Marmion: Canto Vi. - The Battle Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDEFFGGHHIIJJKKLL HHMM A NNHHAAHHOOPQHHRRSSSF FFTTRRUUKKKVV A HHHAKKKAFFFFBBFWIRRX XXFFYDZYA2A2FLLFB2RR HFFFH C2 KKHHD2D2RRD2D2HHHAAF FRRFFUUKKE2E2F2F2G2H 2 D2 I2GJ2J2J2I2GK2L2L2GV PM2N2O2O2P2Q2R2R2FFH IHHHHISSOOWIAA A D2 GGRWRWHFFHWWWGGHHXXH S2S2UIIUT2T2U2VQQQFQ FD2AH2H2 A FFFQQQFV2V2QQJQQW2X2 X2W2QQY2Z2Z2A3 A FABQQBQFQFFFFQQQFAAF FFW2W2Z2Z2B3QQB3QQ X2 QQQQQFFQQFFX2X2X2FFF FQQ X2 FFQQFFC3C3FFFFFQQFFF W2FFW2D3D3D3W2 X2 GGFFE3QQE3X2X2FAFFQQ QQQAX2F3F3QQQQBBQQFF FQFQFA2A2 X2 X2X2QQFQQFQQQFFQX2X2 G3X2G3QQFX2X2FQQQQ X2 FFQQQQX2X2FFFFQQQQQQ H3H3I3I3FFFFFJ3J3 A FFQQQQFFQQFQFQQQFFFQ F3F3FFE3X2X2X2E3QQK3 K3L3L3 A X2X2A2A2QQX2X2X2X2W2 W2QQI3I3FFI3I3QQQQQQ X2X2 A FFFQQFFFM3M3N3N3N3NN FFQQO3O3E3E3QQQQFFFX 2X2FF A FFFFFFFFH3H3FFFFX2FF X2BBFFFX2FFAAAAFF A FFP3P3X2FFX2FFFFFFFQ 3X2X2 R3AFX2X2X2X2SSSX2X2X 2 X2 R3FFFR3S3S3S3S3FSSFF S3FFS3P3P3S3N3N3T3T3 FFL3L3 F FFS3S3FFFFFFFFFFFFFF FFFS3S3 F AAU3U3S3V3V3S3FFAFAF AFFFFFFFFFF F FFFFFFS3S3W3FNNFFFFF FFFFFFFFFSSFFFFFFF F FFFX3FX3S3S3FFFFFFFF FFFFFFFFFYFFY F FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF FFAAF A S3S3FFFFFFFFFH3S3S3H 3FFH3FFFU3FU3FFFFFT2 T2FFFFAF F FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF FU3FFFY3 F S3S3FFFFFFFS3FFS3FFF FFS3S3FFFFFFFFFZ3Z3F FFFFFFFFFFFFFF F FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF FFFFFFFF F FFFFFFFFFSSX2FFFFFFF FFFFFFFFSSF F FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFA4S 3A4S3FFFS3FFFFFF F FFFFFFFFFS3S3S3S3FFF FFFFFFFFFFFFFB4B4 F FFFFFFFK3SSK3FFFFFFF FS3S3FFFFFFFF F S3S3SSSY3FFU3FFFFFFF FFFFFFFFFFFFF F C4D4FFNNSFFFSFFFS3FF FS3SSFFFFFFFFFFP3FP3 FS3S3S3E2E2FFFFF F FFFFS3FFFFFFFFFFFFFF FF F FFS3S3FFYYYFFFFFP3P3 FFFFFFS3S3FFFFFL3L3 F P3P3S3FS3S3FS3S3FFFF P3P3FFFS3S3E2E2FFL3L 3FF F FFFFFFFFS3S3FFFFFFFF FFH3H3FFFFFF F E2E2FFFFFFFFFFFFF3F3 FFFFF

IA
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While great events were on the galeB
And each hour brought a varying taleB
And the demeanour changed and coldC
Of Douglas fretted Marmion boldC
And like the impatient steed of warD
He snuffed the battle from afarE
And hopes were none that back againF
Herald should come from TerouenneF
Where England's king in leaguer layG
Before decisive battle dayG
Whilst these things were the mournful ClareH
Did in the dame's devotions shareH
For the good countess ceaseless prayedI
To Heaven and saints her sons to aidI
And with short interval did passJ
From prayer to book from book to massJ
And all in high baronial prideK
A life both dull and dignifiedK
Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressedL
Upon her intervals of restL
Dejected Clara well could bearH
The formal state the lengthened prayerH
Though dearest to her wounded heartM
The hours that she might spend apartM
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IIA
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I said Tantallon's dizzy steepN
Hung o'er the margin of the deepN
Many a rude tower and rampart thereH
Repelled the insult of the airH
Which when the tempest vexed the skyA
Half breeze half spray came whistling byA
Above the rest a turret squareH
Did o'er its Gothic entrance bearH
Of sculpture rude a stony shieldO
The bloody heart was in the fieldO
And in the chief three mullets stoodP
The cognisance of Douglas bloodQ
The turret held a narrow stairH
Which mounted gave you access whereH
A parapet's embattled rowR
Did seaward round the castle goR
Sometimes in dizzy steps descendingS
Sometimes in narrow circuit bendingS
Sometimes in platform broad extendingS
Its varying circle did combineF
Bulwark and bartisan and lineF
And bastion tower and vantage coignF
Above the booming ocean leantT
The far projecting battlementT
The billows burst in ceaseless flowR
Upon the precipice belowR
Where'er Tantallon faced the landU
Gateworks and walls were strongly mannedU
No need upon the sea girt sideK
The steepy rock and frantic tideK
Approach of human step deniedK
And thus these lines and ramparts rudeV
Were left in deepest solitudeV
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IIIA
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And for they were so lonely ClareH
Would to these battlements repairH
And muse upon her sorrows thereH
And list the sea bird's cryA
Or slow like noontide ghost would glideK
Along the dark grey bulwark's sideK
And ever on the heaving tideK
Look down with weary eyeA
Oft did the cliff and swelling mainF
Recall the thoughts of Whitby's faneF
A home she ne'er might see againF
For she had laid adownF
So Douglas bade the hood and veilB
And frontlet of the cloister paleB
And Benedictine gownF
It were unseemly sight he saidW
A novice out of convent shadeI
Now her bright locks with sunny glowR
Again adorned her brow of snowR
Her mantle rich whose borders roundX
A deep and fretted broidery boundX
In golden foldings sought the groundX
Of holy ornament aloneF
Remained a cross with ruby stoneF
And often did she lookY
On that which in her hand she boreD
With velvet bound and broidered o'erZ
Her breviary bookY
In such a place so lone so grimA2
At dawning pale or twilight dimA2
It fearful would have beenF
To meet a form so richly dressedL
With book in hand and cross on breastL
And such a woeful mienF
Fitz Eustace loitering with his bowB2
To practise on the gull and crowR
Saw her at distance gliding slowR
And did by Mary swearH
Some lovelorn fay she might have beenF
Or in romance some spell bound queenF
For ne'er in work day world was seenF
A form so witching fairH
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IVC2
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Once walking thus at evening tideK
It chanced a gliding sail she spiedK
And sighing thought The Abbess thereH
Perchance does to her home repairH
Her peaceful rule where Duty freeD2
Walks hand in hand with CharityD2
Where oft Devotion's tranced glowR
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestowR
That the enraptured sisters seeD2
High vision and deep mysteryD2
The very form of Hilda fairH
Hovering upon the sunny airH
And smiling on her votaries' prayerH
Oh wherefore to my duller eyeA
Did still the saint her form denyA
Was it that seared by sinful scornF
My heart could neither melt nor burnF
Or lie my warm affections lowR
With him that taught them first to glowR
Yet gentle Abbess well I knewF
To pay thy kindness grateful dueF
And well could brook the mild commandU
That ruled thy simple maiden bandU
How different now condemned to bideK
My doom from this dark tyrant's prideK
But Marmion has to learn ere longE2
That constant mind and hate of wrongE2
Descended to a feeble girlF2
From Red De Clare stout Gloucester's EarlF2
Of such a stem a sapling weakG2
He ne'er shall bend although he breakH2
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VD2
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But see what makes this armour hereI2
For in her path there layG
Targe corslet helm she viewed them nearJ2
The breast plate pierced Ay much I fearJ2
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spearJ2
That hath made fatal entrance hereI2
As these dark blood gouts sayG
Thus Wilton Oh not corslet's wardK2
Not truth as diamond pure and hardL2
Could be thy manly bosom's guardL2
On yon disastrous dayG
She raised her eyes in mournful moodV
Wilton himself before her stoodP
It might have seemed his passing ghostM2
For every youthful grace was lostN2
And joy unwonted and surpriseO2
Gave their strange wildness to his eyesO2
Expect not noble dames and lordsP2
That I can tell such scene in wordsQ2
What skilful limner e'er would chooseR2
To paint the rainbow's varying huesR2
Unless to mortal it were givenF
To dip his brush in dyes of heavenF
Far less can my weak line declareH
Each changing passion's shadeI
Bright'ning to rapture from despairH
Sorrow surprise and pity thereH
And joy with her angelic airH
And hope that paints the future fairH
Their varying hues displayedI
Each o'er its rival's ground extendingS
Alternate conquering shifting blendingS
Till all fatigued the conflict yieldO
And mighty Love retains the fieldO
Shortly I tell what then he saidW
By many a tender word delayedI
And modest blush and bursting sighA
And question kind and fond replyA
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VIA
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DE WILTON'S HISTORYD2
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Forget we that disastrous dayG
When senseless in the lists I layG
Thence dragged but how I cannot knowR
For sense and recollection fledW
I found me on a pallet lowR
Within my ancient beadsman's shedW
Austin remember'st thou my ClareH
How thou didst blush when the old manF
When first our infant love beganF
Said we would make a matchless pairH
Menials and friends and kinsmen fledW
From the degraded traitor's bedW
He only held my burning headW
And tended me for many a dayG
While wounds and fever held their swayG
But far more needful was his careH
When sense returned to wake despairH
For I did tear the closing woundX
And dash me frantic on the groundX
If e'er I heard the name of ClareH
At length to calmer reason broughtS2
Much by his kind attendance wroughtS2
With him I left my native strandU
And in a palmer's weeds arrayedI
My hated name and form to shadeI
I journeyed many a landU
No more a lord of rank and birthT2
But mingled with the dregs of earthT2
Oft Austin for my reason fearedU2
When I would sit and deeply broodV
On dark revenge and deeds of bloodQ
Or wild mad schemes uprearedQ
My friend at length fell sick and saidQ
God would remove him soonF
And while upon his dying bedQ
He begged of me a boonF
If e'er my deadliest enemyD2
Beneath my brand should conquered lieA
Even then my mercy should awakeH2
And spare his life for Austin's sakeH2
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VIIA
-
Still restless as a second CainF
To Scotland next my route was ta'enF
Full well the paths I knewF
Fame of my fate made various soundQ
That death in pilgrimage I foundQ
That I had perished of my woundQ
None cared which tale was trueF
And living eye could never guessV2
De Wilton in his palmer's dressV2
For now that sable slough is shedQ
And trimmed my shaggy beard and headQ
I scarcely know me in the glassJ
A chance most wondrous did provideQ
That I should be that baron's guideQ
I will not name his nameW2
Vengeance to God alone belongsX2
But when I think on all my wrongsX2
My blood is liquid flameW2
And ne'er the time shall I forgetQ
When in a Scottish hostel setQ
Dark looks we did exchangeY2
What were his thoughts I cannot tellZ2
But in my bosom mustered HellZ2
Its plans of dark revengeA3
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VIIIA
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A word of vulgar auguryF
That broke from me I scarce knew whyA
Brought on a village taleB
Which wrought upon his moody spriteQ
And sent him armed forth by nightQ
I borrowed steed and mailB
And weapons from his sleeping bandQ
And passing from a postern doorF
We met and countered hand to handQ
He fell on Gifford MoorF
For the death stroke my brand I drewF
Oh then my helmdd head he knewF
The palmer's cowl was goneF
Then had three inches of my bladeQ
The heavy debt of vengeance paidQ
My hand the thought of Austin stayedQ
I left him there aloneF
O good old man even from the graveA
Thy spirit could thy master saveA
If I had slain my foeman ne'erF
Had Whitby's Abbess in her fearF
Given to my hand this packet dearF
Of power to clear my injured fameW2
And vindicate De Wilton's nameW2
Perchance you heard the Abbess tellZ2
Of the strange pageantry of HellZ2
That broke our secret speechB3
It rose from the infernal shadeQ
Or featly was some juggle playedQ
A tale of peace to teachB3
Appeal to Heaven I judged was bestQ
When my name came among the restQ
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IXX2
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Now here within Tantallon HoldQ
To Douglas late my tale I toldQ
To whom my house was known of oldQ
Won by my proofs his falchion brightQ
This eve anew shall dub me knightQ
These were the arms that once did turnF
The tide of fight on OtterburneF
And Harry Hotspur forced to yieldQ
When the dead Douglas won the fieldQ
These Angus gave his armourer's careF
Ere morn shall every breach repairF
For naught he said was in his hallsX2
But ancient armour on the wallsX2
And aged chargers in the stallsX2
And women priests and grey haired menF
The rest were all in Twisel GlenF
And now I watch my armour hereF
By law of arms till midnight's nearF
Then once again a belted knightQ
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of lightQ
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XX2
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There soon again we meet my ClareF
This baron means to guide thee thereF
Douglas reveres his king's commandQ
Else would he take thee from his bandQ
And there thy kinsman Surrey tooF
Will give De Wilton justice dueF
Now meeter far for martial broilC3
Firmer my limbs and strung by toilC3
Once more O Wilton must we thenF
Risk new found happiness againF
Trust fate of arms once moreF
And is there not an humble glenF
Where we content and poorF
Might build a cottage in the shadeQ
A shepherd thou and I to aidQ
Thy task on dale and moorF
That reddening brow too well I knowF
Not even thy Clare can peace bestowF
While falsehood stains thy nameW2
Go then to fight Clare bids thee goF
Clare can a warrior's feelings knowF
And weep a warrior's shameW2
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feelD3
Buckle the spurs upon thy heelD3
And belt thee with thy brand of steelD3
And send thee forth to fameW2
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XIX2
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That night upon the rocks and bayG
The midnight moonbeam slumbering layG
And poured its silver light and pureF
Through loophole and through embrazureF
Upon Tantallon's tower and hallE3
But chief where arched windows wideQ
Illuminate the chapel's prideQ
The sober glances fallE3
Much was there need though seamed with scarsX2
Two veterans of the Douglas' warsX2
Though two grey priests were thereF
And each a blazing torch held highA
You could not by their blaze descryF
The chapel's carving fairF
Amid that dim and smoky lightQ
Chequering the silvery moonshine brightQ
A bishop by the altar stoodQ
A noble lord of Douglas bloodQ
With mitre sheen and rocquet whiteQ
Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eyeA
But little pride of prelacyX2
More pleased that in a barbarous ageF3
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's pageF3
Than that beneath his rule he heldQ
The bishopric of fair DunkeldQ
Beside him ancient Angus stoodQ
Doffed his furred gown and sable hoodQ
O'er his huge form and visage paleB
He wore a cap and shirt of mailB
And leaned his large and wrinkled handQ
Upon the huge and sweeping brandQ
Which wont of yore in battle frayF
His foeman's limbs to shred awayF
As wood knife lops the sapling sprayF
He seemed as from the tombs aroundQ
Rising at Judgment DayF
Some giant Douglas may be foundQ
In all his old arrayF
So pale his face so huge his limbA2
So old his arms his look so grimA2
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XIIX2
-
Then at the altar Wilton kneelsX2
And Clare the spurs bound on his heelsX2
And think what next he must have feltQ
At buckling of the falchion beltQ
And judge how Clara changed her hueF
While fastening to her lover's sideQ
A friend which though in danger triedQ
He once had found untrueF
Then Douglas struck him with his bladeQ
Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aidQ
I dub thee knightQ
Arise Sir Ralph De Wilton's heirF
For king for church for lady fairF
See that thou fightQ
And Bishop Gawain as he roseX2
Said Wilton grieve not for thy woesX2
Disgrace and troubleG3
For he who honour best bestowsX2
May give thee doubleG3
De Wilton sobbed for sob he mustQ
Where'er I meet a Douglas trustQ
That Douglas is my brotherF
Nay nay old Douglas said not soX2
To Surrey's camp thou now must goX2
Thy wrongs no longer smotherF
I have two sons in yonder fieldQ
And if thou meet'st them under shieldQ
Upon them bravely do thy worstQ
And foul fall him that blenches firstQ
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XIIIX2
-
Not far advanced was morning dayF
When Marmion did his troop arrayF
To Surrey's camp to rideQ
He had safe conduct for his bandQ
Beneath the royal seal and handQ
And Douglas gave a guideQ
The ancient earl with stately graceX2
Would Clara on her palfrey placeX2
And whispered in an under toneF
Let the hawk stoop his prey is flownF
The train from out the castle drewF
But Marmion stopped to bid adieuF
Though something I might plain he saidQ
Of cold respect to stranger guestQ
Sent hither by your king's behestQ
While in Tantallon's towers I stayedQ
Part we in friendship from your landQ
And noble earl receive my handQ
But Douglas round him drew his cloakH3
Folded his arms and thus he spokeH3
My manors halls and bowers shall stillI3
Be open at my sovereign's willI3
To each one whom he lists howe'erF
Unmeet to be the owner's peerF
My castles are my king's aloneF
From turret to foundation stoneF
The hand of Douglas is his ownF
And never shall in friendly graspJ3
The hand of such as Marmion claspJ3
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XIVA
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Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fireF
And shook his very frame for ireF
And This to me he saidQ
'An 'twere not for thy hoary headQ
Such hand as Marmion's had not sparedQ
To cleave the Douglas' headQ
And first I tell thee haughty peerF
He who does England's message hereF
Although the meanest in her stateQ
May well proud Angus be thy mateQ
And Douglas more I tell thee hereF
Even in thy pitch of prideQ
Here in thy hold thy vassals nearF
Nay never look upon your lordQ
And lay your hands upon your swordQ
I tell thee thou'rt defiedQ
And if thou said'st I am not peerF
To any lord in Scotland hereF
Lowland or Highland far or nearF
Lord Angus thou hast liedQ
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rageF3
O'ercame the ashen hue of ageF3
Fierce he broke forth And dar'st thou thenF
To beard the lion in his denF
The Douglas in his hallE3
And hop'st thou thence unscathed to goX2
No by Saint Bride of Bothwell noX2
Up drawbridge grooms what warder hoX2
Let the portcullis fallE3
Lord Marmion turned well was his needQ
And dashed the rowels in his steedQ
Like arrow through the archway sprungK3
The ponderous gate behind him rungK3
To pass there was such scanty roomL3
The bars descending razed his plumeL3
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XVA
-
The steed along the drawbridge fliesX2
Just as it trembled on the riseX2
Nor lighter does the swallow skimA2
Along the smooth lake's level brimA2
And when Lord Marmion reached his bandQ
He halts and turns with clenched handQ
And shout of loud defiance poursX2
And shook his gauntlet at the towersX2
Horse horse the Douglas cried and chaseX2
But soon he reined his fury's paceX2
A royal messenger he cameW2
Though most unworthy of the nameW2
A letter forged Saint Jude to speedQ
Did ever knight so foul a deedQ
At first in heart it liked me illI3
When the King praised his clerkly skillI3
Thanks to St Bothan son of mineF
Save Gawain ne'er could pen a lineF
So swore I and I swear it stillI3
Let my boy bishop fret his fillI3
Saint Mary mend my fiery moodQ
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas bloodQ
I thought to slay him where he stoodQ
'Tis pity of him too he criedQ
Bold can he speak and fairly rideQ
I warrant him a warrior triedQ
With this his mandate he recallsX2
And slowly seeks his castle hallsX2
-
XVIA
-
The day in Marmion's journey woreF
Yet ere his passion's gust was o'erF
They crossed the heights of Stanrig MoorF
His troop more closely there he scannedQ
And missed the Palmer from the bandQ
Palmer or not young Blount did sayF
He parted at the peep of dayF
Good sooth it was in strange arrayF
In what array said Marmion quickM3
My lord I ill can spell the trickM3
But all night long with clink and bangN3
Close to my couch did hammers clangN3
At dawn the falling drawbridge rangN3
And from a loophole while I peepN
Old Bell the Cat came from the keepN
Wrapped in a gown of sables fairF
As fearful of the morning airF
Beneath when that was blown asideQ
A rusty shirt of mail I spiedQ
By Archibald won in bloody workO3
Against the Saracen and TurkO3
Last night it hung not in the hallE3
I thought some marvel would befallE3
And next I saw them saddled leadQ
Old Cheviot forth the earl's best steedQ
A matchless horse though something oldQ
Prompt in his paces cool and boldQ
I heard the sheriff Sholto sayF
The earl did much the master prayF
To use him on the battle dayF
But he preferred Nay Henry ceaseX2
Thou sworn horse courser hold thy peaceX2
Eustace thou bear'st a brain I prayF
What did Blount see at break of dayF
-
XVIIA
-
In brief my lord we both descriedF
For then I stood by Henry's sideF
The Palmer mount and outwards rideF
Upon the earl's own favourite steedF
All sheathed he was in armour brightF
And much resembled that same knightF
Subdued by you in Cotswold fightF
Lord Angus wished him speedF
The instant that Fitz Eustace spokeH3
A sudden light on Marmion brokeH3
Ah dastard fool to reason lostF
He muttered 'Twas nor fay nor ghostF
I met upon the moonlight woldF
But living man of earthly mouldF
O dotage blind and grossX2
Had I but fought as wont one thrustF
Had laid De Wilton in the dustF
My path no more to crossX2
How stand we now he told his taleB
To Douglas and with some availB
'Twas therefore gloomed his rugged browF
Will Surrey dare to entertainF
'Gainst Marmion charge disproved and vainF
Small risk of that I trowX2
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shunF
Must separate Constance from the nunF
Oh what a tangled web we weaveA
When first we practise to deceiveA
A Palmer too no wonder whyA
I felt rebuked beneath his eyeA
I might have known there was but oneF
Whose look could quell Lord MarmionF
-
XVIIIA
-
Stung with these thoughts he urged to speedF
His troop and reached at eve the TweedF
Where Lennel's convent closed their marchP3
There now is left but one frail archP3
Yet mourn thou not its cellsX2
Our time a fair exchange has madeF
Hard by in hospitable shadeF
A reverend pilgrim dwellsX2
Well worth the whole Bernardine broodF
That e'er wore sandal frock or hoodF
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot thereF
Give Marmion entertainment fairF
And lodging for his train and ClareF
Next morn the baron climbed the towerF
To view afar the Scottish powerF
Encamped on Flodden edgeQ3
The white pavilions made a showX2
Like remnants of the winter snowX2
-
Along the dusky ridgeR3
Long Marmion looked at length his eyeA
Unusual movement might descryF
Amid the shifting linesX2
The Scottish host drawn out appearsX2
For flashing on the edge of spearsX2
The eastern sunbeam shinesX2
Their front now deepening now extendingS
Their flank inclining wheeling bendingS
Now drawing back and now descendingS
The skilful Marmion well could knowX2
They watched the motions of some foeX2
Who traversed on the plain belowX2
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XIXX2
-
Even so it was From Flodden ridgeR3
The Scots beheld the English hostF
Leave Barmore Wood their evening postF
And heedful watched them as they crossedF
The Till by Twisel BridgeR3
High sight it is and haughty whileS3
They dive into the deep defileS3
Beneath the caverned cliff they fallS3
Beneath the castle's airy wallS3
By rock by oak by hawthorn treeF
Troop after troop are disappearingS
Troop after troop their banners rearingS
Upon the eastern bank you seeF
Still pouring down the rocky denF
Where flows the sullen TillS3
And rising from the dim wood glenF
Standards on stardards men on menF
In slow succession stillS3
And sweeping o'er the Gothic archP3
And pressing on in ceaseless marchP3
To gain the opposing hillS3
That morn to many a trumpet clangN3
Twisel thy rocks deep echo rangN3
And many a chief of birth and rankT3
Saint Helen at thy fountain drankT3
Thy hawthorn glade which now we seeF
In spring tide bloom so lavishlyF
Had then from many an axe its doomL3
To give the marching columns roomL3
-
XXF
-
And why stands Scotland idly nowF
Dark Flodden on thy airy browF
Since England gains the pass the whileS3
And struggles through the deep defileS3
What checks the fiery soul of JamesF
Why sits that champion of the damesF
Inactive on his steedF
And sees between him and his landF
Between him and Tweed's southern strandF
His host Lord Surrey leadF
What 'vails the vain knight errant's brandF
Oh Douglas for thy leading wandF
Fierce Randolph for thy speedF
Oh for one hour of Wallace wightF
Or well skilled Bruce to rule the fightF
And cry Saint Andrew and our rightF
Another sight had seen that mornF
From Fate's dark book a leaf been tornF
And Flodden had been BannockbourneF
The precious hour has passed in vainF
And England's host has gained the plainF
Wheeling their march and circling stillS3
Around the base of Flodden HillS3
-
XXIF
-
Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eyeA
Fitz Eustace shouted loud and highA
Hark hark my lord an English drumU3
And see ascending squadrons comeU3
Between Tweed's river and the hillS3
Foot horse and cannon hap what hapV3
My basnet to a 'prentice capV3
Lord Surrey's o'er the TillS3
Yet more yet more how far arrayedF
They file from out the hawthorn shadeF
And sweep so gallant byA
With all their banners bravely spreadF
And all their armour flashing highA
Saint George might waken from the deadF
To see fair England's standards flyA
Stint in thy prate quoth Blount thou'dst bestF
And listen to our lord's behestF
With kindling brow Lord Marmion saidF
This instant be our band arrayedF
The river must be quickly crossedF
That we may join Lord Surrey's hostF
If fight King James as well I trustF
That fight he will and fight he mustF
The Lady Clare behind our linesF
Shall tarry while the battle joinsF
-
XXIIF
-
Himself he swift on horseback threwF
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieuF
Far less would listen to his prayerF
To leave behind the helpless ClareF
Down to the Tweed his band he drewF
And muttered as the flood they viewF
The pheasant in the falcon's clawS3
He scarce will yield to please a dawS3
Lord Angus may the Abbot aweW3
So Clare shall bide with meF
Then on that dangerous ford and deepN
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creepN
He ventured desperatelyF
And not a moment will he bideF
Till squire or groom before him rideF
Headmost of all he stems the tideF
And stems it gallantlyF
Eustace held Clare upon her horseF
Old Hubert led her reinF
Stoutly they braved the current's courseF
And though far downward driven per forceF
The southern bank they gainF
Behind them straggling came to shoreF
As best they might the trainF
Each o'er his head his yew bow boreF
A caution not in vainF
Deep need that day that every stringS
By wet unharmed should sharply ringS
A moment then Lord Marmion stayedF
And breathed his steed his men arrayedF
Then forward moved his bandF
Until Lord Surrey's rear guard wonF
He halted by a cross of stoneF
That on a hillock standing loneF
Did all the field commandF
-
XXIIIF
-
Hence might they see the full arrayF
Of either host for deadly frayF
Their marshalled lines stretched east and westF
And fronted north and southX3
And distant salutation passedF
From the loud cannon mouthX3
Not in the close successive rattleS3
That breathes the voice of modern battleS3
But slow and far betweenF
The hillock gained Lord Marmion stayedF
Here by this cross he gently saidF
You well may view the sceneF
Here shalt thou tarry lovely ClareF
Oh think of Marmion in thy prayerF
Thou wilt not well no less my careF
Shall watchful for thy weal prepareF
You Blount and Eustace are her guardF
With ten picked archers of my trainF
With England if the day go hardF
To Berwick speed amainF
But if we conquer cruel maidF
My spoils shall at your feet be laidF
When here we meet againF
He waited not for answer thereF
And would not mark the maid's despairF
Nor heed the discontented lookY
From either squire but spurred amainF
And dashing through the battle plainF
His way to Surrey tookY
-
XXIVF
-
The good Lord Marmion by my lifeF
Welcome to danger's hourF
Short greeting serves in time of strifeF
Thus have I ranged my powerF
Myself will rule this central hostF
Stout Stanley fronts their rightF
My sons command the vaward postF
With Brian Tunstall stainless knightF
Lord Dacre with his horsemen lightF
Shall be in rearward of the fightF
And succour those that need it mostF
Now gallant Marmion well I knowF
Would gladly to the vanguard goF
Edmund the Admiral Tunstall thereF
With thee their charge will blithely shareF
There fight thine own retainers tooF
Beneath De Burg thy steward trueF
Thanks noble Surrey Marmion saidF
Nor farther greeting there he paidF
But parting like a thunderboltF
First in the vanguard made a haltF
Where such a shout there roseF
Of Marmion Marmion that the cryA
Up Flodden mountain shrilling highA
Startled the Scottish foesF
-
XXVA
-
Blount and Fitz Eustace rested stillS3
With Lady Clare upon the hillS3
On which for far the day was spentF
The western sunbeams now were bentF
The cry they heard its meaning knewF
Could plain their distant comrades viewF
Sadly to Blount did Eustace sayF
Unworthy office here to stayF
No hope of gilded spurs to dayF
But see look up on Flodden bentF
The Scottish foe has fired his tentF
And sudden as he spokeH3
From the sharp ridges of the hillS3
All downward to the banks of TillS3
Was wreathed in sable smokeH3
Volumed and fast and rolling farF
The cloud enveloped Scotland's warF
As down the hill they brokeH3
Nor martial shout nor minstrel toneF
Announced their march their tread aloneF
At times one warning trumpet blownF
At times a stifled humU3
Told England from his mountain throneF
King James did rushing comeU3
Scarce could they hear or see their foesF
Until at weapon point they closeF
They close in clouds of smoke and dustF
With sword sway and with lance's thrustF
And such a yell was thereF
Of sudden and portentous birthT2
As if men fought upon the earthT2
And fiends in upper airF
Oh life and death were in the shoutF
Recoil and rally charge and routF
And triumph and despairF
Long looked the anxious squires their eyeA
Could in the darkness nought descryF
-
XXVIF
-
At length the freshening western blastF
Aside the shroud of battle castF
And first the ridge of mingled spearsF
Above the brightening cloud appearsF
And in the smoke the pennons flewF
As in the storm the white sea mewF
Then marked they dashing broad and farF
The broken billows of the warF
And plumed crests of chieftains braveF
Floating like foam upon the waveF
But nought distinct they seeF
Wide raged the battle on the plainF
Spears shook and falchions flashed amainF
Fell England's arrow flight like rainF
Crests rose and stooped and rose againF
Wild and disorderlyF
Amid the scene of tumult highF
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon flyF
And stainless Tunstall's banner whiteF
And Edmund Howard's lion brightF
Still bear them bravely in the fightF
Although against them comeU3
Of gallant Gordons many a oneF
And many a stubborn Badenoch manF
And many a rugged Border clanF
With Huntley and with HomeY3
-
XXVIIF
-
Far on the left unseen the whileS3
Stanley broke Lennox and ArgyleS3
Though there the western mountaineerF
Rushed with bare bosom on the spearF
And flung the feeble targe asideF
And with both hands the broadsword pliedF
'Twas vain But Fortune on the rightF
With fickle smile cheered Scotland's fightF
Then fell that spotless banner whiteF
The Howard's lion fellS3
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flewF
With wavering flight while fiercer grewF
Around the battle yellS3
The Border slogan rent the skyF
A Home a Gordon was the cryF
Loud were the clanging blowsF
Advanced forced back now low now highF
The pennon sunk and roseF
As bends the barque's mast in the galeS3
When rent are rigging shrouds and sailS3
It wavered 'mid the foesF
No longer Blount the view could bearF
By heaven and all its saints I swearF
I will not see it lostF
Fitz Eustace you with Lady ClareF
May bid your beads and patter prayerF
I gallop to the hostF
And to the fray he rode amainF
Followed by all the archer trainF
The fiery youth with desperate chargeZ3
Made for a space an opening largeZ3
The rescued banner roseF
But darkly closed the war aroundF
Like pine trees rooted from the groundF
It sunk among the foesF
Then Eustace mounted too yet stayedF
As loth to leave the helpless maidF
When fast as shaft can flyF
Bloodshot his eyes his nostrils spreadF
The loose rein dangling from his headF
Housing and saddle bloody redF
Lord Marmion's steed rushed byF
And Eustace maddening at the sightF
A look and sign to Clara castF
To mark he would return in hasteF
Then plunged into the fightF
-
XXVIIIF
-
Ask me not what the maiden feelsF
Left in that dreadful hour aloneF
Perchance her reason stoops or reelsF
Perchance a courage not her ownF
Braces her mind to desperate toneF
The scattered van of England wheelsF
She only said as loud in airF
The tumult roared Is Wilton thereF
They fly or maddened by despairF
Fight but to die Is Wilton thereF
With that straight up the hill there rodeF
Two horsemen drenched with goreF
And in their arms a helpless loadF
A wounded knight they boreF
His hand still strained the broken brandF
His arms were smeared with blood and sandF
Dragged from among the horses' feetF
With dinted shield and helmet beatF
The falcon crest and plumage goneF
Can that be haughty MarmionF
Young Blount his armour did unlaceF
And gazing on his ghastly faceF
Said 'By Saint George he's goneF
That spear wound has our master spedF
And see the deep cut on his headF
Good night to MarmionF
Unnurtured Blount thy brawling ceaseF
He opes his eyes said Eustace peaceF
-
XXIXF
-
When doffed his casque he felt free airF
Around 'gan Marmion wildly stareF
Where's Harry Blount Fitz Eustace whereF
Linger ye here ye hearts of hareF
Redeem my pennon charge againF
Cry 'Marmion to the rescue ' VainF
Last of my race on battle plainF
That shout shall ne'er be heard againF
Yet my last thought is England's flyF
To Dacre bear my signet ringS
Tell him his squadrons up to bringS
Fitz Eustace to Lord Surrey hieX2
Tunstall lies dead upon the fieldF
His life blood stains the spotless shieldF
Edmund is down my life is reftF
The Admiral alone is leftF
Let Stanley charge with spur of fireF
With Chester charge and LancashireF
Full upon Scotland's central hostF
Or victory and England's lostF
Must I bid twice hence varlets flyF
Leave Marmion here alone to dieF
They parted and alone he layF
Clare drew her from the sight awayF
Till pain rung forth a lowly moanF
And half he murmured Is there noneF
Of all my halls have nursedF
Page squire or groom one cup to bringS
Of blessed water from the springS
To slake my dying thirstF
-
XXXF
-
O woman in our hours of easeF
Uncertain coy and hard to pleaseF
And variable as the shadeF
By the light quivering aspen madeF
When pain and anguish wring the browF
A ministering angel thouF
Scarce were the piteous accents saidF
When with the baron's casque the maidF
To the nigh streamlet ranF
Forgot were hatred wrongs and fearsF
The plaintive voice alone she hearsF
Sees but the dying manF
She stooped her by the runnel's sideF
But in abhorrence backward drewF
For oozing from the mountain's sideF
Where raged the war a dark red tideF
Was curdling in the streamlet blueF
Where shall she turn behold her markA4
A little fountain cellS3
Where water clear as diamond sparkA4
In a stone basin fellS3
Above some half worn letters sayF
Drink weary pilgrim drink and prayF
For the kind soul of Sybil GrayF
Who built this cross and wellS3
She filled the helm and back she hiedF
And with surprise and joy espiedF
A monk supporting Marmion's headF
A pious man whom duty broughtF
To dubious verge of battle foughtF
To shrive the dying bless the deadF
-
XXXIF
-
Deep drank Lord Marmion of the waveF
And as she stooped his brow to laveF
Is it the hand of Clare he saidF
Or injured Constance bathes my headF
Then as remembrance roseF
Speak not to me of shrift or prayerF
I must redress her woesF
Short space few words are mine to spareF
Forgive and listen gentle ClareF
Alas she said the whileS3
Oh think of your immortal wealS3
In vain for Constance is your zealS3
She died at Holy IsleS3
Lord Marmion started from the groundF
As light as if he felt no woundF
Though in the action burst the tideF
In torrents from his wounded sideF
Then it was truth he said I knewF
That the dark presage must be trueF
I would the Fiend to whom belongsF
The vengeance due to all her wrongsF
Would spare me but a dayF
For wasting fire and dying groanF
And priests slain on the altar stoneF
Might bribe him for delayF
It may not be this dizzy tranceF
Curse on yon base marauder's lanceF
And doubly cursed my failing brandF
A sinful heart makes feeble handF
Then fainting down on earth he sunkB4
Supported by the trembling monkB4
-
XXXIIF
-
With fruitless labour Clara boundF
And strove to staunch the gushing woundF
The monk with unavailing caresF
Exhausted all the Church's prayersF
Ever he said that close and nearF
A lady's voice was in his earF
And that the priest he could not hearF
For that she ever sungK3
IN THE LOST BATTLE BORNE DOWN BY THE FLYINGS
WHERE MINGLES WAR'S RATTLE WITH GROANS OF THE DYINGS
So the notes rungK3
Avoid thee Fiend with cruel handF
Shake not the dying sinner's sandF
Oh look my son upon yon signF
Of the Redeemer's grace divineF
Oh think on faith and blissF
By many a death bed I have beenF
And many a sinner's parting seenF
But never aught like thisF
The war that for a space did failS3
Now trebly thundering swelled the galeS3
And Stanley was the cryF
A light on Marmion's visage spreadF
And fired his glazing eyeF
With dying hand above his headF
He shook the fragment of his bladeF
And shouted VictoryF
Charge Chester charge On Stanley onF
Were the last words of MarmionF
-
XXXIIIF
-
By this though deep the evening fellS3
Still rose the battle's deadly swellS3
For still the Scots around their kingS
Unbroken fought in desperate ringS
Where's now their victor vaward wingS
Where Huntly and where HomeY3
Oh for a blast of that dread hornF
On Fontarabian echoes borneF
That to King Charles did comeU3
When Rowland brave and OlivierF
And every paladin and peerF
On Roncesvalles diedF
Such blast might warn them not in vainF
To quit the plunder of the slainF
And turn the doubtful day againF
While yet on Flodden sideF
Afar the royal standard fliesF
And round it toils and bleeds and diesF
Our Caledonian prideF
In vain the wish for far awayF
While spoil and havoc mark their wayF
Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers strayF
Oh lady cried the monk awayF
And placed her on her steedF
And led her to the chapel fairF
Of Tillmouth upon TweedF
There all the night they spent in prayerF
And at the dawn of morning thereF
She met her kinsman Lord Fitz ClareF
-
XXXIVF
-
But as they left the dark'ning heathC4
More desperate grew the strife of deathD4
The English shafts in volleys hailedF
In headlong charge their horse assailedF
Front flank and rear the squadrons sweepN
To break the Scottish circle deepN
That fought around their kingS
But yet though thick the shafts as snowF
Though charging knights like whirlwinds goF
Though billmen ply the ghastly blowF
Unbroken was the ringS
The stubborn spearmen still made goodF
Their dark impenetrable woodF
Each stepping where his comrade stoodF
The instant that he fellS3
No thought was there of dastard flightF
Linked in the serried phalanx tightF
Groom fought like noble squire like knightF
As fearlessly and wellS3
Till utter darkness closed her wingS
O'er their thin host and wounded kingS
Then skilful Surrey's sage commandsF
Led back from strife his shattered bandsF
And from the charge they drewF
As mountain waves from wasted landsF
Sweep back to ocean blueF
Then did their loss his foemen knowF
Their king their lords their mightiest lowF
They melted from the field as snowF
When streams are swoll'n and south winds blowF
Dissolves in silent dewF
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plashP3
While many a broken bandF
Disordered through her currents dashP3
To gain the Scottish landF
To town and tower to down and daleS3
To tell red Flodden's dismal taleS3
And raise the universal wailS3
Tradition legend tune and songE2
Shall many an age that wail prolongE2
Still from the sire the son shall hearF
Of the stern strife and carnage drearF
Of Flodden's fatal fieldF
Where shivered was fair Scotland's spearF
And broken was her shieldF
-
XXXVF
-
Day dawns upon the mountain's sideF
There Scotland lay thy bravest prideF
Chiefs knights and nobles many a oneF
The sad survivors all are goneF
View not that corpse mistrustfullyS3
Defaced and mangled though it beF
Nor to yon Border castle highF
Look northward with upbraiding eyeF
Nor cherish hope in vainF
That journeying far on foreign strandF
The royal pilgrim to his landF
May yet return againF
He saw the wreck his rashness wroughtF
Reckless of life he desperate foughtF
And fell on Flodden plainF
And well in death his trusty brandF
Firm clenched within his manly handF
Beseemed the monarch slainF
But oh how changed since yon blithe nightF
Gladly I turn me from the sightF
Unto my tale againF
-
XXXVIF
-
Short is my tale Fitz Eustace' careF
A pierced and mangled body bareF
To moated Lichfield's lofty pileS3
And there beneath the southern aisleS3
A tomb with Gothic sculpture fairF
Did long Lord Marmion's image bearF
Now vainly for its site you lookY
'Twas levelled when fanatic BrookY
The fair cathedral stormed and tookY
But thanks to Heaven and good Saint ChadF
A guerdon meet the spoiler hadF
There erst was martial Marmion foundF
His feet upon a couchant houndF
His hands to heaven upraisedF
And all around on scutcheon richP3
And tablet carved and fretted nicheP3
His arms and feats were blazedF
And yet though all was carved so fairF
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayerF
The last Lord Marmion lay not thereF
From Ettrick woods a peasant swainF
Followed his lord to Flodden plainF
One of those flowers whom plaintive layS3
In Scotland mourns as wede awayS3
Sore wounded Sybil's Cross he spiedF
And dragged him to its foot and diedF
Close by the noble Marmion's sideF
The spoilers stripped and gashed the slainF
And thus their corpses were mista'enF
And thus in the proud baron's tombL3
The lowly woodsman took the roomL3
-
XXXVIIF
-
Less easy task it were to showP3
Lord Marmion's nameless grave and lowP3
They dug his grave e'en where he layS3
But every mark is goneF
Time's wasting hand has done awayS3
The simple cross of Sybil GrayS3
And broke her font of stoneF
But yet out from the little hillS3
Oozes the slender springlet stillS3
Oft halts the stranger thereF
For thence may best his curious eyeF
The memorable field descryF
And shepherd boys repairF
To seek the water flag and rushP3
And rest them by the hazel bushP3
And plait their garlands fairF
Nor dream they sit upon the graveF
That holds the bones of Marmion braveF
When thou shalt find the little hillS3
With thy heart commune and be stillS3
If ever in temptation strongE2
Thou left'st the right path for the wrongE2
If every devious step thus trodF
Still led thee further from the roadF
Dread thou to speak presumptuous doomL3
On noble Marmion's lowly tombL3
But say He died a gallant knightF
With sword in hand for England's rightF
-
XXXVIIIF
-
I do not rhyme to that dull elfF
Who cannot image to himselfF
That all through Flodden's dismal nightF
Wilton was foremost in the fightF
That when brave Surrey's steed was slainF
'Twas Wilton mounted him againF
'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hewedF
Amid the spearmen's stubborn woodF
Unnamed by Holinshed or HallS3
He was the living soul of allS3
That after fight his faith made plainF
He won his rank and lands againF
And charged his old paternal shieldF
With bearings won on Flodden FieldF
Nor sing I to that simple maidF
To whom it must in terms be saidF
That king and kinsmen did agreeF
To bless fair Clara's constancyF
Who cannot unless I relateF
Paint to her mind the bridal's stateF
That Wolsey's voice the blessing spokeH3
More Sands and Denny passed the jokeH3
That bluff King Hal the curtain drewF
And Katherine's hand the stocking threwF
And afterwards for many a dayF
That it was held enough to sayF
In blessing to a wedded pairF
Love they like Wilton and like ClareF
-
-
L'ENVOY TO THE READERF
-
-
-
Why then a final note prolongE2
Or lengthen out a closing songE2
Unless to bid the gentles speedF
Who long have listed to my redeF
To statesmen grave if such may deignF
To read the minstrel's idle strainF
Sound head clean hand and piercing witF
And patriotic heart as PittF
A garland for the hero's crestF
And twined by her he loves the bestF
To every lovely lady brightF
What can I wish but faithful knightF
To every faithful lover tooF
What can I wish but lady trueF
And knowledge to the studious sageF3
And pillow to the head of ageF3
To thee dear schoolboy whom my layF
Has cheated of thy hour of playF
Light task and merry holidayF
To all to each a fair good nightF
And pleasing dreams and slumbers lightF

Walter Scott (sir)



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