By Archibald won in bloody work
Against the Saracen and Turk;
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would be fall.
And next I saw them saddled lead
Old Cheviot forth, the earl's best steed,
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt in his paces, cool and bold.
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say.
The earl did much the Master pray
To use him on the battle-day;
But he preferred''Nay, Henry, cease!
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold
| 'In brief, my lord, we both descried
For then I stood by Henry's side-
The Palmer mount and outwards ride
Upon the earl's own favorite steed.
All sheathed he was in armor bright,
And much resembled that same knight
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight;
Lord Angus wished him speed.'-
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke,
A sudden light on Marmion broke:
Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!'
He muttered; "T was nor fay nor ghost
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mold.
O dotage blind and gross!
Even so it was. From Flodden ridge
The Scots beheld the English host
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post,
And heedful watched them as they
crossed
The Till by Twisel Bridge.
High sight it is and haughty, while 195
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,
Beneath the castle's airy wall.
By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree.
Troop after troop are disappearing;
Troop after troop their banners rearing
Upon the eastern bank you see;
Still pouring down the rocky den
Where flows the sullen Till,
And rising from the dim-wood glen,
Standards on standards, men on men,
In slow succession still,
And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch,
And pressing on, in ceaseless march,
To gain the opposing hill.
That morn, to many a trumpet clang,
Twisel! thy rock's deep echo rang,
And many a chief of birth and rank,
Saint Helen! at thy fountain drank.
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 215
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,
Had then from many an axe its doom,
Lord Surrey's o'er the Till ! —
Yet more! yet more!- how fair arrayed
They file from out the hawthorn shade, 250
And sweep so gallant by!
With all their banners bravely spread,
And all their armor flashing high,
Saint George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England's standards fly.'-255
Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, thou
'dst best,
And listen to our lord's behest.'—
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said,
This instant be our band arrayed;
The river must be quickly crossed,
That we may join Lord Surrey's host.
If fight King James, as well I trust
That fight he will, and fight he must,-
The Lady Clare behind our lines
Shall tarry while the battle joins.”
Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the abbot bade adieu,
Far less would listen to his prayer
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
'Here, by this cross,' he gently said,
You well may view the scene.
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:
Oh! think of Marmion in thy prayer!—
Thou wilt not?- well, no less my care
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare-
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten picked archers of my train;
With England if the day go hard,
To Berwick speed amain.-
But if we conquer, cruel maid,
My spoils shall at your feet be laid,
When here we meet again."
Stout Stanley fronts their right, My sons command the vaward post, With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, Shall be in rearward of the fight, And succor those that need it most. Now gallant Marmion, well I know, Would gladly to the vanguard go; Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, With thee their charge will blithely share; The fight thine own retainers too Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.' 'Thanks, noble Surrey!' Marmion said, Nor further greeting there he paid, But, parting like a thunderbolt, First in the vanguard made a halt, Where such a shout there rose Of Marmion! Marmion!' that the cry, Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, Startled the Scottish foes.
Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still With Lady Clare upon the hill,
On which for far the day was spent-
The western sunbeams now were bent;
The cry they heard, its meaning knew,
Could plain their distant comrades view: 360
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,
'Unworthy office here to stay!
No hope of gilded spurs to-day.—
But see! look up on Flodden bent
The Scottish foe has fired his tent.'
And sudden, as he spoke,
From the sharp ridges of the hill,
All downward to the banks of Till,
Was wreathed in sable smoke.
Volumed and vast, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war
As down the hill they broke ;
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,
Announced their march; their tread alone,
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum,
Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.
Scarce could they hear or see their foes
At length the freshening western blast
Aside the shroud of battle cast;
And first the ridge of mingled spears
Above the brightening cloud appears,
And in the smoke the pennons flew,
As in the storm the white seamew.
Then marked they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war,
And plumed crests of chieftains brave
Floating like foam upon the wave;
But nought distinct they see:
Wide raged the battle on the plain;
Spears shook and falchions flashed amain;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; 405
Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again.
Wild and disorderly.
Amid the scene of tumult, high
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly;
And stainless Tunstall's banner white, 410
And Edmund Howard's lion bright,
Still bear them bravely in the fight,
Although against them come
Of gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man,
And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntly and with Home.
Advanced,- forced back,- now low, now
The pennon sunk and rose; As bends the bark's mast in the gale, When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, It wavered mid the foes. No longer Blount the view could bear: 'By heaven and all its saints! I swear I will not see it lost! Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare May bid your beads and patter prayer,—
I gallop to the host.'
And to the fray he rode amain,
Followed by all the archer train.
The fiery youth, with desperate charge,
Made for a space an opening large,—
The rescued banner rose,-
But darkly closed the war around,
Like pine-tree rooted from the ground
It sank among the foes.
Then Eustace mounted too,- yet stayed,
As loath to leave the helpless maid,
When, fast as shaft can fly,
Bloodshot his eyes, his nostrils spread,
The loose rein dangling from his head,
Housing and saddle bloody red,
Lord Marmion's steed rushed by:
To Dacre bear my signet-ring:
Tell him his squadrons up to bring-
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie:
Tunstall lies dead upon the field,
His lifeblood stains the spotless shield; 505 Edmund is down; my life is reft;
The Admiral alone is left.
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,—
With Chester charge, and Lancashire,
Full upon Scotland's central host,
Or victory and England's lost.-
Must I bid twice? - hence, varlets fly!
Leave Marmion here alone to die.'
They parted, and alone he lay;
Clare drew her from the sight away, 515 Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, And half he murmured, 'Is there none
Of all my halls have nurst,
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring
Of blessed water from the spring,
To slake my dying thirst!'
O Woman! in our hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!
Scarce were the piteous accents said,
When with the baron's casque the maid
To the nigh streamlet ran:
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears;
The plaintive voice alone she hears,
Sees but the dying man.
She stooped her by the runnel's side,
But in abhorrence backward drew; For, oozing from the mountain's side Where raged the war, a dark-red tide
Was curdling in the streamlet blue.
Dragged from among the horses' feet, With dinted shield and helmet beat, The falcon-crest and plumage gone, Can that be haughty Marmion!
Young Blount his armor did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghastly face,
Said, By Saint George, he's gone! That spear-wound has our master sped, And see the deep cut on his head!
Where shall she turn?-behold her mark
Where water, clear as diamond spark,
In a stone basin fell.
Above, some half-worn letters say,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
As light as if he felt no wound,
Though in the action burst the tide
In torrents from his wounded side.
'Then it was truth,' he said 'I knew 570
That the dark presage must be true.-
I would the Fiend, to whom belongs
The vengeance due to all her wrongs,
Would spare me but a day!
For wasting fire, and dying groan,
And priests slain on the altar stone,
Might bribe him for delay.
It may not be ! - this dizzy trance.
Curse on yon base marauder's lance,
And doubly cursed my failing brand!
A sinful heart makes feeble hand.'
Then fainting down on earth he sunk,
Supported by the trembling monk.
With fruitless labor Clara bound
And strove to stanch the gushing
Ever. he said, that close and near,
A lady's voice was in his ear,
And that the priest he could not hear; 590
For that she ever sung,
In the lost battle borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!'
'Avoid thee, Fiend! - with cruel hand 595 Shake not the dying sinner's sand!
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