Upland, and dale, and down :—

A thousand did I say? I ween,

Thousands on thousands there were seen,

That chequer'd all the heath between

The streamlet and the town;

In crossing ranks extending far,

Forming a camp irregular;

Oft giving way, where still there stood

Some relics of the old oak wood,

That darkly huge did intervene,

And tamed the glaring white with green :

In these extended lines there lay

A martial kingdom's vast array.

XXVI.

For from Hebudes, dark with rain,

To eastern Lodon's fertile plain,

And from the southern Redswire edge

To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge;

From west to east, from south to north,

Scotland sent all her warriors forth.

Marmion might hear the mingled hum

Of myriads up the mountain come;
The horses' tramp, and tingling clank,

Where chiefs review'd their vassal rank,

And charger's shrilling neigh;

And see the shifting lines advance,

While frequent flash'd from shield and lance,

The sun's reflected ray.

XXVII.

Thin curling in the morning air,
The wreaths of failing smoke declare

To embers now the brands decay'd,
Where the night-watch their fires had made.

They saw, slow rolling on the plain,

Full many a baggage-cart and wain,

And dire artillery's clumsy car,

By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war;

And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,*

And culverins which France had given.

Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick.

Ill-omen'd gift! the guns remain

The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain.

XXVIII.

Nor mark'd they less, where in the air
A thousand streamers flaunted fair;
Various in shape, device, and hue,

Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue,
Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square,
Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol,* there

O'er the pavilions flew.

Highest, and midmost, was descried
The royal banner floating wide;

The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight,
Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone,

Which still in memory is shown,

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight
Whene'er the western wind unroll'd,

* Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of those entitled to display them.

With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold,

And gave to view the dazzling field,

Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield,

The ruddy Lion ramp'd in gold.

XXIX.

Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright,—

He view'd it with a chief's delight,—

Until within him burn'd his heart,

And lightning from his eye did part,

As on the battle-day;

Such glance did falcon never dart,

When stooping on his prey.

"Oh! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said,

Thy King from warfare to dissuade

"Were but a vain essay;

"For, by Saint George, were that host mine,

"Not power infernal, nor divine,

"Should once to peace my soul incline,

"Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine,

"In glorious battle-fray !"

Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood:

"Fair is the sight,—and yet 'twere good,

"That Kings would think withal,

"When peace and wealth their land has bless'd,

""Tis better to sit still at rest,

"Than rise, perchance to fall."—

XXX.

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd,

For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd.

When sated with the martial show

That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er it go,
And mark the distant city glow

With gloomy splendour red ;

For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow,

That round her sable turrets flow,

The morning beams were shed,

And tinged them with a lustre proud,

Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.