Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, And thank'd the Scottish Prioress : And tedious were to tell, I ween, The courteous speech that pass'd between. O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave; But when fair Clara did intend, Like them, from horseback to descend, Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, Such gentle company to part;— Think not discourtesy, But lords' commands must be obey'd; And Marmion and the Douglas said, That you must wend with me. Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, Commanding, that, beneath his care, Without delay, you shall repair To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare." XXX. The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd; But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,― She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. "Cheer thee, my child!" the Abbess said, They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band." "Nay, holy mother, nay," Fitz-Eustace said, "the lovely Clare In Scotland while we stay; And, when we move, an easy ride, Will bring us to the English side, Female attendance to provide Befitting Gloster's heir: Nor thinks, nor dreams my noble lord, By slightest look, or act, or word, To harass Lady Clare. Her faithful guardian he will be, Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e'en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace; And Clare's worst fear relieved. The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, To curse with candle, bell, and book. Her head the grave Cistertian shook : "The Douglas, and the King," she said, "In their commands will be obey'd; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall." XXXI. The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, Assumed her wonted state again,- For much of state she had, Composed her veil, and raised her head, And-" Bid," in solemn voice she said, "Thy master bold and bad, The records of his house turn o'er, And, when he there shall written see, That one of his own ancestry Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, Bid him his fate explore; Prancing in pride of earthly trust, His charger hurl'd him to the dust, And, by a base plebeian thrust, He died his band before. God judge 'twixt Marmion and me; He is a chief of high degree, And I a poor recluse ; Yet oft, in holy writ, we see Even such weak minister as me May the oppressor bruise : For thus, inspired, did Judith slay The mighty in his sin, And Jael thus, and Deborah,”. Here hasty Blount broke in : "Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band ; St Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, Will sharper sermon teach. Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce." XXXII. "Submit we then to force," said Clare; "But let this barbarous lord despair His purposed aim to win; |