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 FFFFFI | A |
- | |
While great events were on the gale | B |
And each hour brought a varying tale | B |
And the demeanour changed and cold | C |
Of Douglas fretted Marmion bold | C |
And like the impatient steed of war | D |
He snuffed the battle from afar | E |
And hopes were none that back again | F |
Herald should come from Terouenne | F |
Where England's king in leaguer lay | G |
Before decisive battle day | G |
Whilst these things were the mournful Clare | H |
Did in the dame's devotions share | H |
For the good countess ceaseless prayed | I |
To Heaven and saints her sons to aid | I |
And with short interval did pass | J |
From prayer to book from book to mass | J |
And all in high baronial pride | K |
A life both dull and dignified | K |
Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressed | L |
Upon her intervals of rest | L |
Dejected Clara well could bear | H |
The formal state the lengthened prayer | H |
Though dearest to her wounded heart | M |
The hours that she might spend apart | M |
- | |
II | A |
- | |
I said Tantallon's dizzy steep | N |
Hung o'er the margin of the deep | N |
Many a rude tower and rampart there | H |
Repelled the insult of the air | H |
Which when the tempest vexed the sky | A |
Half breeze half spray came whistling by | A |
Above the rest a turret square | H |
Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear | H |
Of sculpture rude a stony shield | O |
The bloody heart was in the field | O |
And in the chief three mullets stood | P |
The cognisance of Douglas blood | Q |
The turret held a narrow stair | H |
Which mounted gave you access where | H |
A parapet's embattled row | R |
Did seaward round the castle go | R |
Sometimes in dizzy steps descending | S |
Sometimes in narrow circuit bending | S |
Sometimes in platform broad extending | S |
Its varying circle did combine | F |
Bulwark and bartisan and line | F |
And bastion tower and vantage coign | F |
Above the booming ocean leant | T |
The far projecting battlement | T |
The billows burst in ceaseless flow | R |
Upon the precipice below | R |
Where'er Tantallon faced the land | U |
Gateworks and walls were strongly manned | U |
No need upon the sea girt side | K |
The steepy rock and frantic tide | K |
Approach of human step denied | K |
And thus these lines and ramparts rude | V |
Were left in deepest solitude | V |
- | |
III | A |
- | |
And for they were so lonely Clare | H |
Would to these battlements repair | H |
And muse upon her sorrows there | H |
And list the sea bird's cry | A |
Or slow like noontide ghost would glide | K |
Along the dark grey bulwark's side | K |
And ever on the heaving tide | K |
Look down with weary eye | A |
Oft did the cliff and swelling main | F |
Recall the thoughts of Whitby's fane | F |
A home she ne'er might see again | F |
For she had laid adown | F |
So Douglas bade the hood and veil | B |
And frontlet of the cloister pale | B |
And Benedictine gown | F |
It were unseemly sight he said | W |
A novice out of convent shade | I |
Now her bright locks with sunny glow | R |
Again adorned her brow of snow | R |
Her mantle rich whose borders round | X |
A deep and fretted broidery bound | X |
In golden foldings sought the ground | X |
Of holy ornament alone | F |
Remained a cross with ruby stone | F |
And often did she look | Y |
On that which in her hand she bore | D |
With velvet bound and broidered o'er | Z |
Her breviary book | Y |
In such a place so lone so grim | A2 |
At dawning pale or twilight dim | A2 |
It fearful would have been | F |
To meet a form so richly dressed | L |
With book in hand and cross on breast | L |
And such a woeful mien | F |
Fitz Eustace loitering with his bow | B2 |
To practise on the gull and crow | R |
Saw her at distance gliding slow | R |
And did by Mary swear | H |
Some lovelorn fay she might have been | F |
Or in romance some spell bound queen | F |
For ne'er in work day world was seen | F |
A form so witching fair | H |
- | |
IV | C2 |
- | |
Once walking thus at evening tide | K |
It chanced a gliding sail she spied | K |
And sighing thought The Abbess there | H |
Perchance does to her home repair | H |
Her peaceful rule where Duty free | D2 |
Walks hand in hand with Charity | D2 |
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow | R |
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow | R |
That the enraptured sisters see | D2 |
High vision and deep mystery | D2 |
The very form of Hilda fair | H |
Hovering upon the sunny air | H |
And smiling on her votaries' prayer | H |
Oh wherefore to my duller eye | A |
Did still the saint her form deny | A |
Was it that seared by sinful scorn | F |
My heart could neither melt nor burn | F |
Or lie my warm affections low | R |
With him that taught them first to glow | R |
Yet gentle Abbess well I knew | F |
To pay thy kindness grateful due | F |
And well could brook the mild command | U |
That ruled thy simple maiden band | U |
How different now condemned to bide | K |
My doom from this dark tyrant's pride | K |
But Marmion has to learn ere long | E2 |
That constant mind and hate of wrong | E2 |
Descended to a feeble girl | F2 |
From Red De Clare stout Gloucester's Earl | F2 |
Of such a stem a sapling weak | G2 |
He ne'er shall bend although he break | H2 |
- | |
V | D2 |
- | |
But see what makes this armour here | I2 |
For in her path there lay | G |
Targe corslet helm she viewed them near | J2 |
The breast plate pierced Ay much I fear | J2 |
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear | J2 |
That hath made fatal entrance here | I2 |
As these dark blood gouts say | G |
Thus Wilton Oh not corslet's ward | K2 |
Not truth as diamond pure and hard | L2 |
Could be thy manly bosom's guard | L2 |
On yon disastrous day | G |
She raised her eyes in mournful mood | V |
Wilton himself before her stood | P |
It might have seemed his passing ghost | M2 |
For every youthful grace was lost | N2 |
And joy unwonted and surprise | O2 |
Gave their strange wildness to his eyes | O2 |
Expect not noble dames and lords | P2 |
That I can tell such scene in words | Q2 |
What skilful limner e'er would choose | R2 |
To paint the rainbow's varying hues | R2 |
Unless to mortal it were given | F |
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven | F |
Far less can my weak line declare | H |
Each changing passion's shade | I |
Bright'ning to rapture from despair | H |
Sorrow surprise and pity there | H |
And joy with her angelic air | H |
And hope that paints the future fair | H |
Their varying hues displayed | I |
Each o'er its rival's ground extending | S |
Alternate conquering shifting blending | S |
Till all fatigued the conflict yield | O |
And mighty Love retains the field | O |
Shortly I tell what then he said | W |
By many a tender word delayed | I |
And modest blush and bursting sigh | A |
And question kind and fond reply | A |
- | |
VI | A |
- | |
DE WILTON'S HISTORY | D2 |
- | |
Forget we that disastrous day | G |
When senseless in the lists I lay | G |
Thence dragged but how I cannot know | R |
For sense and recollection fled | W |
I found me on a pallet low | R |
Within my ancient beadsman's shed | W |
Austin remember'st thou my Clare | H |
How thou didst blush when the old man | F |
When first our infant love began | F |
Said we would make a matchless pair | H |
Menials and friends and kinsmen fled | W |
From the degraded traitor's bed | W |
He only held my burning head | W |
And tended me for many a day | G |
While wounds and fever held their sway | G |
But far more needful was his care | H |
When sense returned to wake despair | H |
For I did tear the closing wound | X |
And dash me frantic on the ground | X |
If e'er I heard the name of Clare | H |
At length to calmer reason brought | S2 |
Much by his kind attendance wrought | S2 |
With him I left my native strand | U |
And in a palmer's weeds arrayed | I |
My hated name and form to shade | I |
I journeyed many a land | U |
No more a lord of rank and birth | T2 |
But mingled with the dregs of earth | T2 |
Oft Austin for my reason feared | U2 |
When I would sit and deeply brood | V |
On dark revenge and deeds of blood | Q |
Or wild mad schemes upreared | Q |
My friend at length fell sick and said | Q |
God would remove him soon | F |
And while upon his dying bed | Q |
He begged of me a boon | F |
If e'er my deadliest enemy | D2 |
Beneath my brand should conquered lie | A |
Even then my mercy should awake | H2 |
And spare his life for Austin's sake | H2 |
- | |
VII | A |
- | |
Still restless as a second Cain | F |
To Scotland next my route was ta'en | F |
Full well the paths I knew | F |
Fame of my fate made various sound | Q |
That death in pilgrimage I found | Q |
That I had perished of my wound | Q |
None cared which tale was true | F |
And living eye could never guess | V2 |
De Wilton in his palmer's dress | V2 |
For now that sable slough is shed | Q |
And trimmed my shaggy beard and head | Q |
I scarcely know me in the glass | J |
A chance most wondrous did provide | Q |
That I should be that baron's guide | Q |
I will not name his name | W2 |
Vengeance to God alone belongs | X2 |
But when I think on all my wrongs | X2 |
My blood is liquid flame | W2 |
And ne'er the time shall I forget | Q |
When in a Scottish hostel set | Q |
Dark looks we did exchange | Y2 |
What were his thoughts I cannot tell | Z2 |
But in my bosom mustered Hell | Z2 |
Its plans of dark revenge | A3 |
- | |
VIII | A |
- | |
A word of vulgar augury | F |
That broke from me I scarce knew why | A |
Brought on a village tale | B |
Which wrought upon his moody sprite | Q |
And sent him armed forth by night | Q |
I borrowed steed and mail | B |
And weapons from his sleeping band | Q |
And passing from a postern door | F |
We met and countered hand to hand | Q |
He fell on Gifford Moor | F |
For the death stroke my brand I drew | F |
Oh then my helmdd head he knew | F |
The palmer's cowl was gone | F |
Then had three inches of my blade | Q |
The heavy debt of vengeance paid | Q |
My hand the thought of Austin stayed | Q |
I left him there alone | F |
O good old man even from the grave | A |
Thy spirit could thy master save | A |
If I had slain my foeman ne'er | F |
Had Whitby's Abbess in her fear | F |
Given to my hand this packet dear | F |
Of power to clear my injured fame | W2 |
And vindicate De Wilton's name | W2 |
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell | Z2 |
Of the strange pageantry of Hell | Z2 |
That broke our secret speech | B3 |
It rose from the infernal shade | Q |
Or featly was some juggle played | Q |
A tale of peace to teach | B3 |
Appeal to Heaven I judged was best | Q |
When my name came among the rest | Q |
- | |
IX | X2 |
- | |
Now here within Tantallon Hold | Q |
To Douglas late my tale I told | Q |
To whom my house was known of old | Q |
Won by my proofs his falchion bright | Q |
This eve anew shall dub me knight | Q |
These were the arms that once did turn | F |
The tide of fight on Otterburne | F |
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield | Q |
When the dead Douglas won the field | Q |
These Angus gave his armourer's care | F |
Ere morn shall every breach repair | F |
For naught he said was in his halls | X2 |
But ancient armour on the walls | X2 |
And aged chargers in the stalls | X2 |
And women priests and grey haired men | F |
The rest were all in Twisel Glen | F |
And now I watch my armour here | F |
By law of arms till midnight's near | F |
Then once again a belted knight | Q |
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light | Q |
- | |
X | X2 |
- | |
There soon again we meet my Clare | F |
This baron means to guide thee there | F |
Douglas reveres his king's command | Q |
Else would he take thee from his band | Q |
And there thy kinsman Surrey too | F |
Will give De Wilton justice due | F |
Now meeter far for martial broil | C3 |
Firmer my limbs and strung by toil | C3 |
Once more O Wilton must we then | F |
Risk new found happiness again | F |
Trust fate of arms once more | F |
And is there not an humble glen | F |
Where we content and poor | F |
Might build a cottage in the shade | Q |
A shepherd thou and I to aid | Q |
Thy task on dale and moor | F |
That reddening brow too well I know | F |
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow | F |
While falsehood stains thy name | W2 |
Go then to fight Clare bids thee go | F |
Clare can a warrior's feelings know | F |
And weep a warrior's shame | W2 |
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel | D3 |
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel | D3 |
And belt thee with thy brand of steel | D3 |
And send thee forth to fame | W2 |
- | |
XI | X2 |
- | |
That night upon the rocks and bay | G |
The midnight moonbeam slumbering lay | G |
And poured its silver light and pure | F |
Through loophole and through embrazure | F |
Upon Tantallon's tower and hall | E3 |
But chief where arched windows wide | Q |
Illuminate the chapel's pride | Q |
The sober glances fall | E3 |
Much was there need though seamed with scars | X2 |
Two veterans of the Douglas' wars | X2 |
Though two grey priests were there | F |
And each a blazing torch held high | A |
You could not by their blaze descry | F |
The chapel's carving fair | F |
Amid that dim and smoky light | Q |
Chequering the silvery moonshine bright | Q |
A bishop by the altar stood | Q |
A noble lord of Douglas blood | Q |
With mitre sheen and rocquet white | Q |
Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eye | A |
But little pride of prelacy | X2 |
More pleased that in a barbarous age | F3 |
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page | F3 |
Than that beneath his rule he held | Q |
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld | Q |
Beside him ancient Angus stood | Q |
Doffed his furred gown and sable hood | Q |
O'er his huge form and visage pale | B |
He wore a cap and shirt of mail | B |
And leaned his large and wrinkled hand | Q |
Upon the huge and sweeping brand | Q |
Which wont of yore in battle fray | F |
His foeman's limbs to shred away | F |
As wood knife lops the sapling spray | F |
He seemed as from the tombs around | Q |
Rising at Judgment Day | F |
Some giant Douglas may be found | Q |
In all his old array | F |
So pale his face so huge his limb | A2 |
So old his arms his look so grim | A2 |
- | |
XII | X2 |
- | |
Then at the altar Wilton kneels | X2 |
And Clare the spurs bound on his heels | X2 |
And think what next he must have felt | Q |
At buckling of the falchion belt | Q |
And judge how Clara changed her hue | F |
While fastening to her lover's side | Q |
A friend which though in danger tried | Q |
He once had found untrue | F |
Then Douglas struck him with his blade | Q |
Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid | Q |
I dub thee knight | Q |
Arise Sir Ralph De Wilton's heir | F |
For king for church for lady fair | F |
See that thou fight | Q |
And Bishop Gawain as he rose | X2 |
Said Wilton grieve not for thy woes | X2 |
Disgrace and trouble | G3 |
For he who honour best bestows | X2 |
May give thee double | G3 |
De Wilton sobbed for sob he must | Q |
Where'er I meet a Douglas trust | Q |
That Douglas is my brother | F |
Nay nay old Douglas said not so | X2 |
To Surrey's camp thou now must go | X2 |
Thy wrongs no longer smother | F |
I have two sons in yonder field | Q |
And if thou meet'st them under shield | Q |
Upon them bravely do thy worst | Q |
And foul fall him that blenches first | Q |
- | |
XIII | X2 |
- | |
Not far advanced was morning day | F |
When Marmion did his troop array | F |
To Surrey's camp to ride | Q |
He had safe conduct for his band | Q |
Beneath the royal seal and hand | Q |
And Douglas gave a guide | Q |
The ancient earl with stately grace | X2 |
Would Clara on her palfrey place | X2 |
And whispered in an under tone | F |
Let the hawk stoop his prey is flown | F |
The train from out the castle drew | F |
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu | F |
Though something I might plain he said | Q |
Of cold respect to stranger guest | Q |
Sent hither by your king's behest | Q |
While in Tantallon's towers I stayed | Q |
Part we in friendship from your land | Q |
And noble earl receive my hand | Q |
But Douglas round him drew his cloak | H3 |
Folded his arms and thus he spoke | H3 |
My manors halls and bowers shall still | I3 |
Be open at my sovereign's will | I3 |
To each one whom he lists howe'er | F |
Unmeet to be the owner's peer | F |
My castles are my king's alone | F |
From turret to foundation stone | F |
The hand of Douglas is his own | F |
And never shall in friendly grasp | J3 |
The hand of such as Marmion clasp | J3 |
- | |
XIV | A |
- | |
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire | F |
And shook his very frame for ire | F |
And This to me he said | Q |
'An 'twere not for thy hoary head | Q |
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared | Q |
To cleave the Douglas' head | Q |
And first I tell thee haughty peer | F |
He who does England's message here | F |
Although the meanest in her state | Q |
May well proud Angus be thy mate | Q |
And Douglas more I tell thee here | F |
Even in thy pitch of pride | Q |
Here in thy hold thy vassals near | F |
Nay never look upon your lord | Q |
And lay your hands upon your sword | Q |
I tell thee thou'rt defied | Q |
And if thou said'st I am not peer | F |
To any lord in Scotland here | F |
Lowland or Highland far or near | F |
Lord Angus thou hast lied | Q |
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage | F3 |
O'ercame the ashen hue of age | F3 |
Fierce he broke forth And dar'st thou then | F |
To beard the lion in his den | F |
The Douglas in his hall | E3 |
And hop'st thou thence unscathed to go | X2 |
No by Saint Bride of Bothwell no | X2 |
Up drawbridge grooms what warder ho | X2 |
Let the portcullis fall | E3 |
Lord Marmion turned well was his need | Q |
And dashed the rowels in his steed | Q |
Like arrow through the archway sprung | K3 |
The ponderous gate behind him rung | K3 |
To pass there was such scanty room | L3 |
The bars descending razed his plume | L3 |
- | |
XV | A |
- | |
The steed along the drawbridge flies | X2 |
Just as it trembled on the rise | X2 |
Nor lighter does the swallow skim | A2 |
Along the smooth lake's level brim | A2 |
And when Lord Marmion reached his band | Q |
He halts and turns with clenched hand | Q |
And shout of loud defiance pours | X2 |
And shook his gauntlet at the towers | X2 |
Horse horse the Douglas cried and chase | X2 |
But soon he reined his fury's pace | X2 |
A royal messenger he came | W2 |
Though most unworthy of the name | W2 |
A letter forged Saint Jude to speed | Q |
Did ever knight so foul a deed | Q |
At first in heart it liked me ill | I3 |
When the King praised his clerkly skill | I3 |
Thanks to St Bothan son of mine | F |
Save Gawain ne'er could pen a line | F |
So swore I and I swear it still | I3 |
Let my boy bishop fret his fill | I3 |
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood | Q |
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood | Q |
I thought to slay him where he stood | Q |
'Tis pity of him too he cried | Q |
Bold can he speak and fairly ride | Q |
I warrant him a warrior tried | Q |
With this his mandate he recalls | X2 |
And slowly seeks his castle halls | X2 |
- | |
XVI | A |
- | |
The day in Marmion's journey wore | F |
Yet ere his passion's gust was o'er | F |
They crossed the heights of Stanrig Moor | F |
His troop more closely there he scanned | Q |
And missed the Palmer from the band | Q |
Palmer or not young Blount did say | F |
He parted at the peep of day | F |
Good sooth it was in strange array | F |
In what array said Marmion quick | M3 |
My lord I ill can spell the trick | M3 |
But all night long with clink and bang | N3 |
Close to my couch did hammers clang | N3 |
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang | N3 |
And from a loophole while I peep | N |
Old Bell the Cat came from the keep | N |
Wrapped in a gown of sables fair | F |
As fearful of the morning air | F |
Beneath when that was blown aside | Q |
A rusty shirt of mail I spied | Q |
By Archibald won in bloody work | O3 |
Against the Saracen and Turk | O3 |
Last night it hung not in the hall | E3 |
I thought some marvel would befall | E3 |
And next I saw them saddled lead | Q |
Old Cheviot forth the earl's best steed | Q |
A matchless horse though something old | Q |
Prompt in his paces cool and bold | Q |
I heard the sheriff Sholto say | F |
The earl did much the master pray | F |
To use him on the battle day | F |
But he preferred Nay Henry cease | X2 |
Thou sworn horse courser hold thy peace | X2 |
Eustace thou bear'st a brain I pray | F |
What did Blount see at break of day | F |
- | |
XVII | A |
- | |
In brief my lord we both descried | F |
For then I stood by Henry's side | F |
The Palmer mount and outwards ride | F |
Upon the earl's own favourite steed | F |
All sheathed he was in armour bright | F |
And much resembled that same knight | F |
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight | F |
Lord Angus wished him speed | F |
The instant that Fitz Eustace spoke | H3 |
A sudden light on Marmion broke | H3 |
Ah dastard fool to reason lost | F |
He muttered 'Twas nor fay nor ghost | F |
I met upon the moonlight wold | F |
But living man of earthly mould | F |
O dotage blind and gross | X2 |
Had I but fought as wont one thrust | F |
Had laid De Wilton in the dust | F |
My path no more to cross | X2 |
How stand we now he told his tale | B |
To Douglas and with some avail | B |
'Twas therefore gloomed his rugged brow | F |
Will Surrey dare to entertain | F |
'Gainst Marmion charge disproved and vain | F |
Small risk of that I trow | X2 |
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun | F |
Must separate Constance from the nun | F |
Oh what a tangled web we weave | A |
When first we practise to deceive | A |
A Palmer too no wonder why | A |
I felt rebuked beneath his eye | A |
I might have known there was but one | F |
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion | F |
- | |
XVIII | A |
- | |
Stung with these thoughts he urged to speed | F |
His troop and reached at eve the Tweed | F |
Where Lennel's convent closed their march | P3 |
There now is left but one frail arch | P3 |
Yet mourn thou not its cells | X2 |
Our time a fair exchange has made | F |
Hard by in hospitable shade | F |
A reverend pilgrim dwells | X2 |
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood | F |
That e'er wore sandal frock or hood | F |
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there | F |
Give Marmion entertainment fair | F |
And lodging for his train and Clare | F |
Next morn the baron climbed the tower | F |
To view afar the Scottish power | F |
Encamped on Flodden edge | Q3 |
The white pavilions made a show | X2 |
Like remnants of the winter snow | X2 |
- | |
Along the dusky ridge | R3 |
Long Marmion looked at length his eye | A |
Unusual movement might descry | F |
Amid the shifting lines | X2 |
The Scottish host drawn out appears | X2 |
For flashing on the edge of spears | X2 |
The eastern sunbeam shines | X2 |
Their front now deepening now extending | S |
Their flank inclining wheeling bending | S |
Now drawing back and now descending | S |
The skilful Marmion well could know | X2 |
They watched the motions of some foe | X2 |
Who traversed on the plain below | X2 |
- | |
XIX | X2 |
- | |
Even so it was From Flodden ridge | R3 |
The Scots beheld the English host | F |
Leave Barmore Wood their evening post | F |
And heedful watched them as they crossed | F |
The Till by Twisel Bridge | R3 |
High sight it is and haughty while | S3 |
They dive into the deep defile | S3 |
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall | S3 |
Beneath the castle's airy wall | S3 |
By rock by oak by hawthorn tree | F |
Troop after troop are disappearing | S |
Troop after troop their banners rearing | S |
Upon the eastern bank you see | F |
Still pouring down the rocky den | F |
Where flows the sullen Till | S3 |
And rising from the dim wood glen | F |
Standards on stardards men on men | F |
In slow succession still | S3 |
And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch | P3 |
And pressing on in ceaseless march | P3 |
To gain the opposing hill | S3 |
That morn to many a trumpet clang | N3 |
Twisel thy rocks deep echo rang | N3 |
And many a chief of birth and rank | T3 |
Saint Helen at thy fountain drank | T3 |
Thy hawthorn glade which now we see | F |
In spring tide bloom so lavishly | F |
Had then from many an axe its doom | L3 |
To give the marching columns room | L3 |
- | |
XX | F |
- | |
And why stands Scotland idly now | F |
Dark Flodden on thy airy brow | F |
Since England gains the pass the while | S3 |
And struggles through the deep defile | S3 |
What checks the fiery soul of James | F |
Why sits that champion of the dames | F |
Inactive on his steed | F |
And sees between him and his land | F |
Between him and Tweed's southern strand | F |
His host Lord Surrey lead | F |
What 'vails the vain knight errant's brand | F |
Oh Douglas for thy leading wand | F |
Fierce Randolph for thy speed | F |
Oh for one hour of Wallace wight | F |
Or well skilled Bruce to rule the fight | F |
And cry Saint Andrew and our right | F |
Another sight had seen that morn | F |
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn | F |
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne | F |
The precious hour has passed in vain | F |
And England's host has gained the plain | F |
Wheeling their march and circling still | S3 |
Around the base of Flodden Hill | S3 |
- | |
XXI | F |
- | |
Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye | A |
Fitz Eustace shouted loud and high | A |
Hark hark my lord an English drum | U3 |
And see ascending squadrons come | U3 |
Between Tweed's river and the hill | S3 |
Foot horse and cannon hap what hap | V3 |
My basnet to a 'prentice cap | V3 |
Lord Surrey's o'er the Till | S3 |
Yet more yet more how far arrayed | F |
They file from out the hawthorn shade | F |
And sweep so gallant by | A |
With all their banners bravely spread | F |
And all their armour flashing high | A |
Saint George might waken from the dead | F |
To see fair England's standards fly | A |
Stint in thy prate quoth Blount thou'dst best | F |
And listen to our lord's behest | F |
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said | F |
This instant be our band arrayed | F |
The river must be quickly crossed | F |
That we may join Lord Surrey's host | F |
If fight King James as well I trust | F |
That fight he will and fight he must | F |
The Lady Clare behind our lines | F |
Shall tarry while the battle joins | F |
- | |
XXII | F |
- | |
Himself he swift on horseback threw | F |
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu | F |
Far less would listen to his prayer | F |
To leave behind the helpless Clare | F |
Down to the Tweed his band he drew | F |
And muttered as the flood they view | F |
The pheasant in the falcon's claw | S3 |
He scarce will yield to please a daw | S3 |
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe | W3 |
So Clare shall bide with me | F |
Then on that dangerous ford and deep | N |
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep | N |
He ventured desperately | F |
And not a moment will he bide | F |
Till squire or groom before him ride | F |
Headmost of all he stems the tide | F |
And stems it gallantly | F |
Eustace held Clare upon her horse | F |
Old Hubert led her rein | F |
Stoutly they braved the current's course | F |
And though far downward driven per force | F |
The southern bank they gain | F |
Behind them straggling came to shore | F |
As best they might the train | F |
Each o'er his head his yew bow bore | F |
A caution not in vain | F |
Deep need that day that every string | S |
By wet unharmed should sharply ring | S |
A moment then Lord Marmion stayed | F |
And breathed his steed his men arrayed | F |
Then forward moved his band | F |
Until Lord Surrey's rear guard won | F |
He halted by a cross of stone | F |
That on a hillock standing lone | F |
Did all the field command | F |
- | |
XXIII | F |
- | |
Hence might they see the full array | F |
Of either host for deadly fray | F |
Their marshalled lines stretched east and west | F |
And fronted north and south | X3 |
And distant salutation passed | F |
From the loud cannon mouth | X3 |
Not in the close successive rattle | S3 |
That breathes the voice of modern battle | S3 |
But slow and far between | F |
The hillock gained Lord Marmion stayed | F |
Here by this cross he gently said | F |
You well may view the scene | F |
Here shalt thou tarry lovely Clare | F |
Oh think of Marmion in thy prayer | F |
Thou wilt not well no less my care | F |
Shall watchful for thy weal prepare | F |
You Blount and Eustace are her guard | F |
With ten picked archers of my train | F |
With England if the day go hard | F |
To Berwick speed amain | F |
But if we conquer cruel maid | F |
My spoils shall at your feet be laid | F |
When here we meet again | F |
He waited not for answer there | F |
And would not mark the maid's despair | F |
Nor heed the discontented look | Y |
From either squire but spurred amain | F |
And dashing through the battle plain | F |
His way to Surrey took | Y |
- | |
XXIV | F |
- | |
The good Lord Marmion by my life | F |
Welcome to danger's hour | F |
Short greeting serves in time of strife | F |
Thus have I ranged my power | F |
Myself will rule this central host | F |
Stout Stanley fronts their right | F |
My sons command the vaward post | F |
With Brian Tunstall stainless knight | F |
Lord Dacre with his horsemen light | F |
Shall be in rearward of the fight | F |
And succour those that need it most | F |
Now gallant Marmion well I know | F |
Would gladly to the vanguard go | F |
Edmund the Admiral Tunstall there | F |
With thee their charge will blithely share | F |
There fight thine own retainers too | F |
Beneath De Burg thy steward true | F |
Thanks noble Surrey Marmion said | F |
Nor farther greeting there he paid | F |
But parting like a thunderbolt | F |
First in the vanguard made a halt | F |
Where such a shout there rose | F |
Of Marmion Marmion that the cry | A |
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high | A |
Startled the Scottish foes | F |
- | |
XXV | A |
- | |
Blount and Fitz Eustace rested still | S3 |
With Lady Clare upon the hill | S3 |
On which for far the day was spent | F |
The western sunbeams now were bent | F |
The cry they heard its meaning knew | F |
Could plain their distant comrades view | F |
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say | F |
Unworthy office here to stay | F |
No hope of gilded spurs to day | F |
But see look up on Flodden bent | F |
The Scottish foe has fired his tent | F |
And sudden as he spoke | H3 |
From the sharp ridges of the hill | S3 |
All downward to the banks of Till | S3 |
Was wreathed in sable smoke | H3 |
Volumed and fast and rolling far | F |
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war | F |
As down the hill they broke | H3 |
Nor martial shout nor minstrel tone | F |
Announced their march their tread alone | F |
At times one warning trumpet blown | F |
At times a stifled hum | U3 |
Told England from his mountain throne | F |
King James did rushing come | U3 |
Scarce could they hear or see their foes | F |
Until at weapon point they close | F |
They close in clouds of smoke and dust | F |
With sword sway and with lance's thrust | F |
And such a yell was there | F |
Of sudden and portentous birth | T2 |
As if men fought upon the earth | T2 |
And fiends in upper air | F |
Oh life and death were in the shout | F |
Recoil and rally charge and rout | F |
And triumph and despair | F |
Long looked the anxious squires their eye | A |
Could in the darkness nought descry | F |
- | |
XXVI | F |
- | |
At length the freshening western blast | F |
Aside the shroud of battle cast | F |
And first the ridge of mingled spears | F |
Above the brightening cloud appears | F |
And in the smoke the pennons flew | F |
As in the storm the white sea mew | F |
Then marked they dashing broad and far | F |
The broken billows of the war | F |
And plumed crests of chieftains brave | F |
Floating like foam upon the wave | F |
But nought distinct they see | F |
Wide raged the battle on the plain | F |
Spears shook and falchions flashed amain | F |
Fell England's arrow flight like rain | F |
Crests rose and stooped and rose again | F |
Wild and disorderly | F |
Amid the scene of tumult high | F |
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly | F |
And stainless Tunstall's banner white | F |
And Edmund Howard's lion bright | F |
Still bear them bravely in the fight | F |
Although against them come | U3 |
Of gallant Gordons many a one | F |
And many a stubborn Badenoch man | F |
And many a rugged Border clan | F |
With Huntley and with Home | Y3 |
- | |
XXVII | F |
- | |
Far on the left unseen the while | S3 |
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle | S3 |
Though there the western mountaineer | F |
Rushed with bare bosom on the spear | F |
And flung the feeble targe aside | F |
And with both hands the broadsword plied | F |
'Twas vain But Fortune on the right | F |
With fickle smile cheered Scotland's fight | F |
Then fell that spotless banner white | F |
The Howard's lion fell | S3 |
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew | F |
With wavering flight while fiercer grew | F |
Around the battle yell | S3 |
The Border slogan rent the sky | F |
A Home a Gordon was the cry | F |
Loud were the clanging blows | F |
Advanced forced back now low now high | F |
The pennon sunk and rose | F |
As bends the barque's mast in the gale | S3 |
When rent are rigging shrouds and sail | S3 |
It wavered 'mid the foes | F |
No longer Blount the view could bear | F |
By heaven and all its saints I swear | F |
I will not see it lost | F |
Fitz Eustace you with Lady Clare | F |
May bid your beads and patter prayer | F |
I gallop to the host | F |
And to the fray he rode amain | F |
Followed by all the archer train | F |
The fiery youth with desperate charge | Z3 |
Made for a space an opening large | Z3 |
The rescued banner rose | F |
But darkly closed the war around | F |
Like pine trees rooted from the ground | F |
It sunk among the foes | F |
Then Eustace mounted too yet stayed | F |
As loth to leave the helpless maid | F |
When fast as shaft can fly | F |
Bloodshot his eyes his nostrils spread | F |
The loose rein dangling from his head | F |
Housing and saddle bloody red | F |
Lord Marmion's steed rushed by | F |
And Eustace maddening at the sight | F |
A look and sign to Clara cast | F |
To mark he would return in haste | F |
Then plunged into the fight | F |
- | |
XXVIII | F |
- | |
Ask me not what the maiden feels | F |
Left in that dreadful hour alone | F |
Perchance her reason stoops or reels | F |
Perchance a courage not her own | F |
Braces her mind to desperate tone | F |
The scattered van of England wheels | F |
She only said as loud in air | F |
The tumult roared Is Wilton there | F |
They fly or maddened by despair | F |
Fight but to die Is Wilton there | F |
With that straight up the hill there rode | F |
Two horsemen drenched with gore | F |
And in their arms a helpless load | F |
A wounded knight they bore | F |
His hand still strained the broken brand | F |
His arms were smeared with blood and sand | F |
Dragged from among the horses' feet | F |
With dinted shield and helmet beat | F |
The falcon crest and plumage gone | F |
Can that be haughty Marmion | F |
Young Blount his armour did unlace | F |
And gazing on his ghastly face | F |
Said 'By Saint George he's gone | F |
That spear wound has our master sped | F |
And see the deep cut on his head | F |
Good night to Marmion | F |
Unnurtured Blount thy brawling cease | F |
He opes his eyes said Eustace peace | F |
- | |
XXIX | F |
- | |
When doffed his casque he felt free air | F |
Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare | F |
Where's Harry Blount Fitz Eustace where | F |
Linger ye here ye hearts of hare | F |
Redeem my pennon charge again | F |
Cry 'Marmion to the rescue ' Vain | F |
Last of my race on battle plain | F |
That shout shall ne'er be heard again | F |
Yet my last thought is England's fly | F |
To Dacre bear my signet ring | S |
Tell him his squadrons up to bring | S |
Fitz Eustace to Lord Surrey hie | X2 |
Tunstall lies dead upon the field | F |
His life blood stains the spotless shield | F |
Edmund is down my life is reft | F |
The Admiral alone is left | F |
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire | F |
With Chester charge and Lancashire | F |
Full upon Scotland's central host | F |
Or victory and England's lost | F |
Must I bid twice hence varlets fly | F |
Leave Marmion here alone to die | F |
They parted and alone he lay | F |
Clare drew her from the sight away | F |
Till pain rung forth a lowly moan | F |
And half he murmured Is there none | F |
Of all my halls have nursed | F |
Page squire or groom one cup to bring | S |
Of blessed water from the spring | S |
To slake my dying thirst | F |
- | |
XXX | F |
- | |
O woman in our hours of ease | F |
Uncertain coy and hard to please | F |
And variable as the shade | F |
By the light quivering aspen made | F |
When pain and anguish wring the brow | F |
A ministering angel thou | F |
Scarce were the piteous accents said | F |
When with the baron's casque the maid | F |
To the nigh streamlet ran | F |
Forgot were hatred wrongs and fears | F |
The plaintive voice alone she hears | F |
Sees but the dying man | F |
She stooped her by the runnel's side | F |
But in abhorrence backward drew | F |
For oozing from the mountain's side | F |
Where raged the war a dark red tide | F |
Was curdling in the streamlet blue | F |
Where shall she turn behold her mark | A4 |
A little fountain cell | S3 |
Where water clear as diamond spark | A4 |
In a stone basin fell | S3 |
Above some half worn letters say | F |
Drink weary pilgrim drink and pray | F |
For the kind soul of Sybil Gray | F |
Who built this cross and well | S3 |
She filled the helm and back she hied | F |
And with surprise and joy espied | F |
A monk supporting Marmion's head | F |
A pious man whom duty brought | F |
To dubious verge of battle fought | F |
To shrive the dying bless the dead | F |
- | |
XXXI | F |
- | |
Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave | F |
And as she stooped his brow to lave | F |
Is it the hand of Clare he said | F |
Or injured Constance bathes my head | F |
Then as remembrance rose | F |
Speak not to me of shrift or prayer | F |
I must redress her woes | F |
Short space few words are mine to spare | F |
Forgive and listen gentle Clare | F |
Alas she said the while | S3 |
Oh think of your immortal weal | S3 |
In vain for Constance is your zeal | S3 |
She died at Holy Isle | S3 |
Lord Marmion started from the ground | F |
As light as if he felt no wound | F |
Though in the action burst the tide | F |
In torrents from his wounded side | F |
Then it was truth he said I knew | F |
That the dark presage must be true | F |
I would the Fiend to whom belongs | F |
The vengeance due to all her wrongs | F |
Would spare me but a day | F |
For wasting fire and dying groan | F |
And priests slain on the altar stone | F |
Might bribe him for delay | F |
It may not be this dizzy trance | F |
Curse on yon base marauder's lance | F |
And doubly cursed my failing brand | F |
A sinful heart makes feeble hand | F |
Then fainting down on earth he sunk | B4 |
Supported by the trembling monk | B4 |
- | |
XXXII | F |
- | |
With fruitless labour Clara bound | F |
And strove to staunch the gushing wound | F |
The monk with unavailing cares | F |
Exhausted all the Church's prayers | F |
Ever he said that close and near | F |
A lady's voice was in his ear | F |
And that the priest he could not hear | F |
For that she ever sung | K3 |
IN THE LOST BATTLE BORNE DOWN BY THE FLYING | S |
WHERE MINGLES WAR'S RATTLE WITH GROANS OF THE DYING | S |
So the notes rung | K3 |
Avoid thee Fiend with cruel hand | F |
Shake not the dying sinner's sand | F |
Oh look my son upon yon sign | F |
Of the Redeemer's grace divine | F |
Oh think on faith and bliss | F |
By many a death bed I have been | F |
And many a sinner's parting seen | F |
But never aught like this | F |
The war that for a space did fail | S3 |
Now trebly thundering swelled the gale | S3 |
And Stanley was the cry | F |
A light on Marmion's visage spread | F |
And fired his glazing eye | F |
With dying hand above his head | F |
He shook the fragment of his blade | F |
And shouted Victory | F |
Charge Chester charge On Stanley on | F |
Were the last words of Marmion | F |
- | |
XXXIII | F |
- | |
By this though deep the evening fell | S3 |
Still rose the battle's deadly swell | S3 |
For still the Scots around their king | S |
Unbroken fought in desperate ring | S |
Where's now their victor vaward wing | S |
Where Huntly and where Home | Y3 |
Oh for a blast of that dread horn | F |
On Fontarabian echoes borne | F |
That to King Charles did come | U3 |
When Rowland brave and Olivier | F |
And every paladin and peer | F |
On Roncesvalles died | F |
Such blast might warn them not in vain | F |
To quit the plunder of the slain | F |
And turn the doubtful day again | F |
While yet on Flodden side | F |
Afar the royal standard flies | F |
And round it toils and bleeds and dies | F |
Our Caledonian pride | F |
In vain the wish for far away | F |
While spoil and havoc mark their way | F |
Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray | F |
Oh lady cried the monk away | F |
And placed her on her steed | F |
And led her to the chapel fair | F |
Of Tillmouth upon Tweed | F |
There all the night they spent in prayer | F |
And at the dawn of morning there | F |
She met her kinsman Lord Fitz Clare | F |
- | |
XXXIV | F |
- | |
But as they left the dark'ning heath | C4 |
More desperate grew the strife of death | D4 |
The English shafts in volleys hailed | F |
In headlong charge their horse assailed | F |
Front flank and rear the squadrons sweep | N |
To break the Scottish circle deep | N |
That fought around their king | S |
But yet though thick the shafts as snow | F |
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go | F |
Though billmen ply the ghastly blow | F |
Unbroken was the ring | S |
The stubborn spearmen still made good | F |
Their dark impenetrable wood | F |
Each stepping where his comrade stood | F |
The instant that he fell | S3 |
No thought was there of dastard flight | F |
Linked in the serried phalanx tight | F |
Groom fought like noble squire like knight | F |
As fearlessly and well | S3 |
Till utter darkness closed her wing | S |
O'er their thin host and wounded king | S |
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands | F |
Led back from strife his shattered bands | F |
And from the charge they drew | F |
As mountain waves from wasted lands | F |
Sweep back to ocean blue | F |
Then did their loss his foemen know | F |
Their king their lords their mightiest low | F |
They melted from the field as snow | F |
When streams are swoll'n and south winds blow | F |
Dissolves in silent dew | F |
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash | P3 |
While many a broken band | F |
Disordered through her currents dash | P3 |
To gain the Scottish land | F |
To town and tower to down and dale | S3 |
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale | S3 |
And raise the universal wail | S3 |
Tradition legend tune and song | E2 |
Shall many an age that wail prolong | E2 |
Still from the sire the son shall hear | F |
Of the stern strife and carnage drear | F |
Of Flodden's fatal field | F |
Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear | F |
And broken was her shield | F |
- | |
XXXV | F |
- | |
Day dawns upon the mountain's side | F |
There Scotland lay thy bravest pride | F |
Chiefs knights and nobles many a one | F |
The sad survivors all are gone | F |
View not that corpse mistrustfully | S3 |
Defaced and mangled though it be | F |
Nor to yon Border castle high | F |
Look northward with upbraiding eye | F |
Nor cherish hope in vain | F |
That journeying far on foreign strand | F |
The royal pilgrim to his land | F |
May yet return again | F |
He saw the wreck his rashness wrought | F |
Reckless of life he desperate fought | F |
And fell on Flodden plain | F |
And well in death his trusty brand | F |
Firm clenched within his manly hand | F |
Beseemed the monarch slain | F |
But oh how changed since yon blithe night | F |
Gladly I turn me from the sight | F |
Unto my tale again | F |
- | |
XXXVI | F |
- | |
Short is my tale Fitz Eustace' care | F |
A pierced and mangled body bare | F |
To moated Lichfield's lofty pile | S3 |
And there beneath the southern aisle | S3 |
A tomb with Gothic sculpture fair | F |
Did long Lord Marmion's image bear | F |
Now vainly for its site you look | Y |
'Twas levelled when fanatic Brook | Y |
The fair cathedral stormed and took | Y |
But thanks to Heaven and good Saint Chad | F |
A guerdon meet the spoiler had | F |
There erst was martial Marmion found | F |
His feet upon a couchant hound | F |
His hands to heaven upraised | F |
And all around on scutcheon rich | P3 |
And tablet carved and fretted niche | P3 |
His arms and feats were blazed | F |
And yet though all was carved so fair | F |
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer | F |
The last Lord Marmion lay not there | F |
From Ettrick woods a peasant swain | F |
Followed his lord to Flodden plain | F |
One of those flowers whom plaintive lay | S3 |
In Scotland mourns as wede away | S3 |
Sore wounded Sybil's Cross he spied | F |
And dragged him to its foot and died | F |
Close by the noble Marmion's side | F |
The spoilers stripped and gashed the slain | F |
And thus their corpses were mista'en | F |
And thus in the proud baron's tomb | L3 |
The lowly woodsman took the room | L3 |
- | |
XXXVII | F |
- | |
Less easy task it were to show | P3 |
Lord Marmion's nameless grave and low | P3 |
They dug his grave e'en where he lay | S3 |
But every mark is gone | F |
Time's wasting hand has done away | S3 |
The simple cross of Sybil Gray | S3 |
And broke her font of stone | F |
But yet out from the little hill | S3 |
Oozes the slender springlet still | S3 |
Oft halts the stranger there | F |
For thence may best his curious eye | F |
The memorable field descry | F |
And shepherd boys repair | F |
To seek the water flag and rush | P3 |
And rest them by the hazel bush | P3 |
And plait their garlands fair | F |
Nor dream they sit upon the grave | F |
That holds the bones of Marmion brave | F |
When thou shalt find the little hill | S3 |
With thy heart commune and be still | S3 |
If ever in temptation strong | E2 |
Thou left'st the right path for the wrong | E2 |
If every devious step thus trod | F |
Still led thee further from the road | F |
Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom | L3 |
On noble Marmion's lowly tomb | L3 |
But say He died a gallant knight | F |
With sword in hand for England's right | F |
- | |
XXXVIII | F |
- | |
I do not rhyme to that dull elf | F |
Who cannot image to himself | F |
That all through Flodden's dismal night | F |
Wilton was foremost in the fight | F |
That when brave Surrey's steed was slain | F |
'Twas Wilton mounted him again | F |
'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hewed | F |
Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood | F |
Unnamed by Holinshed or Hall | S3 |
He was the living soul of all | S3 |
That after fight his faith made plain | F |
He won his rank and lands again | F |
And charged his old paternal shield | F |
With bearings won on Flodden Field | F |
Nor sing I to that simple maid | F |
To whom it must in terms be said | F |
That king and kinsmen did agree | F |
To bless fair Clara's constancy | F |
Who cannot unless I relate | F |
Paint to her mind the bridal's state | F |
That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke | H3 |
More Sands and Denny passed the joke | H3 |
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew | F |
And Katherine's hand the stocking threw | F |
And afterwards for many a day | F |
That it was held enough to say | F |
In blessing to a wedded pair | F |
Love they like Wilton and like Clare | F |
- | |
- | |
L'ENVOY TO THE READER | F |
- | |
- | |
- | |
Why then a final note prolong | E2 |
Or lengthen out a closing song | E2 |
Unless to bid the gentles speed | F |
Who long have listed to my rede | F |
To statesmen grave if such may deign | F |
To read the minstrel's idle strain | F |
Sound head clean hand and piercing wit | F |
And patriotic heart as Pitt | F |
A garland for the hero's crest | F |
And twined by her he loves the best | F |
To every lovely lady bright | F |
What can I wish but faithful knight | F |
To every faithful lover too | F |
What can I wish but lady true | F |
And knowledge to the studious sage | F3 |
And pillow to the head of age | F3 |
To thee dear schoolboy whom my lay | F |
Has cheated of thy hour of play | F |
Light task and merry holiday | F |
To all to each a fair good night | F |
And pleasing dreams and slumbers light | F |
Walter Scott (sir)
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Marmion: Canto Vi. - The Battle poem by Walter Scott (sir)
Best Poems of Walter Scott (sir)