V.

Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race,
Of different language, form, and face,
  A various race of man;
Just then the Chiefs their tribes array’d, 105
And wild and garish semblance made,
The chequer’d trews, and belted plaid,
And varying notes the war-pipes bray’d,
  To every varying clan,
Wild through their red or sable hair 110
Look’d out their eyes with savage stare,
  On Marmion as he pass’d;
Their legs above the knee were bare;
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,
  And harden’d to the blast; 115
Of taller race, the chiefs they own
Were by the eagle’s plumage known. 
The hunted red-deer’s undress’d hide
Their hairy buskins well supplied;
The graceful bonnet deck’d their head:  120
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid;
A broadsword of unwieldy length,
A dagger proved for edge and strength,
  A studded targe they wore,
And quivers, bows, and shafts,—­but, O! 125
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow,
  To that which England bore. 
The Isles-men carried at their backs
The ancient Danish battle-axe. 
They raised a wild and wondering cry, 130
As with his guide rode Marmion by. 
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,
And, with their cries discordant mix’d,
Grumbled and yell’d the pipes betwixt. 135

VI.

Thus through the Scottish camp they pass’d,
And reach’d the City gate at last,
Where all around, a wakeful guard,
Arm’d burghers kept their watch and ward. 
Well had they cause of jealous fear, 140
When lay encamp’d, in field so near,
The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 
As through the bustling streets they go,
All was alive with martial show: 
At every turn, with dinning clang, 145
The armourer’s anvil clash’d and rang;
Or toil’d the swarthy smith, to wheel
The bar that arms the charger’s heel;
Or axe, or falchion, to the side
Of jarring grindstone was applied. 150
Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace
Through street, and lane, and market-place,
  Bore lance, or casque, or sword;
While burghers, with important face,
  Described each new-come lord, 155
Discuss’d his lineage, told his name,
His following, and his warlike fame. 
The Lion led to lodging meet,
Which high o’erlook’d the crowded street;
  There must the Baron rest, 160
Till past the hour of vesper tide,
And then to Holy-Rood must ride,—­
  Such was the King’s behest. 
Meanwhile the Lion’s care assigns
A banquet rich, and costly wines, 165
  To Marmion and his train;
And when the appointed hour succeeds,
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,
And following Lindesay as he leads,
The palace-halls they gain. 170