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But ere they breathed the fresher air

Such high resolve and constancy,

In form so soft and fair.

They he And I

And, by his drugs, my rival fair
A saint in heaven should be.
But ill the dastard kept his oath,
Whose cowardice has undone us both.

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As hu Eren in

And bac

for wel

" I speak not to implore your grace;
Well know I for one minute's space

Successless might I sue:
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain;
For if a death of lingering pain
To cleanse my sins be penance vain,

Vain are your masses too.
I listened to a traitor's tale,
I left the convent and the veil;
For three long years I bow'd my pride,
A horse-boy in his train to ride;
And well my folly's meed he gave,
Who forfeited, to be his slave,
All here, and all beyond the grave.
He saw young Clara's face more fair,
He knew her of broad lands the heir,
Forgot his vows, his faith forswore,
And Constance was beloved no more.
'Tis an old tale, and often told;

But, did my fate and wish agree,
Ne'er had been read, in story old,
Of maiden true betray'd for gold,

That loved, or was avenged like me!

“ And now my tongue the secret tells,
Not that remorse my bosom swells,
But to assure my soul that none
Shall ever wed with Marmion.
Had fortune my last hope betray'd,
This packet, to the king convey'd,
Had given him to the headsman's stroke,
Although my heart that instant broke.
Now, men of death, work forth your will,
For I can suffer and be still;
And come he slow, or come he fast,
It is but Death who comes at last.

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“ Yet dread me, from my living tomb,
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome!
If Marmion's late remorse should wake,
Full soon such vengeance will he take,
That you shall wish the fiery Dane
Had rather been your guest again.
Behind, a darker hour ascends!
The altars quake, the crosier bends,
The ire of a despotic King
Rides forth upon destruction's wing.
Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep,
Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep:
Some traveller then shall find my bones,
Whitening amid disjointed stones,
And, ignorant of priests' cruelty,
Marvel such relics here should be.”

CO Old Tha Kis Fea Sur

F

“ The King approved his favourite's aim;
In vain a rival barr'd his claim,

Whose faith with Clare's was plight,
For he attaints that rival's fame
With treason's chargeand on they came,
In mortal lists to fight.

Their oaths are said,
Their prayers are pray'd,

Their lances in the rest are laid,
They meet in mortal shock;
And hark! the throng, with thundering cry,
Shout “ Marmion, Marmion!” to the sky,

“ De Wilton to the block !" Say ye, who preach heaven shall decide, When in the lists two champions ride,

Say, was heaven's justice here? When, loyal in his love and faith, Wilton found overthrow or death,

Beneath a traitor's spear. How false the charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell"Then drew a packet from her breast, Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest.

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Fix'd was her look, and stern her air;
Back from her shoulders stream'd her hair;
The locks that wont her brows to shade,
Stared up erectly from her head;
Her figure seem'd to rise more high;
Her voice, despair's wild energy
Had given a tone of prophecy.
Appallid the astonished conclave sate;
With stupid eyes, the men of fate
Gazed on the light inspired form,
And listen’d for the avenging storm;
The judges felt the victim's dread;
No hand was moved, no word was said,
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given,
Raising his sightless balls to heaven:-
“ Sister, let thy sorrows cease ;
Sinful brother, part in peace!"-

From that dire dungeon, place of doom,
Of execution too, and tomb,

Paced forth the judges three;

“ Still was false Marmion's bridal staid; To Whitby's convent fled the maid,

The hated match to shun. " Ho! shifts she thus?' king Henry cried, • Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride,

If she were sworn a nun.'
One way remained—the king's command
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land:
I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd

For Clara and for me:
This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear
He would to Whitby's shrine repair,

Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell
The butcher-work that there befell,
When they had glided from the cell

Of sia and misery.
An hundred winding steps convey
That conclave to the upper day:

They heard the slıriekings of despair,

While, reverent, all made room. And many a stifled groan:

An easy task it was, I trow, With speed their upward way they take,

King James's manly form to know, (Such speed as age and sear can make,)

Although, his courtesy to show, And cross'd themselves for terror's sake,

He doff'd, to Marmion bending low, As hurrying, tottering on,

His broider'd cap and plume. Even in the vesper's heavenly tone,

For royal were his garb and mien, They seem'd to hear a dying groan,

His cloak of crimson velvet piled, And bade the passing knell to toll

Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild; For welfare of a parting soul.

His vest of changeful satin sheen Slow o'er the inidnight wave it swung,

The dazzled eye beguiled; Northumbrian rocks in answer rung;

His gorgeous collar hung adown, To Warkworth cell the echoes roll'd,

Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, His beads the wakeful hermit told;

The thistle brave, of old renown; The Bamborough peasant raised his head,

His trusty blade, Toledo right, But slept ere half a prayer he said;

Descended from a baldric bright; So far was heard the mighty knell,

White were his buskins, on the heel The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell,

His spurs inlaid of gold and steel; Spread his broad nostril to the wind,

His bonnet, all of crimson fair, Listed before, aside, behind,

Was button'd with a ruby rare: Then couch'd him down beside the hind,

And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen And quaked among the mountain fern,

A prince of such a noble mien. To hear that sound, so dull and sterd.

The Monarch's form was middle size;

For feat of strength, or exercise, COURT OF JAMES OF SCOTLAND.

Shaped in proportion fair;

And hazle was his eagle eye, Old Holy-Rood rung merrily

And auburn of the darkest dye That night, with wassal, mirth, and glee:

His short curled beard and hair. King James within her princely bower

Light was his footstep in the dance, Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power,

And firm his stirrup in the lists;
Summon’d to spend the parting hour;

And, oh! he had that merry glance
For he had charged, that his array

That seldom lady's heart resists.
Should southward march by break of day. Lightly from fair to fair he flew,
Well loved that splendid monarch aye

And loved to plead, lament, and sue;-
The banquet and the song,

Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain,
By day the tourney, and by night

For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
The merry dance, traced fast and light,

I said he joy'd in banquet-bower;
The masquers quaint, the pageant bright,

But, mid his mirth, 'twas often strange,
The revel loud and long.

How suddenly his cheer would change,
This feast outshone his banquets past;

His look o'ercast and lower,
It was his blithest, and his last.

If, in a sudden turn he felt
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay,

The pressure of his iron belt, Cast on the court a dancing ray;

That bound his breast in penance pain, Here to the harp did minstrels sing;

In memory of his father slain. There ladies touch'd a softer string;

Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, With long-ear'd cap, and motley vest,

Soon as the passing pang was o'er, The licensed fool retail'd his jest;

Forward he rush'd, with double glee, His magic tricks the juggler plied;

Into the stream of revelry:
At dice and draughts the gallants vied ;

Thus, dim-seen object of affright
While some, iu close recess apart,

Startles the courser in his flight,
Courted the ladies of their heart,

And half he halts, half springs aside;
Nor courted them in vain;

But feels the quickening spur applied, For often, in the parting hour,

And, straining on the tighten'd rein, Victorious love asserts his power

Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain.
O'er coldness and disdain ;

O'er James's heart, the courtiers say,
And flinty is her heart, can view
To battle march a lover true-

Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway:

To Scotland's court she came,
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu,
Nor own her share of pain.

To be a hostage for her lord,

Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored,
Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game And with the King to make accord,
The King to greet Lord Marmion came,

Had sent his lovely dame.

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Nor to that lady free alone
Did the gay King allegiance own;

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, (all:
For the fair Queen of France

Among bride's men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and
Sent him a turquois ring, and glove,

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, And charged him, as her knight and love,

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word) For her to break a lance;

O come ye in peace, or come ye in war,

Or to dance atour bridal, young Lord Lochiuvar?"-
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand,
And march three miles on southern land,

“I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied :And bid the banners of his band

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
In English breezes dance.

And now am I come, with tbis lost love of mine,
And thus, for France's Queen he drest

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. His manly limbs in mailed vest;

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, And thus admitted English fair

That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." His inmost counsels still to share ;

The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it

up, And thus, for both, he madly plann'd

He quaff’d off the wine, and he threw down the cup

.
The ruin of himself and land!

She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
And yet, the sooth to tell,

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen,

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
Were worth one pearl-drop bright and sheen,

“ Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar.
From Margaret's eyes that fell,-

So stately his form, and so lovely his face, His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower,

That never a hall such a galliard did grace; All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile,

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
And weeps the weary day,

plume;

[by far The war against her native soil,

And the bride-maidens whisper, “ 'Twere better Her Monarch's risk in battle broil ;

To have match'd our fair cousin with young Loch

invar."
And in gay Holy-Rood, the while,
Dame Heron rises with a smile

Onc touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
Upon the harp to play.

When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger
Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er

stood near; The strings her fingers flew;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, And as she touch'd and tuned them all,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung! Ever her bosom's rise and fall

“ She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and Was plainer given to view;

scaur;

(Lochinvar. For all, for heat, was laid aside

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
Her wimple, and her hood untied.
And first she pitch'd her voice to sing,

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby
clan;

(they rao:
Then glanced her dark eye on the King,
And then around the silent ring;

Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and And laugh’d, and blush'd, and oft did say

There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
Her pretty oath, by yea, and nay,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see,
She could not, would not, durst not play! So daring in love, and so dauntiess in war,
At length, upon the harp, with glee,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar!
Mingled with arch simplicity,

The Monarch o'er the syren hung, A soft yet lively air she rung,

And beat the measure as she sung; While thus the wily lady sung.

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And, pressing closer, and more near,
He whisper'd praises in her ear.
In loud applause the courtiers vied;
And ladies wink’d, and spoke aside.
The witching dame to Marmion threw

A glance, where seemd to reign
The pride that claims applauses due,
And of her royal conquest, too,

A real or feign'd disdain :
Familiar was the look, and told,
Marmion and she were friends of old.

LOCHINVAR.

Lady Heron's Song.
0, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ;
And save his good broad-sword he weapons had
He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone. (none,
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;
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.

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THE BATTLE.
And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,

Since England gains the pass the while,

Headmost of all he stems the tide, And struggles through the deep defile?

And stems it gallantly. What checks the fiery soul of James ?

Eustace held Clare upon her horse, Why sits that champion of the dames

Old Hubert led her rein, Inactive on bis steed,

Stoutly they braved the current's course, And sees, between him and his land,

And though far downward driven per force, Between him and Tweed's southern strand,

The southern bank they gain;
His host Lord Surrey lead?

Behind them, straggling, came to shore,
What vails the vain knight-errant's brand?

As best they might, the train : -0, Douglas, for thy leading wand!

Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!

A caution not in vain;
O for one hour of Wallace wight,

Deep need that day that every string, Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight,

By wet unharm’d, should sharply ring. And cry—“ Saint Andrew and our right!"

A moment then Lord Marmion staid, Another sight had seen that morn,

And breath'd his steed, his men array’d, From fate's dark book a leaf been torn,

Then forward moved his band, And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne!

Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, The precious hour has pass'd in vain,

He halted by a cross of stone, And England's host has gain’d the plain;

That, on a hillock standing lone, Wheeling their march, and circling still,

Did all the field command. Around the base of Flodden-hill.

Hence might they see the full array Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye,

Of either host, for deadly fray; Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,

Their marshall'd lines stretch'd east and west Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!

And fronted north and south, And see ascending squadrons come

And distant salutation past Between Tweed's river and the hill,

From the loud cannon mouth; Foot, horse, and cannon:-hap what hap,

Not in the close successive rattle, My basnet to a prentice cap,

That breathes the voice of modern attle, Lord Surrey's o'er the Till!

But slow and far between.Yet more! yet more!-how fair array'd

The hillock gain'd, Lord Marmion staid: They file from out the hawthorn shade,

“ Here, by this cross," he gently said, And sweep so gallant by!

You well may view the scene.
With all their banners bravely spread,

Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:
And all their armour flashing high,

0! think of Marmion in thy prayer! Saint George might waken from the dead,

Thou wilt not ?- well,-no less my care To see fair England's standards fly.”—

Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.-“Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount; “thou'dst best, You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard, And listen to our lord's behest."

With ten pick'd archers of my train; With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,

With England if the day go hard, “ This instant be our band array’d;

To Berwick speed amain. The river must be quickly crossid,

But, if we conquer, cruel maid ! That we may join Lord Surrey's host.

My spoil shall at your feet be laid, If fight King James,—as well I trust,

When here we meet again.”That fight he will, and fight he must,

He waited not for answer there, The Lady Clare behind our lines

And would not mark the maid's despair, Shall tarry, while the battle joins.”—

Nor heed the discontented look

From either squire; but spurr'd amain, Himself he swift on horseback threw,

And, dashing through the battle-plain,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu,
Far less would listen to his prayer,

His way to Surrey took.
To leave behind the helpless Clare.

“The good Lord Marmion, by my life! Down to the Tweed his band he drew,

Welcome to danger's hour!And mutter'd as the flood they view,

Short greeting serves in time of strife;“ The pheasant in the falcon's claw,

Thus have I ranged my power: He scarce will yield to please a daw :

Myself will rule this central host,
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,

Stout Stanley fronts their right,
So Clare shall bide with me."

My sons command the vaward post,
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep,

Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, He ventured desperately: .

Shall be in rearward of the fight, And not a moment will he bide,

And succour those that need it most. Till squire, or groom, before him ride;

Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,

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Where play'd, with many-colour'd gleams,

Through storied pane the rising beams.

Would gladly to the vanguard go; Edmund, the admiral, Tunstall there,

Wide raged the battle on the plain ; With thee their charge will blithely share;

Spears shook, and faulchions flash'd amain; There fight thine own retainers too,

Fell England's arrow-light like rain; Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”

Crest rose, and stoop'd, and rose again,

Wild and disorderly. “ Thanks, noble Surrey!” Marmion said,

Amid the scene of tumult, high Nor further greeting there he paid;

They saw Lord Marmion's falcon Aly: But, parting like a thunderbolt,

And stainless Tunstall's banner white, First in the vanguard made a halt,

And Edmund Howard's lion bright, Where such a shout there rose

Still bear them bravely in the fight: Of “ Marmion! Marmion!" that the cry

Although against them come, Up Flodden mountain shrilling high,

Of gallant Gordons many a one, Startled the Scottish foes.

And many a stubborn Highlandman, Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still

And many a rugged border clan,
With Lady Clare upon the hill;

With Huntley, and with Home.
On which, (for far the day was spent.)
The western sunbeams now were bent.

THE DEATH OF RODERICK DHU-
The cry they heard, its meaning knew,
Could plain their distant comrades view;

THE CONCLUSION.
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,

Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew “ Unworthy office here to stay!

His parting breath, stout Rhoderick Dhu! No hope of gilded spurs to-day.

Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast, But, see! look up-on Flodden bent

While grim and still his spirit pass'd; The Scottish foe has fired his tent."

But when he saw that life was fled,
And sudden, as he spoke,

He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead.
From the sharp ridges of the hill,
All downward to the banks of Till,

LAMENT.
Was wreath'd in sable smoke;

“ And art thou cold and lowly laid, Volumed and vast, and rolling far,

Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,

Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! As down the hill they broke;

For thee shall none a requiem say? Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,

- For thee,—who loved the minstrel's lay, Announced their march; their tread alone,

For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, At times one warning trumpet blown,

The shelter of her exiled line, At times a stifled hum,

E'en in this prison-house of thine,
Told England, from his mountain-throne

I'll wail for Alpine's honour'd pine!
King James did rushing come.“
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,

“ What groans shall yonder vallies fill! Until at weapon-point they close.

What shrieks of grief shall rend yon bill! They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,

What tears of burning rage shall thrill, With sword-sway, and with lances thrust;

When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, And such a yell was there,

Thy fall before the race was won, Of sudden and portentous birth,

Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun!
As if men fought upon the earth,

There breathes not clansman of thy line,
And fiends in upper air;
O life and death were in the shout,
Recoil and rally, charge and rout,

And triumph and despair.
Long look'd the anxious squires; their eye
Could in the darkness nought descry.
At length the freshening western blast
Aside the shroud of battle cast;
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears
Above the brightening cloud appears;
And in the smoke the pennons flew,
As in the storm the white sea-mew.
Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war,
And plumed crests of chieftains brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave;

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But would have given his life for thine.-
O woe for Alpine's honour'd pine !
“ Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!
The captive thrush may brook the cage,
The prison'd eagle dies for rage.
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!
And, when its notes awake again,
Even she, so long beloved in vain,
Shall with my harp her voice combine,
And mix her woe and tears with mine,
To wail Clan-Alpine's honoured pine."-
Ellen, the while, with bursting heart,
Remain'd in lordly bower apart,

TE
T
IL

A S T

But nought distinct they see:

In vain on gilded roof they fall,

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