Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/157

For monarchs ill can rivals brook,
Even in a word, or smile, or look.
Straight took he forth the parchment broad,
Which Marmion's high commission show'd:
380'Our Borders sack'd by many a raid,
Our peaceful liege-men robb'd,' he said;
'On day of truce our Warden slain,
Stout Barton kill'd, his vessels ta'en—
Unworthy were we here to reign,
385Should these for vengeance cry in vain;
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn,
Our herald has to Henry borne.'

XIV.
He paused, and led where Douglas stood,
And with stern eye the pageant view'd:
390I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore,
Who coronet of Angus bore,
And, when his blood and heart were high,
Did the third James in camp defy,
And all his minions led to die
395 On Lauder's dreary flat:
Princes and favourites long grew tame,
And trembled at the homely name
 Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat;
The same who left the dusky vale
400Of Hermitage in Liddisdale,
 Its dungeons, and its towers,
Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air,
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair,
 To fix his princely bowers.
405Though now, in age, he had laid down
His armour for the peaceful gown,
 And for a staff his brand,
Yet often would flash forth the fire,
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire
410 And minion's pride withstand;