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Walter Scott - Marmion: Canto V. - The Court
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Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall
The maiden in Tantallon Hall."

XXXI.

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain,
Assumed her wonted state again -
   For much of state she had -
Composed her veil, and raised her head,
And—"Bid," in solemn voice she said,
   "Thy master, bold and bad,
The records of his house turn o`er,
   And when he shall there written see,
   That one of his own ancestry
   Drove the monks forth of Coventry,
Bid him his fate explore.
   Prancing in pride of earthly trust,
   His charger hurled him to the dust,
   And, by a base plebeian thrust,
He died his band before.
   God judge `twixt Marmion and me;
   He is a chief of high degree,
And I a poor recluse;
   Yet oft, in Holy Writ, we see
   Even such weak minister as me
May the oppressor bruise:
   For thus, inspired, did Judith slay
      The mighty in his sin,
   And Jael thus, and Deborah" -
      Here hasty Blount broke in:-
"Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band;
Saint Anton` fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day, with bonnet in thy hand,
   To hear the lady preach?
By this good light! if thus we stay,
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,
   Will sharper sermon teach.
Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse;
The dame must patience take perforce."

XXXII.

"Submit we, then, to force," said Clare,
"But let this barbarous lord despair
   His purposed aim to win;
Let him take living, land, and life;
But to be Marmion`s wedded wife
   In me were deadly sin:
And if it be the king`s decree
That I must find no sanctuary
In that inviolable dome
Where even a homicide might come
   And safely rest his head,
Though at its open portals stood,
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood,
   The kinsmen of the dead;
Yet one asylum is my own
   Against the dreaded hour -
A low, a silent, and a lone,
   Where kings have little power.
One victim is before me there.
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer
Remember your unhappy Clare!"
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows
   Kind blessings many a one:
Weeping and wailing loud arose
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes
   Of every simple nun.
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide.
   Then took the squire her rein,
And gently led away her steed,
And, by each courteous word and deed,
   To cheer her strove in vain.

XXXIII.

But scant three miles the band had rode,
   When o`er a height they passed,
And, sudden, close before them showed
   His towers, Tantallon vast;
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far,
And held impregnable in war,
On a projecting rock they rose,
And round three sides the ocean flows,
The fourth did battled walls enclose,
   And double mound and fosse.
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong,
Through studded gates, an entrance long,
   To the main court they cross;
It was a wide and stately square;
Around were lodgings, fit and fair,
   And towers of various form,
Which on the court projected far,
And broke its lines quadrangular.
Here was square keep, there turret high,
Or pinnacle that sought the sky,
Whence oft the warder could descry
   The gathering ocean-storm.

XXXIV.

Here did they rest.  The princely care
Of Douglas, why should I declare,
Or say they met reception fair?
   Or why the tidings say,
Which, varying, to Tantallon came,
By hurrying posts or fleeter fame,
   With every varying day?
And, first, they heard King James had won
   Etall, and Wark, and Ford; and then
   That Norham Castle strong was ta`en.
At that sore marvelled Marmion;
And Douglas hoped his monarch`s hand
Would soon subdue Northumberland:
   But whispered news there came,
That, while his host inactive lay,
And melted by degrees away,
King James was dallying off the day
   With Heron`s wily dame.
Such acts to chronicles I yield:
   Go seek them there and see;
Mine is a tale of Flodden Field,
   And not a history.
At length they heard the Scottish host
On that high ridge had made their post
   Which frowns o`er Milfield Plain,
And that brave Surrey many a band
Had gathered in the Southern land,
And marched into Northumberland,
   And camp at Wooler ta`en.
Marmion, like charger in the stall,
That hears, without, the trumpet call,
   Began to chafe and swear:
"A sorry thing to hide my head
In castle, like a fearful maid,
   When such a field is near!
Needs must I see this battle-day;
Death to my fame if such a fray
Were fought, and Marmion away!
The Douglas, too, I wot not why,
Hath `bated of his courtesy:
No longer in his halls I`ll stay."
Then bade his band they should array
For march against the dawning day.
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