Four men-at-arms came at their backs,
With halbert, bill, and battle-axe: 
They bore Lord Marmion’s lance so strong, 105
And led his sumpter-mules along,
And ambling palfrey, when at need
Him listed ease his battle-steed. 
The last and trustiest of the four,
On high his forky pennon bore; 110
Like swallow’s tail, in shape and hue,
Flutter’d the streamer glossy blue,
Where, blazon’d sable, as before,
The towering falcon seem’d to soar. 
Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, 115
In hosen black, and jerkins blue,
With falcons broider’d on each breast,
Attended on their lord’s behest. 
Each, chosen for an archer good,
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; 120
Each one a six-foot bow could bend,
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send;
Each held a boar-spear tough and strong,
And at their belts their quivers rung. 
Their dusty palfreys, and array, 125
Show’d they had march’d a weary way.

IX.

’Tis meet that I should tell you now,
How fairly arm’d, and order’d how,
  The soldiers of the guard,
With musket, pike, and morion, 130
To welcome noble Marmion,
  Stood in the Castle-yard;
Minstrels and trumpeters were there,
The gunner held his linstock yare,
  For welcome-shot prepared:  135
Enter’d the train, and such a clang,
As then through all his turrets rang,
  Old Norham never heard.

X.

The guards their morrice-pikes advanced,
  The trumpets flourish’d brave, 140
The cannon from the ramparts glanced,
  And thundering welcome gave. 
A blithe salute, in martial sort,
  The minstrels well might sound,
For, as Lord Marmion cross’d the court, 145
  He scatter’d angels round. 
’Welcome to Norham, Marmion! 
  Stout heart, and open hand! 
Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan,
  Thou flower of English land!’ 150

XI.

Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck,
With silver scutcheon round their neck,
  Stood on the steps of stone,
By which you reach the donjon gate,
And there, with herald pomp and state, 155
  They hail’d Lord Marmion: 
They hail’d him Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,
  Of Tamworth tower and town;
And he, their courtesy to requite, 160
Gave them a chain of twelve marks’ weight,
  All as he lighted down. 
’Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion,
  Knight of the crest of gold! 
A blazon’d shield, in battle won, 165
Ne’er guarded heart so bold.’