THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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       Its cheerful fire and hearty food

       Might well relieve his train.

       Down from their seats the horsemen sprung,

       With jingling spurs the courtyard rung;

       They bind their horses to the stall,

       For forage, food, and firing call,

       And various clamour fills the hall:

       Weighing the labour with the cost,

       Toils everywhere the bustling host.

       III

      Soon by the chimney’s merry blaze,

       Through the rude hostel might you gaze;

       Might see, where, in dark nook aloof,

       The rafters of the sooty roof

       Bore wealth of winter cheer;

       Of seafowl dried, and solands store

       And gammons of the tusky boar,

       And savoury haunch of deer.

       The chimney arch projected wide;

       Above, around it, and beside,

       Were tools for housewives’ hand;

       Nor wanted, in that martial day,

       The implements of Scottish fray,

       The buckler, lance, and brand.

       Beneath its shade, the place of state,

       On oaken settle Marmion sate,

       And viewed around the blazing hearth

       His followers mix in noisy mirth;

       Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide,

       From ancient vessels ranged aside,

       Full actively their host supplied.

       IV

      Theirs was the glee of martial breast,

       And laughter theirs at little jest;

       And oft Lord Marmion deigned to aid,

       And mingle in the mirth they made;

       For though, with men of high degree,

       The proudest of the proud was he,

       Yet, trained in camps, he knew the art

       To win the soldier’s hardy heart.

       They love a captain to obey,

       Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May;

       With open hand, and brow as free,

       Lover of wine and minstrelsy;

       Ever the first to scale a tower,

       As venturous in a lady’s bower:

       Such buxom chief shall lead his host

       From India’s fires to Zembla’s frost.

       V

      Resting upon his pilgrim staff,

       Right opposite the Palmer stood;

       His thin dark visage seen but half,

       Half hidden by his hood.

       Still fixed on Marmion was his look,

       Which he, who ill such gaze could brook,

       Strove by a frown to quell;

       But not for that, though more than once

       Full met their stern encountering glance,

       The Palmer’s visage fell.

       VI

      By fits less frequent from the crowd

       Was heard the burst of laughter loud

       For still, as squire and archer stared

       On that dark face and matted beard

       Their glee and game declined.

       All gazed at length in silence drear,

       Unbroke, save when in comrade’s ear

       Some yeoman, wondering in his fear,

       Thus whispered forth his mind:-

       “Saint Mary! saw’st thou e’er such sight?

       How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,

       Whene’er the firebrand’s fickle light

       Glances beneath his cowl!

       Full on our lord he sets his eye;

       For his best palfrey, would not I

       Endure that sullen scowl.”

       VII

      But Marmion, as to chase the awe

       Which thus had quelled their hearts, who saw

       The ever-varying firelight show

       That figure stern and face of woe,

       Now called upon a squire:

       “Fitz-Eustace, know’st thou not some lay,

       To speed the lingering night away?

       We slumber by the fire.”

       VIII

      “So please you,” thus the youth rejoined,

       “Our choicest minstrel’s left behind.

       Ill may we hope to please your ear,

       Accustomed Constant’s strains to hear.

       The harp full deftly can he strike,

       And wake the lover’s lute alike;

       To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush

       Sings livelier from a springtide bush,

       No nightingale her lovelorn tune

       More sweetly warbles to the moon.

       Woe to the cause, whate’er it be,

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