pardoner, or travelling priest,

       Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.’ 325

       XXI.

       The Captain mused a little space,

       And pass’d 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 330

       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: 335

       The mass he might not sing or say,

       Upon one stinted meal a-day;

       So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,

       And pray’d for our success the while.

       Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 340

       Is all too well in case to ride;

       The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein

       The wildest war-horse in your train;

       But then, no spearman in the hall

       Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 345

       Friar John of Tillmouth were the man:

       A blithesome brother at the can,

       A welcome guest in hall and bower,

       He knows each castle, town, and tower,

       In which the wine and ale is good, 350

       ’Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.

       But that good man, as ill befalls,

       Hath seldom left our castle walls,

       Since, on the vigil of St. Bede,

       In evil hour, he cross’d the Tweed, 355

       To teach Dame Alison her creed.

       Old Bughtrig found him with his wife;

       And John, an enemy to strife,

       Sans frock and hood, fled for his life.

       The jealous churl hath deeply swore, 360

       That, if again he venture o’er,

       He shall shrieve penitent no more.

       Little he loves such risks, I know;

       Yet, in your guard, perchance will go.’

       XXII.

       Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 365

       Carved to his uncle and that lord,

       And reverently took up the word.

       ‘Kind uncle, woe were we each one,

       If harm should hap to brother John.

       He is a man of mirthful speech, 370