Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; IX. 'Tis meet that I should tell you now, Stood in the Castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepar'd: Enter'd the train, and such a clang, As then through all his turrets rang, X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanc'd, A blithe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court, "Welcome to Norham, Marmion ! Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 20 10 10 XI. Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, By which you reach the donjon gate, They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, And he, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight, All as he lighted down. "Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Knight of the crest of gold! A blazon'd shield, in battle won, Ne'er guarded heart so bold." XII. They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, "Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, In the lists at Cottiswold: There vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; To him he lost his lady-love, And to the King his land. Ourselves beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair ; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 10 10 We saw the victor win the crest Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquer'd in the right, XIII. Then stepp'd, to meet that noble Lord, Sir Hugh the Heron bold, He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, "How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all Stout Willimondswick, And Hardriding Dick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw.” The harper's barbarous lay ; Yet much he praised the pains he took, For lady's suit and minstrel's strain, XIV. "Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy, B 20 10 20 I pray you bide some little space, In this poor tower with me. Here may you keep your arms from rust, Or feat of arms befell: The Scots can rein a mettled steed, XV. The Captain mark'd his alter'd look, A mighty wassel-bowl he took, And crown'd it high with wine. "Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion : Where hast thou left that page of thine, Whose beauty was so rare? When last in Raby towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often mark'd his cheeks were wet With tears he fain would hide ; His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, But meeter seem'd for lady fair, Or through embroidery, rich and rare, 10 10 The slender silk to lead : Say, hast thou given that lovely youth Or was the gentle page, in sooth, XVI. Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest ; With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, "That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, I left him sick in Lindisfarne : XVII. Unmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, Delights in cage to bide: Norham is grim and grated close, Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, And many a darksome tower; |