Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie: Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,-- Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring O Woman! in our hours of ease, By the light quiv'ring aspen made; Scarce were the piteous accents said, Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears; She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, But in abhorrence backward drew; Where water, clear as diamond-spark, Above, some half-worn letters say, "Drink. weary. pilgrim. drink. and. prag. A Monk supporting Marmion's head; Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave. With fruitless labour, Clara bound, And that the priest he could not hear, For that she ever sung, "In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!" So the notes rung; "Avoid thee, Fiend!-with cruel hand Shake not the dying sinner's sand! Oh look, my son, upon yon sign And shouted "Victory! Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion.2 [Clara, as the night falls, is extricated from the field by the monk.] But as they left the dark'ning heath, More desp'rate grew the strife of death. The English shafts in volleys hail'd, In headlong charge their horse assail'd: Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep, That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, He thinks of the nun, Constance, whom he had seduced from her convent, and afterwards left to the cruel death which the church awarded to breach of monastic vows, -See canto ii. The words "In the lost," &c., are from the song of Fitz-Eustace in canto iii. The Lady of the Lake' has nothing so good as the death of Marmion."-Mackintosh. 2 The stubborn spearmen still made good Each stepping where his comrade stood, No thought was there of dastard flight ;— Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, Till utter darkness clos'd her wing As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, Then did their loss his foemen know; Their king, their lords, their mightiest low, They melted from the field as snow, When streams are swoln and south winds blow, Dissolves in silent dew. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, While many a broken band, Disorder'd, through her currents dash, To town and tower, to down and dale, Tradition, legend, tune, and song,1 Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, The "Flowers of the Forest," for example. The powerful poetry of these passages can receive no illustration from any praises or observations of ours. It is superior, in our apprehension, to all that this author has hitherto produced. From the moment the author gets in sight of Flodden field, indeed, to the end of the poem, there is no tame writing-he does not once flag. There is a flight of five or six hundred lines in which he never stoops his wing, nor wavers in his And islands that, empurpled bright, High on the south, huge Benvenue Crags, knolls, and mounds, confus'dly hurl'd, STANZA XIX. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid; Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, The indignant spirit of the north. course, but carries the reader forward with a more rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than any epic bard we can at present remember."-Jeffrey. So popular was the dead king, that his affectionate subjects would not believe in his death, but had long a strong faith that he would return. The French peasantry seem to have some similar superstition about Napoleon. For other examples of this in history, see p. 256, supra. Perhaps the art of landscape-painting in poetry has never been displayed in higher perfection than in these stanzas "-Critical Review, Aug. 1820. "Benvenue, the little mountain, i. e. as contrasted with Ben-Ledi and Ben-Lomond; Benan, a diminutive of Ben." "Giants" and "enchanted land," imagery from Scott's favourite romances: allusions to this literature are scattered profusely over his poetry. 2 A band encircling the forehead, and confining the hair, worn in Scotland by an unmarried female: "when she passed, by marriage, into the matron state, it was exchanged for the curch, toy, or coif." One only passion unreveal'd, With maiden pride the maid conceal'd, CANTO II. STANZA XXII. PATERNAL AFFECTION. Some feelings are to mortals given, From passion's dross refined and clear, It would not stain an angel's cheek, He is gone on the mountain, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing, Waft the leaves that are searest, Fleet foot on the correi,2 Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber! Like the dew on the mountain, Thou art gone, and for ever! A Highland dirge; compare the form and use of this word by Dunbar, p. 31, supra. This coronach, and the succeeding song, occur in that splendid passage of the poem, the summoning of the Clan Alpine, by sending the fiery cross through the chief's territories. 2 Or corri, "the hollow side of the hill where game usually lies:" this word gives name to many places in Scotland-Foray (forage), a Highland plundering expedition; on the Borders, where horses were used, the word was Raid (ride). |