"Welcome to Norham, Marmion!

Stout heart, and open hand!

Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan,
Thou flower of English land!"-

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,

They hailed Lord Marmion:

They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye,

Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye,

Of Tamworth tower and town;

And he, their courtesy to requite,

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,

Ne'er guarded heart so bold."

XII.

They marshall'd him to the castle-hall,

Where the guests stood all aside,

And loudly flourished the trumpet-call,

And the heralds loudly cried,—

"Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion,

With the crest and helm of gold!

Full well we know the trophies won

In the lists at Cottiswold:

There, vainly, Ralph de Wilton strove

'Gainst Marmion's force to stand;

To him he lost his ladye-love,

And to the king his land.

The cry by which the heralds expressed their thanks for the bounty of the nobles.

Ourselves beheld the listed field,

A sight both sad and fair;

We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield,

And saw his saddle bare;

We saw the victor win the crest,

He wears with worthy pride;

And on the gibbet-tree, reversed,
His foeman's scutcheon tied.

Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight!
Room, room, ye gentles gay,

For him who conquered in the right,

Marmion of Fontenaye!"—

XIII.

Then stepped to meet that noble lord

Sir Hugh the Heron bold,

Baron of Twisell, and of Ford,

And Captain of the Hold.

He led Lord Marmion to the deas,

Raised o'er the pavement high,

And placed him in the upper place—

They feasted full and high:

The whiles a Northern harper rude

Chaunted a rhyme of deadly feud,

"How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all,

Stout Willimondswick,

And Hard-riding Dick,

And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh,

And taken his life at the Deadman's-shaw."—*

Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook

The harper's barbarous lay;

Yet much he praised the pains he took,
And well those pains did pay:

For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain,

By knight should ne'er be heard in vain.

XIV.

"Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says,

"Of your fair courtesy,

* The rest of this old ballad may be found in the note.

I pray you

bide some little

space,

In this poor tower with me.

Here may you keep your arms from rust, May breathe your war-horse well;

Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust

Or feat of arms befel :

The Scots can rein a mettled steed,
And love to couch a spear;—
St. George! a stirring life they lead,
⚫ That have such neighbours near.
Then stay with us a little space,

And

gave a squire the sign;

A mighty wassell bowl he took,

And crown'd it high with wine.