Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square, Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol,* there O'er the pavilions flew. Highest, and midmost, was descried The royal banner floating wide; The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight, Pitched deeply in a massive stone, Which still in memory is shown, Yet bent beneath the standard's weight, Whene'er the western wind unrolled, With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, And gave to view the dazzling field, Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. XXIX. Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright, He viewed it with a chief's delight, * Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of those entitled to display them. Until within him burned his heart, And lightning from his eye did part, As on the battle-day ;— Such glance did falcon never dart, When stooping on his prey. "Oh! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said, Thy King from warfare to dissuade Were but a vain essay; For, by Saint George, were that host mine, Not power infernal, nor divine, Should once to peace my soul incline, Till I had dimmed their armour's shine, In glorious battle fray !"— Answered the bard, of milder mood: "Fair is the sight,—and yet 'twere good, That kings would think withal, When peace and wealth their land has blessed,. 'Tis better to sit still at rest, Than rise, perchance to fall." XXX. Still on the spot Lord Marmion stayed, For fairer scene he ne'er surveyed, When, sated with the martial show That peopled all the plain below, With gloomy splendour red; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Mine own romantic town! But northward far, with purer blaze, On Ochil mountains fell the rays, Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ; Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law; The gallant Firth the eye might note, Whose islands on its bosom float, Like emeralds chased in gold. Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent; The spur he to his charger lent, And raised his bridle-hand, And, making demi-volte in air, Cried, "Where's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land!" The Lindesay smiled his joy to see ; Nor Marmion's frown repressed his glee. XXXI. Thus while they looked, a flourish proud, Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, And fife, and kettle-drum, And sackbut deep, and psaltery, And war-pipe with discordant cry, And cymbal clattering to the sky, Making wild music bold and high, The whilst the bells, with distant chime, And thus the Lindesay spoke : "Thus clamour still the war-notes when The King to mass his way has ta'en, Or to Saint Catherine's of Sienne, Or chapel of Saint Rocque. To you they speak of martial fame; When blither was their cheer, |