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III.
On foot the yeoman 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 halbard, as, or spear,
A cross-bow 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.

1V.
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, bleedy

But war's the Borderers' 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 homeward ride! 0! could we but, on Border side, By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide,

Beset a prize so fair!
That fangless Lion, too, their guide,
Might chance to lose his glistering hide;
Brown Maudlin of that doublet pied

Could make a kirtle rare."

V.
Next Marmion marked the Celtic race,
Of different language, form, and face,

A various race of man;
Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed,
And wild and garish semblance made,
The chequered trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes the war-pipes brayed

To every varying clan; Wild through their red or sable hair Looked out their eyes, with savage stare;

On Marmion as he past; Their legs, above the knee, were bare ; Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,

And hardened to the blast; Of taller race the chiefs they own Where by the eagle's plumage known. The hunted red-deer's undressed hide Their hairy buskins well supplied ; The graceful bonnet decked their head; Back from their shoulders hung the plaid ;

A broad-sword of unwieldy length;
A dagger, proved for edge and strength;

A studded targe they wore,
And quivers, bows, and shafts,—but, O!
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow,

To that which England bore.
The Isles-men carried at their backs
The ancient Danish battle-ax.

They raised a wild and wondering cry,
As with his guide rode Marmion by.
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,
And, with their cries discordant mixed,
Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwist.

VI.
Thus through the Scottish Camp they passed,
And reached the City gate at last,
Where all around, a wakeful guard,
Armed burghers kept their watch and ward.
Well had they cause of jealous fear,
When lay encamped, in field so near,
The Borderer and the Mountaineer.
As through the bustling streets they go,
All was alive with martial show;
At every turn, with dinning clang,
The armourer's anvil clashed and rang;
Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel
The bar that arms the charger's heel;
Or ax, or falchion, to the side
Of jarring grindstone was applied.

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace,
Through street, and lane, and market-place,

Bore lance, or casque, or sword;
While burghers, with important face,

Described each new-come lord ;

Discussed his lineage, told his name,

His following,* and his warlike fame.
The Lion led to lodging meet,
Which high o’erlooked the crowded street;

There must the Baron rest,
Till past the bour of vesper tide,
And then to Holy-Rood must ride,

Such was the King's behest.
Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns
A banquet rich, and costly wines,

To Marmion and his train.
The Baron donned his peaceful weeds
And following Lindesay as he leads,

The palace-halls they gain.

VII.
Old Holy-Rood rung merrily,
That night, with wassel, game, and glee:
King James within her princely bower
Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power,
Summoned to spend the parting hour;

For he had charged, that his array
Should southward march by break of day.
Well loved that splendid monarch aye

The banquet and the song,

* Following-Feudal Retainers.

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