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But, hark! I hear the distant drum! The day of Flodden Field is come, Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, And store of literary wealth.

Μ Α R MIO N.

CANTO SIXTA.

THE BATTLE.

MARMION.

CANTO SIXTH.

THE BATTLE.

WHILE great events were on the gale,
And each hour brought a varying tale,
And the demeanour, changed and cold,
Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold,
And, like the impatient steed of war,
He snuffed the battle from afar ;
And hopes were none, that back again
Herald should come from Terouenne,
Where England's King in leaguer lay,
Before decisive battle-day ;
Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare
Did in the Dame's devotions share :
For the good Countess ceaseless pray'd
To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid,

And, with short interval, did pass
From prayer to book, from book to mass,
And all in high Baronial pride,–
A life both dull and dignified; —
Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press'd
Upon her intervals of rest,
Dejected Clara well could bear
The formal state, the lengthen'd prayer,
Though dearest to her wounded heart
The hours that she might spend apart.

II. I said, Tantallon’s dizzy steep Hung o'er the margin of the deep. Many a rude tower and rampart there Repelld the insult of the air, Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. Above the rest, a turret square Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; The Bloody Heart was in the Field, And in the chief three mullets stood, The cognizance of Douglas blood. The turret held a narrow stair, Which, mounted, gave you access where, A parapet's embattled row Did seaward round the castle go. 1 [MS.—“The tower contain'd a narrow stair,

And gave an open access where."]

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