tower

To watch her love's returning.

All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,
Her form decayed by pining,
Till through her wasted hand at night
You saw the taper shining;
By fits, a sultry hectic hue

Across her cheek was flying;
By fits, so ashy pale she grew,

Her maidens thought her dying.

Yet keenest powers to see and hear
, Seemed in her frame residing;
Before the watch-dog pricked his ear,
She heard her lover's riding;
Ere scarce a distant form was kenned,
She knew, and waved to greet him;
And o'er the battlement did bend,
As on the wing to meet him.

He came--he passed-an heedless gaze,
As o'er some stranger glancing;
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,
Lost in his courser's prancing--
The castle arch, whose hollow tone
Returns each whisper spoken,
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan
Which told her heart was broken.

HUNTING SONG

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,

On the mountain dawns the day, All the jolly chase is here,

1806.

With hawk and horse and hunting

spear!

Hounds are in their couples yelling,

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,
Merrily, merrily, mingle they,
"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
The mist has left the mountain gray,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming :
And foresters have busy been
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,

66

Waken, lords and ladies gay."

112

P entrance free, ready be.

Sound his glee, ets blow: torm, spare ye not vo-shot:

waits below!" e's lower ward men tall. dgates unbarred, tcutis ponderous guard Sie unsparred. drawbridge fall.

Liige Lord Marmion rode, red-roan charger trode, ng at the sad lie bow; is visage you might know i stalworth knight and keen, in many a battle been ;,

on his brown chees revealed true of Bosworth field; row dark and eve of fire spirit proud and prompt to ire mas of thought upon his cheek op design and counsel speak. is casque worn bare STRAK POStaðan Teurly hair. black and grizzled here and ther But mere threų, à teil tëan age,

We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield,
And saw his saddle bare;
We saw the victor win the crest
He wears with worthy pride,
And on the gibbet tree, reversed,
His foeman's scutcheon tied.
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight!
Room, room, ye gentles gay.
For him who conquered in the right,
Marmion of Fontenaye!"

Then stepped, to meet that noble lord,
Sir Hugh the Heron bold,
Baron of Twisell and of Ford,

And Captain of the Hold;

He led Lord Marmion to the deas,
Raised o'er the pavement high,
And placed him in the upper place-
They feasted full and high:
The whiles a Northern harper rude
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud,

"How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all,

Stout Willimondswick,

And Hardriding Dick,

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall,

Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh,

And taken his life at the Dead-man's

shaw."

Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook

The harper's barbarous lay, Yet much he praised the pains he took, And well those pains did pay For lady's suit and minstrel's strain By knight should ne'er be heard in vain.

"Now good Lord Marmion," Heron says, "Of your fair courtesy,

I pray you bide some little space
In this poor tower with me.
Here may you keep your arms from rust,
May breathe your war-horse well;
Seldom hath passed a week but joust
Or feat of arms befell.

The Scots can rein a mettled steed,

nd love to couch a spear ;

Saint George! a stirring life they lead That have such neighbors near ! Then stay with us a little space,

And crowned it high with wine. "Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion; But first I pray thee fair,

Where hast thou left that page of thine
That used to serve thy cup of wine,
Whose beauty was so rare ?

When last in Raby-towers we met,
The boy I closely eyed,

And often marked his cheeks were wet
With tears he fain would hide.
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand,
To burnish shield or sharpen brand,
Or saddle battle-steed,

But meeter seemed for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare,
The slender silk to lead;

His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,
His bosom-when he sighed,

The russet doublet's rugged fold
Could scarce repel its pride!
Say, hast thou given that lovely youth
To serve in lady's bower?

Or was the gentle page, in sooth,
A gentle paramour?

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest:
He rolled his kindling eye,

With pain his rising wrath suppressed, Yet made a calm reply;

66

That boy thou thought so goodly fair, He might not brook the Northern air. More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, I left him sick in Lindisfarne. Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, Why does thy lovely lady gay Disdain to grace the hall to-day? Or has that dame, so fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage? He spoke in covert scorn, for fame Whispered light tales of Heron's dame.

Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, Careless the knight replied:

"No bird whose feathers gaily flaunt
Delights in cage to bide;

Norham is grim and grated close,
Hemmed in by battlement and fosse,

And many a darksome tower,
And better loves my lady bright
To sit in liberty and light

In fair Queen Margaret's bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove,

But where shall we find leash or band For dame that loves to rove?

Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She'll stoop when she has tried her wing."

"Nay, if with Royal James's bride
The lovely Lady Heron bide,
Behold me here a messenger,
Your tender greetings prompt to bear;
For, to the Scottish court addressed,
I journey at our king's behest,
And pray you, of your grace, provide
For me and mine a trusty guide.

I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed the cause of that mock prince,

Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat.
Then did I march with Surrey's power,
What time we razed old Ayton tower."-

"For such-like need, my lord, I trow,
Norham can find you guides enow;
For here be some have pricked as far
On Scottish grounds as to Dunbar,
Have drunk the monks of Saint
Bethan's ale,

And driven the beeves of Lauderdale,
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods,
And given them light to set their
hoods."

"Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried,

"Were I in warlike-wise to ride,
A better guard I would not lack
Than your stout forayers at my back;
But as in form of peace I go,

A friendly messenger, to know,
Why, through all Scotland, near and
far.

Their king is mustering troops for war,
The sight of plundering Border spears
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud or thirst of spoil
Break out in some unseemly broil.
A herald were my fitting guide;
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;
Or pardoner, or travelling priest,
Or strolling pilgrim, at the least."

The Captain mused a little space,
And passed his hand across his face.
Fain would I find the guide you want,
But ill may spare a pursuivant,
The only men that safe can ride
Mine errands on the Scottish side:
And though a bishop built this fort,
Few holy brethren here resort;
Even our good chaplain, as I ween,
Since our last siege we have not seen,
The mass he might not sing or say
Upon one stinted meal a day;
So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,

And prayed for our success the while.
Our Norham vicar, woe betide,
Is all too well in case to ride;
The priest of Shores wood--he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train,
But then no spearman in the hall
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man ;
A blithesome brother at the can,
A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,
In which the wine and ale is good,
"Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood.
But that good man, as ill befalls,
Hath seldom left our castle walls,
Since, on the vigil of Saint Bede,
In evil hour he crossed the Tweed,
To teach Dame Alison her creed.
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife, 1
And John, an enemy to strife,
Sans frock and hood, fled for his life.
The jealous churl hath deeply sworn
That, if again he venture o'er
He shall shrieve penitent no more.
Little he loves such risks, I know,
Yet in your guard perchance will go."

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board.
Carved to his uncle and that lord,
And reverently took up the word:
"Kind uncle, woe were we each one,
If harm should hap to brother John.
He is a man of mirthful speech,
Can many a game and gambol teach;
Full well at tables can he play,
And sweep at bowls the stake away.
None can a lustier carol bawl,
The needfullest among us all,

When time hangs heavy in the hall,
And snow comes thick at Christmas