First by Achaius borne,
  The thistle and the fleur-de-lis,
    And gallant unicorn. 
So bright the King’s armorial coat, 145
That scarce the dazzled eye could note,
In living colours, blazon’d brave,
The Lion, which his title gave;
A train, which well beseem’d his state,
But all unarm’d, around him wait. 150
  Still is thy name in high account,
    And still thy verse has charms,
  Sir David Lindesay of the Mount,
    Lord Lion King-at-arms!

VIII.

Down from his horse did Marmion spring, 155
Soon as he saw the Lion-King;
For well the stately Baron knew
To him such courtesy was due,
Whom Royal James himself had crown’d,
And on his temples placed the round 160
  Of Scotland’s ancient diadem: 
And wet his brow with hallow’d wine,
And on his finger given to shine
  The emblematic gem. 
Their mutual greetings duly made, 165
The Lion thus his message said:—­
’Though Scotland’s King hath deeply swore
Ne’er to knit faith with Henry more,
And strictly hath forbid resort
From England to his royal court; 170
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion’s name,
And honours much his warlike fame,
My liege hath deem’d it shame, and lack
Of courtesy, to turn him back;
And, by his order, I, your guide, 175
Must lodging fit and fair provide,
Till finds King James meet time to see
The flower of English chivalry.’

IX.

Though inly chafed at this delay,
Lord Marmion bears it as he may. 180
The Palmer, his mysterious guide,
Beholding thus his place supplied,
  Sought to take leave in vain: 
Strict was the Lion-King’s command,
That none, who rode in Marmion’s band, 185
  Should sever from the train: 
’England has here enow of spies
In Lady Heron’s witching eyes;’
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said,
But fair pretext to Marmion made. 190
The right hand path they now decline,
And trace against the stream the Tyne.

X.

At length up that wild dale they wind,
  Where Crichtoun Castle crowns the bank;
For there the Lion’s care assign’d 195
  A lodging meet for Marmion’s rank. 
That Castle rises on the steep
  Of the green vale of Tyne: 
And far beneath, where slow they creep,
From pool to eddy, dark and deep, 200
Where alders moist, and willows weep,
  You hear her streams repine. 
The towers in different ages rose;
Their various architecture shows
  The builders’ various hands; 205
A mighty mass, that could oppose,
When deadliest hatred fired its foes,
  The vengeful Douglas bands.