’To stout Saint George of Norwich merry,
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury,
Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, 410
For his sins’ pardon hath he pray’d. 
He knows the passes of the North,
And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth;
Little he eats, and long will wake,
And drinks but of the stream or lake. 415
This were a guide o’er moor and dale;
But, when our John hath quaff’d his ale,
As little as the wind that blows,
And warms itself against his nose,
Kens he, or cares, which way he goes.’—­ 420

XXV.

‘Gramercy!’ quoth Lord Marmion,
’Full loth were I, that Friar John,
That venerable man, for me,
Were placed in fear or jeopardy. 
If this same Palmer will me lead 425
  From hence to Holy-Rood,
Like his good saint, I’ll pay his meed,
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead,
  With angels fair and good. 
I love such holy ramblers; still 430
They know to charm a weary hill,
  With song, romance, or lay: 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,
Some lying legend, at the least,
  They bring to cheer the way.’—­ 435

XXVI.

‘Ah! noble sir,’ young Selby said,
And finger on his lip he laid,
’This man knows much, perchance e’en more
Than he could learn by holy lore. 
Still to himself he’s muttering, 440
And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 
Last night we listen’d at his cell;
Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell,
He murmur’d on till morn, howe’er
No living mortal could be near. 445
Sometimes I thought I heard it plain,
As other voices spoke again. 
I cannot tell—­I like it not—­
Friar John hath told us it is wrote,
No conscience clear, and void of wrong, 450
Can rest awake, and pray so long. 
Himself still sleeps before his beads
Have mark’d ten aves, and two creeds.’—­

XXVII.

—­’Let pass,’ quoth Marmion; ’by my fay,
This man shall guide me on my way, 455
Although the great arch-fiend and he
Had sworn themselves of company. 
So please you, gentle youth, to call
This Palmer to the Castle-hall.’ 
The summon’d Palmer came in place; 460
His sable cowl o’erhung his face;
In his black mantle was he clad,
With Peter’s keys, in cloth of red,
  On his broad shoulders wrought;
The scallop shell his cap did deck; 465
The crucifix around his neck
  Was from Loretto brought;
His sandals were with travel tore,
Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore;
The faded palm-branch in his hand 470
Show’d pilgrim from the Holy Land.