’Nay, if with Royal James’s bride
The lovely Lady Heron bide,
Behold me here a messenger, 290
Your tender greetings prompt to bear;
For, to the Scottish court address’d,
I journey at our King’s behest,
And pray you, of your grace, provide
For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 295
I have not ridden in Scotland since
James back’d the cause of that mock prince,
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit,
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 
Then did I march with Surrey’s power, 300
What time we razed old Ayton tower.’—­

XIX.

’For such-like need, my lord, I trow,
Norham can find you guides enow;
For here be some have prick’d as far,
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar; 305
Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan’s ale,
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale;
Harried the wives of Greenlaw’s goods,
And given them light to set their hoods.’—­

XX.

‘Now, in good sooth,’ Lord Marmion cried, 310
’Were I in warlike wise to ride,
A better guard I would not lack,
Than your stout forayers at my back;
But as in form of peace I go,
A friendly messenger, to know, 315
Why through all Scotland, near and far,
Their King is mustering troops for war,
The sight of plundering Border spears
Might justify suspicious fears,
And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 320
Break out in some unseemly broil: 
A herald were my fitting guide;
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide;
Or pardoner, or travelling priest,
Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.’ 325

XXI.

The Captain mused a little space,
And pass’d his hand across his face. 
—­’Fain would I find the guide you want,
But ill may spare a pursuivant,
The only men that safe can ride 330
Mine errands on the Scottish side: 
And though a bishop built this fort,
Few holy brethren here resort;
Even our good chaplain, as I ween,
Since our last siege, we have not seen:  335
The mass he might not sing or say,
Upon one stinted meal a-day;
So, safe he sat in Durham aisle,
And pray’d for our success the while. 
Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 340
Is all too well in case to ride;
The priest of Shoreswood—­he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train;
But then, no spearman in the hall
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 345
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man: 
A blithesome brother at the can,
A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,