NOT far advanced was morning day, | |
| When Marmion did his troops array | |
| To Surrey’s camp to ride; | |
| He had safe-conduct for his band, | |
| Beneath the royal seal and hand, | 5 |
| And Douglas gave a guide: | |
| The ancient Earl, with stately grace, | |
| Would Clara on her palfrey place, | |
| And whispered in an undertone, | |
| “Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.” | 10 |
| The train from out the castle drew, | |
| But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:— | |
| “Though something I might plain,” he said, | |
| “Of cold respect to stranger guest, | |
| Sent hither by your king’s behest, | 15 |
| While in Tantallon’s towers I stayed, | |
| Part we in friendship from your land, | |
| And, noble Earl, receive my hand.”— | |
| But Douglas round him drew his cloak, | |
| Folded his arms and thus he spoke:— | 20 |
| “My manors, halls, and bowers shall still | |
| Be open, at my sovereign’s will, | |
| To each one whom he lists, howe’er | |
| Unmeet to be the owner’s peer. | |
| My castles are my king’s alone, | 25 |
| From turret to foundation-stone,— | |
| The hand of Douglas is his own; | |
| And never shall in friendly grasp | |
| The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”— | |
| |
| Burned Marmion’s swarthy cheek like fire, | 30 |
| And shook his very frame for ire, | |
| And—“This to me!” he said,— | |
| “An ’t were not for thy hoary beard, | |
| Such hand as Marmion’s had not spared | |
| To cleave the Douglas’ head! | 35 |
| And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, | |
| He who does England’s message here, | |
| Although the meanest in her state, | |
| May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: | |
| And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, | 40 |
| Even in thy pitch of pride, | |
| Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, | |
| (Nay never look upon your lord, | |
| And lay your hands upon your sword,) | |
| I tell thee, thou ’rt defied! | 45 |
| And if thou said’st I am not peer | |
| To any lord in Scotland here, | |
| Lowland or Highland, far or near, | |
| Lord Angus, thou hast lied!”— | |
| On the Earl’s cheek the flush of rage | 50 |
| O’ercame the ashen hue of age: | |
| Fierce he broke forth,—“And dar’st thou then | |
| To beard the lion in his den, | |
| The Douglas in his hall? | |
| And hop’st thou hence unscathed to go? | 55 |
| No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! | |
| Up drawbridge, grooms,—what, Warder, ho! | |
| Let the portcullis fall.”— | |
| Lord Marmion turned,—well was his need!— | |
| And dashed the rowels in his steed; | 60 |
| Like an arrow through the archway sprung; | |
| The ponderous grate behind him rung: | |
| To pass there was such scanty room, | |
| The bars descending razed his plume. | |
| |
| The steed along the drawbridge flies, | 65 |
| Just as it trembled on the rise; | |
| Not lighter does the swallow skim | |
| Along the smooth lake’s level brim; | |
| And when Lord Marmion reached his band, | |
| He halts, and turns with clenchèd hand, | 70 |
| And shout of loud defiance pours, | |
| And shook his gauntlet at the towers. | |
| “Horse! horse!” the Douglas cried, “and chase!” | |
| But soon he reined his fury’s pace: | |
| “A royal messenger he came, | 75 |
| Though most unworthy of the name. * * * * * | |
| Saint Mary, mend my fiery mood! | |
| Old age ne’er cools the Douglas blood, | |
| I thought to slay him where he stood. | |
| ’T is pity of him too,” he cried; | 80 |
| “Bold can he speak, and fairly ride: | |
| I warrant him a warrior tried.” | |
| With this his mandate he recalls, | |
| And slowly seeks his castle halls. | |
| |
