But stopped, because that woeful maid, XXVI. At length, an effort sent apart The blood that curdled to her heart, And colour dawned upon her cheek, A hectic and a fluttered streak, Like that left on the Cheviot peak, By Autumn's stormy sky; And when her silence broke at length, Still as she spoke, she gathered strength, And arm'd herself to bear. It was a fearful sight to see Such high resolve and constancy, 66 In form so soft and fair. XXVII. "I speak not to implore your grace; Nor do I speak your prayers to gain; To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, Vain are your masses too.― I listened to a traitor's tale, I left the convent and the veil, For three long years I bowed my pride, But, did my fate and wish agree, Of maiden true betrayed for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me. XXVIII. "The king approved his favourite's aim; In vain a rival barred his claim, Whose faith with Clare's was plight, For he attaints that rival's fame With treason's charge-and on they came, In mortal lists to fight. Their oaths are said, Their prayers are prayed, Their lances in the rest are laid, They meet in mortal shock; And hark! the throng, with thundering cry, Shout 66 Marmion, Marmion, to the sky! De Wilton to the block!" Say ye, who preach heaven shall decide, Wilton found overthrow or death, Beneath a traitor's spear. How false the charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell ” Then drew a packet from her breast, Paused, gathered voice, and spoke the rest. XXIX. "Still was false Marmion's bridal staid; To Whitby's convent fled the maid, The hated match to shun. Ho! shifts she thus?' king Henry cried, ‹ Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, If she were sworn a nun.' One way remained—the king's command This caitiff monk, for gold, did swear, A saint in heaven should be. But ill the dastard kept his oath, Whose cowardice hath undone us both. XXX. "And now my tongue the secret tells, Not that remorse my bosom swells, |