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Thrilling in Faulkland-woods the air,
In signal none his steed should spare,
But strive which foremost might repair

To the downfal of the deer.

XXXII. « Nor less," he said," when looking forth, I view yon Empress of the North

Sit on her hilly throne;
Her palace's imperial bowers,
Her castle, proof to hostile powers,
Her stately halls, and holy towers in

Nor less," he said, “I moan,
To think what wo mischance may bring,
And how these merry bells may ring
The death-dirge of our gallant King,

Or, with their larum, call
The burghers forth to watch and ward,
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard

Dun-Edin's leagured wall.-
But not, for my presaging thought,
Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought!

Lord Marmion, I say nay:-
God is the guider of the field,
He breaks the champion's spear and shield,

But thou thyself shalt say, When joins yon host in deadly stowre, That England's dames must weep in bower,

Her monks the dead-mass sing;

For never saw'st thou such a power

Led on by such a King." And now, down winding to the plain, The barriers of the camp they gain,

And there they made a stay. There stays the Minstrel, till he fling His hand o'er every Border string, And fit his harp the pomp to sing, Of Scotland's ancient Court and King,

In the succeeding lay.

END OF CANTO FOURTII.

MARMION.

GANTO FIFTH.

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