166
MARMION.
A letter forged! Saint Jude to speed!
Did ever knight so foul a deed!
At first in heart it liked me ill,
When the King praised his clerkly skill.
460Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine,
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:
So swore I, and I swear it still,
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.—
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
465Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood,
I thought to slay him where he stood.
'Tis pity of him too,' he cried;
'Bold can he speak, and fairly ride,
I warrant him a warrior tried.'
470With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.
Did ever knight so foul a deed!
At first in heart it liked me ill,
When the King praised his clerkly skill.
460Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine,
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:
So swore I, and I swear it still,
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.—
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
465Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood,
I thought to slay him where he stood.
'Tis pity of him too,' he cried;
'Bold can he speak, and fairly ride,
I warrant him a warrior tried.'
470With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.
XVI.
The day in Marmion's journey wore;
Yet, e'er his passion's gust was o'er,
They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor.
475His troop more closely there he scann'd,
And miss'd the Palmer from the band.—
'Palmer or not,' young Blount did say,
'He parted at the peep of day;
Good sooth, it was in strange array.'—
480'In what array?' said Marmion, quick.
'My Lord, I ill can spell the trick;
But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
485And from a loop-hole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep,
Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
490A rusty shirt of mail I spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
The day in Marmion's journey wore;
Yet, e'er his passion's gust was o'er,
They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor.
475His troop more closely there he scann'd,
And miss'd the Palmer from the band.—
'Palmer or not,' young Blount did say,
'He parted at the peep of day;
Good sooth, it was in strange array.'—
480'In what array?' said Marmion, quick.
'My Lord, I ill can spell the trick;
But all night long, with clink and bang,
Close to my couch did hammers clang;
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang,
485And from a loop-hole while I peep,
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep,
Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair,
As fearful of the morning air;
Beneath, when that was blown aside,
490A rusty shirt of mail I spied,
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk:
