XI.

Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck,
With silver scutcheon round their neck,
Stood on the steps of stone,

By which you reach the Donjon gate,
And there, with herald pomp and state,
They hailed Lord Marmion:
They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,
Of Tamworth tower and town;*
And he, their courtesy to requite,

Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight,
All as he lighted down.

"Now largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion,†
Knight of the crest of gold!

A blazon'd shield, in battle won,
Ne'er guarded heart so bold."-

XII.

They marshall'd him to the castle-hall,
Where the guests stood all aside,
And loudly flourished the trumpet-call,
And the heralds loudly cried,

-"Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion,

With the crest and helm of gold!

Full well we know the trophies won
In the lists at Cottiswold:
There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove
'Gainst Marmion's force to stand;
To him he lost his ladye-love,
And to the king his land.

In earlier times, the family of Marmion, lords of Fontenay, in Normandy, was highly distinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fontenay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror, obtained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworth, and also of the manor of Scrivelby, in Lincolnshire, by the honourable service of being the royal champion, as the ancestors of Marmion had formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. The family became extinct, and the office of royal champion was adjudged to Sir John Dymoke, to whom the manor of Scrivelby had descended by one of the coheiresses of Robert de Mirinion.

This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were wont to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. The heralds, like the minstrels. were a race allowed to have great claims upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats they kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text, upon suitable occasions.

Ourselves beheld the listed field,

A sight both sad and fair;

We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield,
And saw his saddle bare;

We saw the victor win the crest,

He wears with worthy pride;
And on the gibbet-tree, reversed,
His foeman's scutcheon tied.
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight!
Room, room, ye gentles gay,
For him who conquered in the right,
Marmion of Fontenaye!"—

XIII.

Then stepped to meet that noble lord,
Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford,
And Captain of the Hold.
He led Lord Marmion to the deas,
Raised o'er the pavement high,
And placed him in the upper place-
They feasted full and high:

The whiles a Northern harper rude

Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud,

"How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all,

Stout Willimondswick,

And Hard-riding Dick,

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh,

And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw."
Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook
The harper's barbarous lay;

Yet much he praised the pains he took,
And well those pains did pay:

For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain,
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain.

XIV.

"Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy.

I pray you bide some little space,

In this poor tower with me.

Here may you keep your arms from rust,

May breathe your war-horse well; Seldom hath pass'd a week, but giust

Or feat of arms befell:

The Scots can rein a mettled steed,
And love to couch a spear;—
St George! a stirring life they lead
That have such neighbours near.
Then stay with us a little space,
Our northern wars to learn;
I pray you for your lady's grace."
Lord Marmion's brow grew stern.

XV.

The Captain mark'd his altered look,
And gave a squire the sign;
A mighty wassel bowl he took,

And crown'd it high with wine. "Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: But first I pray thee fair,

Where hast thou left that Page of thine,

That used to serve thy cup of wine,
Whose beauty was so rare?

When last in Raby towers we met,
The boy I closely eyed,

And often marked his cheeks were wet,
With tears he fain would hide:
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand,
To burnish shield, or sharpen brand,
Or saddle battle-steed;

But meeter seemed for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare,
The slender silk to lead:

His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,
His bosom-when he sigh'd,
The russet doublet's rugged fold
Could scarce repel its pride!

Say, hast thou given that lovely youth
To serve in lady's bower?

Or was the gentle page, in sooth,
A gentle paramour ?"-

XVI

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest;
He rolled his kindling eye,
With pain his rising wrath suppressed,
Yet made a calm reply:

"That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair,
He might not brook the northern air.
More of his fate if thou would'st learn,
I left him sick in Lindisfarn:
Enough of him. But, Heron, say,
Why does thy lovely lady gay
Disdain to grace the hall to-day?
Or has that dame, so fair and sage,
Gone on some pious pilgrimage ?"-
He spoke in covert scorn, for fame
Whispered light tales of Heron's dame,

XVII.

Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt,
Careless the Knight replied,
"No bird, whose feathers gayly flaunt,
Delights in cage to bide:
Norham is grim, and grated close,
Hemmed in by battlement and fosse,
And many a darksome tower;

And better loves my lady bright,
To sit in liberty and light,

In fair Queen Margaret's bower.

We hold our greyhound in our hand,

Our falcon on our glove;

But where shall we find leash or band,

For dame that loves to rove?

Let the wild falcon soar her swing,

She'll stoop when she has tired her wing."

XVIII.

"Nay, if with Royal James's bride The lovely Lady Heron bide,

Behold me here a messenger,

Your tender greetings prompt to bear:
For, to the Scottish court addressed,
I journey at our king's behest

And pray you, of your grace, provide
For me, and mine, a trusty guide.
I have not ridden in Scotland since
James backed the cause of that mock prince,
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,

Who on the gibbet paid the cheat.
Then did I march with Surrey's power,
What time we razed old Ayton tower."

XIX.

"For such like need, my lord, I trow,
Norham can find you guides enow;+
For here be some have pricked as far
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar;
Have drunk the monks of St Bothan's ale,
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale;
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods,
And given them light to set their hoods."

XX.

"Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried,
"Were I in warlike-wise to ride,

A better guard I would not lack,
Than your stout forayers at my back:
But, as in form of peace I go,
A friendly messenger, to know,
Why through all Scotland, near and far,
Their king is mustering troops for war,
The sight of plundering Border spears
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil,
Break out in some unseemly broil:
A herald were my fitting guide;
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;

In 1496, Perkin Warbeck was received honourably in Scotland; and James IV., after conferring upon him in marriage his own re ation, the Lady Catharine Gordon, made war on England in behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of England, Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of considerable forces, but retreated after taking the inconsiderable fortress of Ayton.

The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, and Berwick, were very troublesome neighbours to Scotland.

This is a phrase, by which the Borderers jocularly intimated the burning of a house,