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“ Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion ::

But first I pray thee fair,
Where hast thou left that page of thine,
That used to serve thy cup of wine,

Whose beauty was so rare?
When last in Raby towers we met,

The boy I closely eyed,
And often' marked his cheeks were wet

With tears he fain would hide :
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand,
To burnish shield, or sharpen brand,

Or saddle battle-steed;
But meeter seemed for lady fair,
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair,
Or through embroidery, rich and rare,

The slender silk to lead :
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold,

His bosom—when he sigh’d,
The russet doublet's rugged fold "

Could scarce repel its pride!

Say, hast thou given that lovely youth

To serve in lady's bower?
Or was the gentle page, in sooth,

A gentle paramour ?”—

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest;

He rolled his kindling eye,
With pain bis rising wrath suppressed,

Yet made a calm reply: “ That boy thou thought’st so goodly fair,

He might not brook the northern air. More of his fate if thou would’st learn,

I left him sick in Lindisfarn :
Enough of him.—But, Heron, say,

Why does thy lovely lady gay
Disdain to grace the hall to-day?
Or has that dame, so fair and sage,
Gone on some pious pilgrimage?”-

He spoke in covert scorn, for fame
Whispered light tales of Heron's dame.

XVII. Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt,

Careless the Knight replied,
“ No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt,

Delights in cage to bide :
Norham is grim, and grated close,
Hemmed in by battlement and fosse,

And many, a darksome tower;,
And better loves my lady bright,
To sit in liberty and light,

In fair Queen Margaret's bower.
We hold our greyhound in our hand,

Our falcon on our glove;
But where shall we find leash or band,

For dame that loves to rove?
Let the wild falcon soar her swing,
She'll stoop when she has tired her wing."-

XVIII. “ Nay, if with Royal James's bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a messenger, Your tender greetings prompt to bear ; For, to the Scottish court addressed, I journey at our king's behest, And pray you, of your grace, provide For me, and mine, a trusty guide. I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed the cause of that mock prince, Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. Then did I march with Surrey's power, What time we razed old Ayton tower."


“ For such like need, my lord, I trow, Norham can find you guides enow;

For here be some have pricked as far
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar;
Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ;
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods,
And given them light to set their hoods.”—

XX. “ Now, in good sooth,” Lord Marmion cried, Were I in warlike-wise to ride, A better guard I would not lack, Than your stout forayers at my back: But, as in form of peace I go, A friendly messenger, to know, Why through all Scotland, near and far, Their king is mustering troops for war, The sight of plundering Border spears Might justify suspicious fears, And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, Break out in some unseemly broil :

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