XXII.

Himself he swift on horseback threw,
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu;

Far less would listen to his prayer,
To leave behind the helpless Clare.
Down to the Tweed his band he drew,
And muttered, as the flood they view,
“The pheasant in the falcon's claw,
He scarce will yield to please a daw :
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe,

So Clare shall bide with me."

Then on that dangerous ford, and deep, Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep, He ventured desperately;

And not a moment will he bide,

Till squire, or groom, before him ride;

Headmost of all he stems the tide,

And stems it gallantly.

Eustace held Clare upon her horse,
Old Hubert led her rein,

Stoutly they braved the current's course,

And, though far downward driven per force, The southern bank they gain;

Behind them, straggling, came to shore,

As best they might, the train :
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore,

A caution not in vain ;

Deep need that day that every string,
By wet unharmed, should sharply ring.
A moment then Lord Marmion staid,
And breathed his steed, his men arrayed,
Then forward moved his band,
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won,
He halted by a cross of stone,

That, on a hillock standing lone,

Did all the field command.

XXIII.

Hence might they see the full array

Of either host, for deadly fray;

Their marshalled lines stretched east and west,

And fronted north and south,

And distant salutation past

From the loud cannon mouth ;

Not in the close successive rattle,

That breathes the voice of modern battle,
But slow and far between.—

The hillock gained, Lord Marmion staid :

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Here, by this cross," he gently said,

"You well may view the scene.

Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare :
O! think of Marmion in thy prayer!--
Thou wilt not?-well,-no less my care
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.――
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard,
With ten picked archers of my train ;
With England if the day go hard,
To Berwick speed amain.—
But, if we conquer, cruel maid!

My spoils shall at your feet be laid,

When here we meet again.”—

He waited not for answer there,

Nor marked the lady's deep despair,
Nor heeded discontented look

From either squire; but spurred amain,
And, dashing through the battle-plain,
His way to Surrey took.

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XXV.

-The good Lord Marmion, by my life! Welcome to danger's hour !--

Short greeting serves in time of strife :

Thus have I ranged my power:

Myself will rule this central host,
Stout Stanley has the right,

My sons command the vaward post,
With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight;
Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,
'Shall be in rear-ward of the fight,
And succour those that need it most.
Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,
Would gladly to the vanguard go;

Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstal there,

With thee their charge will blithely share; There fight thine own retainers too,

Beneath De Burg, thy steward true.”--

Thanks, noble Surrey!" Marmion said, Nor further greeting there he paid; But, parting like a thunder-bolt, First in the vanguard made a halt, Where such a shout there rose Of "Marmion! Marmion!" that the cry Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, Startled the Scottish foes.

XXVI.

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still
With Lady Clare upon the hill;
On which, (for far the day was spent,)
The western sun-beams now were bent.
The cry they heard, its meaning knew,
Could plain their distant comrades view :