XV.

The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise; 445
Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake’s level brim: 
And when Lord Marmion reach’d his band,
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours, 450
And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 
‘Horse! horse!’ the Douglas cried, ‘and chase!’
But soon he rein’d his fury’s pace: 
’A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name.—­ 455
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. 
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, 460
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! 
Old age ne’er cools the Douglas blood, 465
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.’ 
With this his mandate he recalls, 470
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. 
His troop more closely there he scann’d, 475
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.’—­
‘In what array?’ said Marmion, quick. 480
’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,
And from a loop-hole while I peep, 485
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,
A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 490
By Archibald won in bloody work,
Against the Saracen and Turk: 
Last night it hung not in the hall;
I thought some marvel would befall. 
And next I saw them saddled lead 495
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl’s best steed;
A matchless horse, though something old,
Prompt to his paces, cool and bold. 
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say,
The Earl did much the Master pray 500
To use him on the battle-day;
But he preferr’d’—­’Nay, Henry, cease! 
Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace.—­
Eustace, thou bear’st a brain—­I pray,
What did Blount see at break of day?’ 505