Was it, that, seared by sinful scorn,
My heart could neither melt nor burn?
Or lie my warm affections low,
With him, that taught them first to glow?
Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew,
To pay thy kindness grateful due,
And well could brook the mild command,
That ruled thy simple maiden band.
How different now! condemned to bide
My doom from this dark tyrant's pride.-
But Marmion has to learn, ere long,
That constant mind, and hate of wrong,
Descended to a feeble girl,

From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl:
Of such a stem, a sapling weak,*
He ne'er shall bend, although he break.

V.

"But see!-what makes this armour here ?" For in her path there lay

Targe, corslet, helm ;-she viewed them near.-
"The breast-plate pierced!-Ay, much I fear,
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear,
That hath made fatal entrance here,

As these dark blood-gouts say.-
Thus Wilton!-Oh! not corslet's ward,
Not truth, as diamond pure and hard,
Could be thy manly bosom's guard,
On yon disastrous day!"-

She raised her eyes in mournful mood,-
WILTON himself before her stood!
It might have seemed his passing ghost,
For every youthful grace was lost;
And joy unwonted, and surprise,.
Gave their strange wildness to his eyes.-
Expect not, noble dames and lords,
That I can tell such scene in words:
What skilful limner e'er would choose
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were given
To dip his brush in dies of heaven?
Far less can my weak line declare

Each changing passion's shade:
Brightening to rapture from despair,
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there,
And joy, with her angelic air,

And hope, that paints the future fair,
Their varying hues displayed:
Each o'er its rival's ground extending,
Alternate conquering, shifting, blending,
Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield,
And mighty love retains the field."
Shortly I tell what then he said,
By many a tender word delayed,t
And modest blush, and bursting sigh,
And question kind, and fond reply.

VI.

DE WILTON'S HISTORY.
Forget we that disastrous day,
When senseless in the lists I lay.
Thence dragged, but how I cannot know,
For sense and recollection fled,-

I found me on a pallet low,

Within my ancient beadsman's shed.§
Austin, remember'st thou, my Clare,

How thou didst blush, when the old man
When first our infant love began,
Said we would make a matchless pair?-
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled
From the degraded traitor's bed,-
He only held my burning head,

the choir; and 'tis then that the spectators, who stand on the west side of Whitby churchyard, so as just to see the most northerly part of the abbey pass the north end of Whitby church, imagine they perceive, in one of the highest windows there, the resemblance of a woman, arrayed in a shroud. Though we are certain this is only a reflection caused by the splendour of the sunbeams, yet fame reports it, and it is constantly believed among the vulgar, to be an appearance of Lady Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state; before which. I make no doubt, the Papists, even in these our days, offer up their prayers with as much zeal and devotion, as before any other image of their most glorified saint."-CHARLTON'S History of Whitby, p. 33.

* [MS.—" of such a stem, or branch, though weak,

80

He ne'er shall bend me, though he break."]

And tended me for many a day,
While wounds and fever held their sway.
But far more needful was his care,
When sense returned, to wake despair,
For I did tear the closing wound,
And dash me frantic on the ground,
If e'er I heard the name of Clare.
At length, to calmer reason brought,
Much by his kind attendance wrought,
With him I left my native strand,
And, in a Palmer's weeds arrayed,
My hated name and form to shade,
Í journeyed many a land;

No more a lord of rank and birth,
But mingled with the dregs of earth.
Oft Austin for my reason feared,

When I would sit, and deeply brood
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood,
Or wild mad schemes upreared.

My friend at length fell sick, and said,
God would remove him soon:
And, while upon his dying bed,
He begged of me a boon-
If e'er my deadliest enemy

Beneath my brand should conquered lie,
Even then my mercy should awake,
And spare his life for Austin's sake.
VII.

"Still restless as a second Cain,
To Scotland next my route was ta'en,
Full well the paths I knew.
Fame of my fate made various sound,
That death in pilgrimage I found,
That I had perished of my wound,-

None cared which tale was true:
And living eye could never guess
De Wilton in his Palmer's dress:
For now that sable slough is shed,
And trimmed my shaggy beard and head,
I scarcely know me in the glass.
A chance most wondrous did provide,
That I should be that Baron's guide-
I will not name his name!-
Vengeance to God alone belongs;
But, when I think on all my wrongs,
My blood is liquid flame!

And ne'er the time shall I forget,
When, in a Scottish hostel set,

Dark looks we did exchange:

What were his thoughts I cannot tell;
But in my bosom mustered Hell
Its plans of dark revenge.

VIII. "A word of vulgar augury,

That broke from me, I scarce knew why,
Brought on a village tale;

Which wrought upon his moody sprite,
And sent him armed forth by night.

I borrowed steed and mail,

And weapons, from his sleeping band;
And, passing from a postern door,
We met, and 'countered, hand to hand,-
He fell on Gifford moor.

For the death stroke my brand I drew,
(0 then my helmed head he knew,
The Palmer's cowl was gone,)
Then had three inches of my blade
The heavy debt of vengeance paid,-
My hand the thought of Austin staid, T
I left him there alone.-

O, good old man! even from the grave,

[MS.-"By many a short caress delay'd."]

When the surprise at meeting a lover rescued from the dead is considered, the above picture will not be thought over charged with colouring; and yet the painter is so fatigued with his exertion, that he has finally thrown away the brush, and is contented with merely chalking out the intervening adventures of De Wilton, without bestowing on them any colours at all."Critical Review]

$ (MS." Where an old beadsman held my head."] [MS.—“The_banish'd traitor's humble bed."} lowly S TIMS.-"But thought of Austin staid my hand, And in the sheath I plunged the brand;

I left him there alone.

O good old man! even from the grave,

Thy spirit could De Wilton save."I

Thy spirit could thy master save:
If I had slain my foeman, ne'er
Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear,
Given to my hand this packet dear,
Of power to clear my injured fame,
And vindicate De Wilton's name.-
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell
Of the strange pageantry of hell,
That broke our secret speech-
It rose from the infernal shade,
Or featly was some juggle played,
A tale of peace to teach.

Appeal to heaven I judged was best,
When my name came among the rest.
IX.

"Now here, within Tantallon hold,
To Douglas late my tale I told,
To whom my house was known of old.
Won by my proofs, his falchion bright
This eve anew shall dub me knight.
These were the arms that once did turn
The tide of fight on Otterburne,
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield,
When the dead Douglas won the field.*
These Angus gave-his armourer's care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,
But ancient armour on the walls,
And aged chargers in the stalls,

And women, priests, and gray-haired men ;
The rest were all in Twisel glen.t
And now I watch my armour here,
By law of arms, till midnight's near;
Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light.

X.

་་ There soon again we meet, my Clare!
This Baron means to guide thee there:
Douglas reveres his King's command,
Else would he take thee from his band.
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too,
Will give De Wilton justice due.
Now meeter far for martial broil,
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,

Once more"- "O, Wilton! must we then
Risk new-found happiness again,
Trust fate of arms once more?
And is there not an humble glen,
Where we, content and poor,

Might build a cottage in the shade,
A shepherd thou, and I to aid

Thy task on dale and moor?

That reddening brow!-too well I know,
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow,
While falsehood stains thy name:
Go then to fight! Clare bids thee go!
Clare can a warrior's feelings know,
And weep a warrior's shame;
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel,
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel,
And belt thee with thy brand of steel,
And send thee forth to fame!"
XI.

That night, upon the rocks and bay,
The midnight moonbeam slumbering lay,
And poured its silver light, and pure,
Through loop hole, and through embrazure,
Upon Tantallon tower and hall;
But chief where arched windows wide
Illuminate the chapel's pride,
The sober glances fall.

Much was there need; though, seamed with scars, Two veterans of the Douglas' wars,

[See the ballad of Otterbourne, in the Border Minstrelsy."] Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. (The MS. has

The rest were all on Flodden plain."] [MS.-" You might not by their shine desery."]

The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son of Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of a Scottish metrical version of the Eneid, and of many other poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at this period attained the mitre.

Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding to his courage. Spena of Kilspindie, a favourite of James IV. having spoken of him lightly, the Earl met him while hawking, and, compelling him to single combat, at one blow cut asunder VOL. I.-3 B

Though two gray priests were there,
And each a blazing torch held high,
You could not by their blaze descryt
The chapel's carving fair.
Amid that dim and smoky light,
Checkering the silvery moonshine bright,
A bishop by the altar stood,§
A noble lord of Douglas' blood,,
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white:
Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eye
But little pride of prelacy;

More pleased that, in a barbarous age,
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page,
Than that beneath his rule he held
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld.
Beside him ancient Angus stood,
Doffed his furred gown, and sable hood:
O'er his huge form, and visage pale,
He wore a cap and shirt of mail;
And leaned his large and wrinkled hand
Upon the huge and sweeping brand
Which wont of yore, in battle-fray,
His foeman's limbs to shred away,
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray.!!
He seemed as, from the tombs around,
Rising at judgment-day,

Some giant Douglas may be found
In all his old array;

So pale his face, so huge his limb,
So old his arms, his look so grim.

his thighbone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could obtain James's pardon for this slaughter. Angus was obliged to yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for that of Bothwell, which was some diminution to the family greatness. The sword with which he struck so remarkable a blow, was presented by his descendant. James, Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland. to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single combat on Carberry-hill. See Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.

The following (five lines) are a sort of mongrel between the school of Sternhold and Hopkins and the later one of Mr. Wordsworth."-JEFFREY.]

** MS.-"The train the portal arch pass'd through."]

"Though something I might plain," he said, Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest,

64

While in Tantallon's towers I staid;
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 :-
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,
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."-
XIV.

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire
And shook his very frame for ire,

And-"This to me!" he said,-
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
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,
E'en in thy pitch of pride,
Here, in thy hole, thy vassals near,
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword,)
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!
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!"-t

On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:

Fierce he broke forth," And darest thou then
To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?-
No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no!-,

Up drawbridge, grooms--what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall."-t

Lord Marmion turned,-well was his need,
And dashed the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the arch-way sprung,
The ponderous grate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.

XV.

The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim:

And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
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:
MS.-"Unmeet they be to harbour here."]
[MS.-" False Douglas, thou hast lied."]

"A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name.-
A letter forged! St. Jude to speed!
Did ever knight so foul a deed !s
At first in heart it liked me ill,
When the King praised his clerkly skill.
Thanks to St. Bothan, son of mine,li
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:
So swore I, and I swear it still,
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.-
St. Mary mend my fiery mood!
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas' blood,
I thought to slay him where he stood.-
'Tis pity of him, too," he cried:
"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.
XVI.

The day in Marmion's journey wore,
Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er,
They crossed the heights of Stanrig-moor.
His troop more closely there he scann'd,
And missed the Palmer from the band.-
"Palmer or not," young Blount did say,
"He parted at the peep of day;

Good sooth, it was in strange array."-
"In what array ?" said Marmion, quick.
"My lord, I ill can spell the trick;
But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
And, from a loop-hole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-cat came from the keep,
Wrapped in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
A rusty shirt of mail 1 spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would befall
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 thy peace.

Eustace, thou bear'st a brain-I pray,
What did Blount see at break of day?"-
XVII.

"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 favourite steed;
All sheathed he was in armour 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 ;taken from him his head, dispone upon the body as ye please;" and with that called for his horse, and leaped thereon; and when he was on horseback, he said to the Earl on this manner, My lord, if I live, you shall be rewarded for your labours, that you have used at this time, according to your demerits.' "At this saying the Earl was highly offended, and cried for horse. Sir Patrick, seeing the Earl's fury, spurred his horse, but he was chased near Edinburgh ere they left him: and had it not been his led horse was so tried and good, he had been taken."

Lest the reader should partake of the Earl's astonishment, and consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of the period, I have to remind him of the mumerous forgeries (partly executed by a female assistant) devised by Robert of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being de tected, occasioned his flight into England, and proved the remote cause of Edward the 'Third's memorable wars in France. John Harding, also, was expressly hired by Edward IV. to forge such documents as might appear to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scotland by the English monarchs. [MS.-"Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine Could never pen a written line, So swear I, and I swear it still, Let brother Gawain fret his fill."] His eldest son, the Master of Angus.

"Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!"

He muttered; "Twas nor fay nor ghost,
I met upon the moonlight wold,
But living man of earthly mould.-

O dotage blind and gross!

Had I but fought as wont, one thrust
Had laid De Wilton in the dust

My path no more to cross.—

How stand we now ?-he told his tale
To Douglas; and with some avail;

'Twas therefore gloomed his rugged brow.-Will Surrey dare to entertain,

'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain ? Small risk of that, I trow.

Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun;
Must separate Constance from the nun-
O what, a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!-
A Palmer too!-no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye:

I might have known there was but one,
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion."
XVIII.

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed
His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed,
Where Lennel's convent* closed their march;
(There now is left but one frail arch,

Yet mourn thou not its cells;

Our time a fair exchange has made;
Hard by, in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells,

Well worth the whole Bernardine brood,
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.)
Yet did saint Bernard's Abbot there
Give Marmion entertainment fair,
And lodging for his train and Clare.t
Next morn the Baron climbed the tower,
To view afar the Scottish power,
Encamped on Flodden edge:
The white pavilions made a show,
Like remnants of the winter snow
Along the dusky ridge.

Long Marmion looked :-at length his eye
Unusual movement might descry,
Amid the shifting lines:

The Scottish host drawn out appears,
For, flashing on the hedge of spears
The eastern sunbeam shines.

Their front now deepening, now extending;
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending,
Now drawing back, and now descending,
The skilful Marmion well could know,
They watched the motions of some foe,
Who traversed on the plain below.

XIX.

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
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,
Beneath the castle's airy wall.

This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely demolished. Lennel House is now the residence of my venerable friend, Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known in the literary world* It is situated near Coldstream, almost opposite to Cornhill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field.

"From this period to the conclusion of the poem, Mr. Scott's genius, so long overclouded, bursts forth in full lustre, and even transcends itself. It is impossible to do him justice by making extracts, when all is equally attractive-Monthly Review.). On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flodden, Surrey's headquarters were at Barmoor Wood, and King James held an inaccessible position on the ridge of Flodden-hill, one of the last and lowest eminences detached from the ridge of Cheviot. The Till, a deep and slow river, winded between the armies. On the morning of the 9th September, 1513, Surrey marched in a north-westerly direction, and crossed the Till, with his van and artillery, at Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-guard column passing about a mile higher. by a ford. This movement had the double effect of placing his army between King James and his supplies from Scotland, and of striking the Scottish monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on the depth of the river in his front. But as the passage, both over the bridge and through the ford, was difficult and slow, it seems possible that the English might have been attacked to great advanFirst Edition-Mr. Brydone has been many years dead, 1825.

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
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly,
Had then from many an axe its doom,
To give the marching columns room.

XX.

And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile?
What checks the fiery soul of James?
Why sits that champion of the dames
Inactive on his steed,

And sees, between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed's southern strand,
His host Lord Surrey lead?

What vails the vain knight-errant's brand?-
O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!

O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight,
And cry-"Saint Andrew and our right!"
Another sight had seen that morn,
From fate's dark book a leaf been torn,
And Flodden had been Bannock bourne !-
The precious hour has passed in vain,
And England's host has gained the plain;
Wheeling their march, and circling still,
Around the base of Flodden-hill.

XXI.

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye,S
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,-
"Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!
And see, ascending squadrons come

Between Tweed's river and the hill, Foot, horse, and cannon:-hap what hap, My basnet to a 'prentice cap,

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till!

Yet more! yet more! how far arrayed
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And sweep so gallant by !

With all their banners bravely spread,

And all their armour flashing high, Saint George might waken from the dead, To see fair England's standards fly.""Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount,

best,

And listen to our lord's behest."-T

"thou'dst

tage while struggling with these natural obstacles. I know not if we are to impute James's forbearance to want of military skill, or to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie puts in his mouth, "that he was determined to have his enemies before him on a plain field." and therefore would suffer no interruption to be given, even by artillery, to their passing the river.

The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile of Gothic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, Bart., whose extensive plantations have so much improved the country around. The glen is romantic and delightful, with steep banks on each side, covered with copse, particularly with hawthorn, Beneath a tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful fountain, called St. Helen's Well.

$IMS.-"Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye."] [MS." And all go sweeping by."]

TI The speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal too unpolished for a noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On two occasions, to specify no more, he addresses his brother squire in these cacucphoneus lines,

And,

St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day with bonnet in thy hand;'

'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."

XXII.

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,
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And muttered, as the flood they view,
"The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw:
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,

So Clare shall bide with me.'
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep,
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep*
He ventured desperately:
And not a moment will he bide,

Till squire, or groom, before him ride;
Headmost of all he stems the tide,
And stems it gallantly.

Eustace held Clare upon her horse,
Old Hubert led her rein,

Stoutly they braved the current's course,
And, though far downward driven per force,
The southern bank they gain;
Behind them, straggling, came to shore,
As best they might, the train:
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,
A caution not in vain ;
Deep need that day that every string,
By wet unharmed should sharply ring.
A moment then Lord Marmion staid,
And breathed his steed, his men arrayed,
Then forward moved his band,
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won,
He halted by a cross of stone,

That, on a hillock standing lone, Did all the field command.

XXIII.

Hence might they see the full array

Of either host, for deadly fray ;†

Their marshalled lines stretched east and west,t
And fronted north and south,
And distant salutation past

From the loud cannon mouth;
Not in the close successive rattle,
That breathes the voice of modern battle,
But slow and far between.-

The hillock gained, Lord Marmion staid:
'Here, by this cross," he gently said,
"You well may view the scene.
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:
O! 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."

He waited not for answer there,

And would not mark the maid's despair,s
Nor heed the discontented look
From either squire; but spurred amain,
And, dashing through the battle plain,
His way to Surrey took.

By my fay,

Well hast thou spoke-say forth thy say.'"-JEFFREY.] [MS.- Where to the Tweed Leat's tributes creep."] The reader cannot here expect a full account of the Battle of Flodden; but, so far as is necessary to understand the romance, beg to remind him, that, when the English army, by their skil ful countermarch, were fairly placed between King James and his own country, the Scottish monarch resolved to fight; and, setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge of Flodden to secure the neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, on which that village is built. Thus the two armies met, almost without seeing each other, when, according to the old poem of " Flodden Field,' "The English line stretch'd east and west, And southward were their faces set; The Scottish northward proudly prest, And manfully their foes they met."

The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, which first engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, Thomas Howard, the Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight Marshal of the army. Their divisions were separated from each other; but, at the request of Sir Edmund, his brother's battalion was drawn very near to his own. The centre was com manded by Surrey in person; the left wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the palatmate of Chester. Lord Dacre, with a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the smoke, which the wind had driven between the armies, was Somewhat dispersed, they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in a similar order of battle, and in deep silence.* The Earls of Huntley and of Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund Howard with such success, as entirely to defeat his part of the English right wing. Sir Edmund's banner was beaten down, and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's division. The Admiral, however, stood firm; and Dacre advancing to his support with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the interval of the divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the baggage of both armies and their leader is branded, by the Scottish historians, with negligence or treachery. On the other hand, Huntley, on whom they bestow many encomiums, is said, by the English historians, to have left the field after the first charge. Meanwhile the Admiral. whose flank these chiefs ought to have attacked, availed himself of their inactivity, and pushed forward against another large division of the Scottish army in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On the left, the suc cess of the English was yet more decisive; for the Scottish right "Lesquelz Eerossois descendirent la montaigne en bonne ordre, en la maniere que marchent les Allemans sans parler, ne faire aucun bruit."Gazette of the Battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendis, vol. ii. p. 456.

Lennox and Argyle, was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and especially the severe execution of the Lancashire archers. The King and Surrey, who commanded the respective centres of their armies, were meanwhile engaged in close and dubious conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, and impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by his reserve under Bothwell, charged with such fury, that the standard of Surrey was in danger. At that critical moment, Stanley, who had routed the left wing of the Scottish, pursued his career of victory, and arrived on the right flank, and in the rear of James's division, which, throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night came on. Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre not having been broken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish army, however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of battle in disorder, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten thousand men; but that included the very prime of their nobility, gentry, and even clergy. Scarce family of eminence but has an ancestor killed at Flodden; and there is no province in Scotland, even at this day, where the battle is mentioned without a sensation of terror and sorrow. The Eng lish lost also a great number of men, perhaps within one third of the vanquished, but they were of inferior note.-See the only dis tinct detail of the field of Flodden in PINKERTON'S History, Book xi.; all former accounts being full of blunders and inconsistency,

The spot from which Clara views the battle must be supposed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the English right wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion is supposed to have fallen." [MS.-Their lines were form'd, stretch'd east and west."] SIMS.-"Nor mark'd the lady's deep despair,

Nor heeded discontented look."]

Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the time, Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of rank slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, to which I may safely refer my readers; as an edition, with full explanatory notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. Henry Weber, Tunstall, perhaps, derived his epithet of undefiled from his white armour and banner the latter bearing a white cock,

↑ ["In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone's workmen were digging in Flodden Field, they came to a pit fillet with human bones, and which seemed of great extent; but, alarmel at the sight, they immediately filled up the excava tion, and proceedal no further.

"In 1917, Mr Grey of Millfield Hill found, near the traces of an ancient en campment, a short distance from Flockden Hill, a tumulus, which, on removing, exhibited a very singular sepulchre. In the centre, a large urn was found, but in a thousand pieces. It had either been broken to pieces by the stones falling upon it when digging, or had gone to pieces on the admission of the air. This urn was surrounded by a number of cells formed of flat stumes, in the shape of graves, but too small to hold the body in its natural state. These sepulchral recesses contained nothing except ashes, or dust of the same kind as that in the urn."-Sykes' Local Records, (2 vols. 8vo. 1833,) vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.]