Warm'd by such names, well may we then. Though dwindled sons of little men, Essay to break a feeble lance

In the fair fields of old romance;
Or seek the moated castle's cell,
Where long through talisman and spell,
While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept,
Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept :
There sound the harpings of the North,
Till he awake and sally forth,
On venturous quest to prick again,
In all his arms, with all his train,1

Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf,

Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwarf,
And wizard with his wand of might,
And errant maid on palfrey white.
Around the Genius weave their spells,
Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells;
Mystery, half veil'd and half reveal'd;
And Honour, with his spotless shield;
Attention, with fix'd eye; and Fear,
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear;
And gentle Courtesy; and Faith,
Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death;
And Valour, lion-mettled lord,
Leaning upon his own good sword.

[In the MS. the rest of the passage stands as follows

charms,

Around him wait with all their cells,

Pure Love which

Virtue only warms;
scarce his passion tells;

Mystery, half seen and half conceal'd;
And Honour, with unspotted shield;
Attention, with fix'd eye; and Fear,
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear
And gentle Courtesy, and Faith,
And Valour that dospises death."

Well has thy fair achievement shown,
A worthy meed may thus be won ;
Ytene's1 oaks beneath whose shade
Their theme the merry minstrels made,
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold,2

And that Red King, who, while of old,
Through Boldrewood the chase he led,
By his loved huntsman's arrow bled—
Ytene's oaks have heard again
Renew'd such legendary strain;
For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul,
That Amadis so famed in hall,
For Oriana, foil'd in fight

The Necromancer's felon might;

And well in modern verse hast wove
Partenopex's mystic love :4

Hear, then, attentive to my lay,

A knightly tale of Albion's elder day.

The New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called.

2 See Appendix, Note D.

3 William Rufus.

4 [Partenopex de Blois, a poem, by W. S. Rose, Esq., was pub Ifshed in 1808.--ED.?

MARMION.

CANTO FIRST.

The Castle.

I.

DAY set on Norham's castled steep,'
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone :
The battled towers, the donjon keep,2
The loophole grates, where captives weep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow lustre shone.3

The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,1
Seem'd forms of giant height:
Their armour, as it caught the rays,

1 See Appendix, Note E.

2 See Appendix, Note F.

[In the MS. the first line has "hoary keep," the fourth: "donjon steep," the seventh "ruddy lustre."]

[MS" Eastern sky."]

Flash'd back again the western blaze,
In lines of dazzling light.

II.

Saint George's banner, broad and gay
Now faded, as the fading ray

Less bright, and less, was flung;
The evening gale had scarce the power
To wave it on the Donjon Tower,
So heavily it hung.

The scouts had parted on their search,
The Castle gates were barred;

Above the gloomy portal arch,
Timing his footsteps to a march,
The Warder kept his guard;
Low humming, as he paced along,
Some ancient Border gathering song.

III.

A distant trampling sound he hears
He looks abroad, and soon appears
O'er Horncliff-hill a plump2 of spears
Beneath a pennon gay;

A horseman darting from the crowd,
Like lightning from a summer cloud,
Spurs on his mettled courser proud,
Before the dark array.

Beneath the sable palisade,

That closed the Castle barricade,

1 [MS.-" Evening blaze."]

This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl; but

is applied, by analogy, to a body of horse.

"There is a knight of the North Country,

Which leads a lusty plump of spears."

Flodden Field

His bugle-horn he blew;
The warder hasted from the wall,

And warn'd the Captain in the hall,
For well the blast he knew:
And joyfully that knight did call,
To sewer, squire, and seneschal.

IV.

"Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, Bring pasties of the doe,

And quickly make the entrance free,
And bid my heralds ready be,
And every minstrel sound his glee,
And all our trumpets blow;
And, from the platform, spare ye not
To fire a noble salvo-shot;1

Lord MARMION waits below!"
Then to the Castle's lower ward
Sped forty yeomen tall,
The iron-studded gates unbarr'd,
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard

The lofty palisade unsparr'd,

And let the drawbridge fall.

V.

Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, Proudly his red-roan charger trode, His helm hung at the saddlebow; Well by his visage you might know He was a stalwart knight, and keen, And had in many a battle been ;

[M8.-"A welcome shot."