THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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       I

      The train has left the hills of Braid;

       The barrier guard have open made

       (So Lindesay bade) the palisade,

       That closed the tented ground;

       Their men the warders backward drew,

       And carried pikes as they rode through

       Into its ample bound.

       Fast ran the Scottish warriors there,

       Upon the Southern band to stare.

       And envy with their wonder rose,

       To see such well-appointed foes;

       Such length of shaft, such mighty bows,

       So huge, that many simply thought,

       But for a vaunt such weapons wrought;

       And little deemed their force to feel,

       Through links of mail, and plates of steel,

       When rattling upon Flodden vale,

       The clothyard arrows flew like hail.

       II

      Nor less did Marmion’s skilful view

       Glance every line and squadron through;

       And much he marvelled one small land

       Could marshal forth such various band:

       For men-at-arms were here,

       Heavily sheathed in mail and plate,

       Like iron towers for strength and weight,

       On Flemish steeds of bone and height,

       With battleaxe and spear.

       Young knights and squires, a lighter train,

       Practised their chargers on the plain,

       By aid of leg, of hand, and rein,

       Each warlike feat to show,

       To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,

       The high curvet, that not in vain

       The sword sway might descend amain

       On foeman’s casque below.

       He saw the hardy burghers there

       March armed, on foot, with faces bare,

       For vizor they wore none,

       Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight;

       But burnished were their corslets bright,

       Their brigantines, and gorgets light,

       Like very silver shone.

       Long pikes they had for standing fight,

       Two-handed swords they wore,

       And many wielded mace of weight,

       And bucklers bright they bore.

       III

      On foot the yeomen too, but dressed

       In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest,

       With iron quilted well;

       Each at his back (a slender store)

       His forty days’ provision bore,

       As feudal statutes tell.

       His arms were halbert, axe, or spear,

       A crossbow there, a hagbut here,

       A dagger-knife, and brand.

       Sober he seemed, and sad of cheer,

       As loth to leave his cottage dear,

       And march to foreign strand;

       Or musing who would guide his steer

       To till the fallow land.

       Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye

       Did aught of dastard terror lie;

       More dreadful far his ire

       Than theirs, who, scorning danger’s name,

       In eager mood to battle came,

       Their valour like light straw on flame,

       A fierce but fading fire.

       IV

      Not so the Borderer:- bred to war,

       He knew the battle’s din afar,

       And joyed to hear it swell.

       His peaceful day was slothful ease;

       Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please

       Like the loud slogan yell.

       On active steed, with lance and blade,

       The light-armed pricker plied his trade -

       Let nobles fight for fame;

       Let vassals follow where they lead,

       Burghers to guard their townships bleed,

       But war’s the Borderer’s game.

       Their gain, their glory, their delight,

       To sleep the day, maraud the night

       O’er mountain, moss, and moor;

       Joyful to fight they took their way,

       Scarce caring who might win the day,

       Their booty was secure.

       These, as Lord Marmion’s train passed by,

       Looked on at first with careless eye,

       Nor marvelled aught, well taught to know

       The form and force of English bow;

       But when they saw the lord arrayed

       In splendid arms and rich brocade,

       Each Borderer to his kinsman said:-

       “Hist, Ringan! seest thou there!

       Canst guess which road they’ll СКАЧАТЬ