Part 8 (2/2)

XIV.

Marmion, whose steady heart and eye Ne'er changed in worst extremity; Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 220 Even from his King, a haughty look; Whose accents of command controll'd, In camps, the boldest of the bold-- Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now, Fall'n was his glance, and flush'd his brow: 225 For either in the tone, Or something in the Palmer's look, So full upon his conscience strook, That answer he found none.

Thus oft it haps, that when within 230 They shrink at sense of secret sin, A feather daunts the brave; A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, And proudest princes vail their eyes Before their meanest slave. 235

XV.

Well might he falter!--By his aid Was Constance Beverley betray'd.

Not that he augur'd of the doom, Which on the living closed the tomb: But, tired to hear the desperate maid 240 Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid; And wroth, because, in wild despair, She practised on the life of Clare; Its fugitive the Church he gave, Though not a victim, but a slave; 245 And deem'd restraint in convent strange Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge, Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, Held Romish thunders idle fear, Secure his pardon he might hold, 250 For some slight mulct of penance-gold.

Thus judging, he gave secret way, When the stern priests surprised their prey.

His train but deem'd the favourite page Was left behind, to spare his age; 255 Or other if they deem'd, none dared To mutter what he thought and heard: Woe to the va.s.sal, who durst pry Into Lord Marmion's privacy!

XVI.

His conscience slept--he deem'd her well, 260 And safe secured in yonder cell; But, waken'd by her favourite lay, And that strange Palmer's boding say, That fell so ominous and drear, Full on the object of his fear, 265 To aid remorse's venom'd throes, Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose; And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, All lovely on his soul return'd; Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 270 She left her convent's peaceful wall, Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute, Dreading alike escape, pursuit, Till love, victorious o'er alarms, Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 275

'Alas!' he thought, 'how changed that mien!

How changed these timid looks have been, Since years of guilt, and of disguise, Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes!

No more of virgin terror speaks 280 The blood that mantles in her cheeks; Fierce, and unfeminine, are there, Frenzy for joy, for grief despair; And I the cause--for whom were given Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven!-- 285 Would,' thought he, as the picture grows, 'I on its stalk had left the rose!

Oh, why should man's success remove The very charms that wake his love!-- Her convent's peaceful solitude 290 Is now a prison harsh and rude; And, pent within the narrow cell, How will her spirit chafe and swell!

How brook the stern monastic laws!

The penance how--and I the cause!-- 295 Vigil, and scourge--perchance even worse!'-- And twice he rose to cry, 'To horse!'

And twice his Sovereign's mandate came, Like damp upon a kindling flame; And twice he thought, 'Gave I not charge 300 She should be safe, though not at large?

They durst not, for their island, shred One golden ringlet from her head.'

XVIII.

While thus in Marmion's bosom strove Repentance and reviving love, 305 Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, And, talkative, took up the word: 'Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 310 From Scotland's simple land away, To visit realms afar, Full often learn the art to know Of future weal, or future woe, By word, or sign, or star; 315 Yet might a knight his fortune hear, If, knight-like, he despises fear, Not far from hence;--if fathers old Aright our hamlet legend told.'-- These broken words the menials move, (For marvels still the vulgar love,) 320 And, Marmion giving license cold, His tale the host thus gladly told:--

XIX.

The Host's Tale

'A Clerk could tell what years have flown Since Alexander fill'd our throne, 325 (Third monarch of that warlike name,) And eke the time when here he came To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord: A braver never drew a sword; A wiser never, at the hour 330 Of midnight, spoke the word of power: The same, whom ancient records call The founder of the Goblin-Hall.

I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay Gave you that cavern to survey. 335 Of lofty roof, and ample size, Beneath the castle deep it lies: To hew the living rock profound, The floor to pave, the arch to round, There never toil'd a mortal arm, 340 It all was wrought by word and charm; And I have heard my grandsire say, That the wild clamour and affray Of those dread artisans of h.e.l.l, Who labour'd under Hugo's spell, 345 Sounded as loud as ocean's war, Among the caverns of Dunbar.

XX.

'The King Lord Gifford's castle sought, Deep labouring with uncertain thought; Even then he mustered all his host, 350 To meet upon the western coast; For Norse and Danish galleys plied Their oars within the Frith of Clyde.

There floated Haco's banner trim, Above Norweyan warriors grim, 355 Savage of heart, and large of limb; Threatening both continent and isle, Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle.

Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 360 And tarried not his garb to change, But, in his wizard habit strange, Came forth,--a quaint and fearful sight; His mantle lined with fox-skins white; His high and wrinkled forehead bore 365 A pointed cap, such as of yore Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore: His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell, Upon his breast a pentacle; His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 370 Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin, Bore many a planetary sign, Combust, and retrograde, and trine; And in his hand he held prepared, A naked sword without a guard. 375

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