And, if thou meet'st them under shield, Upon them bravely - do thy worst, And foul fall him that blenches first!'

XIII.

Not far advanced was morning day
When Marmion did his troop array

To Surrey's camp to ride;
He had safe-conduct for his band
Beneath the royal seal and hand,
And Douglas gave a guide.
The ancient earl with stately grace
Would Clara on her palfrey place,
And whispered in an undertone,
Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.'
The train from out the castle drew,
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu :
Though something I might plain,' he
said,

Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest,

While in Tantallon's towers I stayed,

Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble earl, receive my hand.' -
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :-
'My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open at my sovereign's will
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation-stone-
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion clasp.'

XIV.

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire And shook his very frame for ire,

XV.

The steed along the drawbridge flies
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Not lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim:

And when Lord Marmion reached his band,

He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
Horse! horse!' the Douglas cried, and
chase!'

But soon he reined his fury's pace:

A royal messenger he came,

Though most unworthy of the name. —

'Bold can he speak and fairly ride, I warrant him a warrior tried.' With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle halls.

XVI.

The day in Marmion's journey wore ;
Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er,
They crossed the heights of Stanrig-moor.
His troop more closely there he scanned,
And missed the Palmer from the band.
'Palmer or not,' young Blount did say,
'He parted at the peep of day;
Good sooth, it was in strange array.'
In what array?' said Marmion quick.
My lord, I ill can spell the trick;

But all night long with clink and bang
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
And from a loophole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the keep,
Wrapped in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
A rusty shirt of mail I spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work
Against the Saracen and Turk :
Last night it hung not in the hall;.
I thought some marvel would befall.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the earl's best steed,
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt in his paces, cool and bold.
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say
The earl did much the Master pray
To use him on the battle-day,
But he preferred'' Nay, Henry, cease!
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace.
Eustace, thou bear'st a brain - I
pray,
What did Blount see at break of day?"

XVII.

In brief, my lord, we both descriedFor then I stood by Henry's sideThe Palmer mount and outwards ride Upon the earl's own favorite steed. All sheathed he was in armor bright, And much resembled that same knight Subdued by you in Cotswold fight;

Lord Angus wished him speed.'
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke,
A sudden light on Marmion broke:
'Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!'
He muttered; T was nor fay nor ghost
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.

O dotage blind and gross!
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust,
My path no more to cross.

How stand we now? - he told his tale
To Douglas, and with some avail:

'T was therefore gloomed his rugged brow.

Will Surrey dare to entertain 'Gainst Marmion charge disproved and vain?

Small risk of that, I trow.

Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun.
Must separate Constance from the nun-
Oh! what a tangled web we weave
When first we practise to deceive!
A Palmer too!- no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye;

I might have known there was but one
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion.

XVIII.

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed

His troop, and reached at eve the Tweed.
Where Lennel's convent closed their march.
There now is left but one frail arch,

Yet mourn thou not its cells;
Our time a fair exchange has made:
Hard by, in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells,

Well worth the whole Bernardine brood
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood. -
Yet did Saint Bernard's abbot there
Give Marmion entertainment fair,
And lodging for his train and Clare.
Next morn the baron climbed the tower,
To view afar the Scottish power,

Encamped on Flodden edge;
The white pavilions made a show
Like remnants of the winter snow

Along the dusky ridge.

Long Marmion looked:- at length his eye Unusual movement might descry

Amid the shifting lines;

The Scottish host drawn out appears,
For, flashing on the hedge of spears,

The eastern sunbeam shines.

Their front now deepening, now extending. Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending. Now drawing back, and now descending, The skilful Marmion well could know They watched the motions of some foe Who traversed on the plain below.

XIX.

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge
The Scots beheld the English host
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post.
And heedful watched them as they crossed
The Till by Twisel Bridge.

High sight it is and haughty, while
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,

And all their armor flashing high, Saint George might waken from the dead, To see fair England's standards fly.' 'Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount,' thou 'dst best,

And listen to our lord's behest.'-
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,
This instant be our band arrayed;
The river must be quickly crossed,
That we may join Lord Surrey's host.
If fight King James, as well I trust

That fight he will, and fight he must, -
The Lady Clare behind our lines
Shall tarry while the battle joins.'

XXII.

Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the abbot bade adieu,
Far less would listen to his prayer
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And muttered as the flood they view,
The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw;
Lord Angus may the abbot awe,

So Clare shall bide with me.'
Then on that dangerous ford and deep
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep
He ventured desperately:
And not a moment will he bide
Till squire or groom before him ride;
Headmost of all he stems the tide,
And stems it gallantly.

Eustace held Clare upon her horse,

Old Hubert led her rein,

Stoutly they braved the current's course, And, though far downward driven perforce, The southern bank they gain.

Behind them straggling came to shore,
As best they might, the train:
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,
A caution not in vain;

Deep need that day that every string,
By wet unharmed, should sharply ring.
A moment then Lord Marmion stayed,
And breathed his steed, his men arrayed.
Then forward moved his band,
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won,
He halted by a cross of stone,
That on a hillock standing lone
Did all the field command.

XXIII.

Hence might they see the full array
Of either host for deadly fray;

Their marshalled lines stretched east and west,

And fronted north and south, And distant salutation passed

From the loud cannon mouth; Not in the close successive rattle That breathes the voice of modern battle, But slow and far between.

The hillock gained, Eord Marmion stayed: 'Here, by this cross,' he gently said,

'You well may view the scene.
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:
Oh! think of Marmion in thy prayer!-
Thou wilt not?-well, no less my care
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare..
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten picked archers of my train;
With England if the day go hard,

To Berwick speed amain.-
But if we conquer, cruel maid,
My spoils shall at your feet be laid,
When here we meet again.'

He waited not for answer there,
And would not mark the maid's despair,
Nor heed the discontent-