Some clamoured loud for armour lost; Some brawled and wrangled with the host; Last night he dressed him sleek and fair. Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, Help, gentle Blount! help, comrades all! Bevis lies dying in his stall: To Marmion who the plight dare tell, Of the good steed he loves so well?”— The charger panting on his straw; Till one, who would seem wisest, cried,— "What else but evil could betide, With that cursed Palmer for our guide? Better we had through mire and bush Been lanthorn-led by Friar Rush." * II. Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guessed, Nor wholly understood, His comrades' clamorous plaints suppressed; He knew Lord Marmion's mood. Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, And did his tale display Simply, as if he knew of nought To cause such disarray. Lord Marmion gave attention cold, Nor marvelled at the wonders told,— Passed them as accidents of course, * Alias Will o' the Wisp.-See Note. III. Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost Had reckoned with their Scottish host; And, as the charge he cast and paid, "Ill thou deserv'st thy hire," he said; "Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight? Fairies have ridden him all the night, And left him in a foam! I trust, that soon a conjuring band, With English cross, and blazing brand, Shall drive the devils from this land, To their infernal home: For in this haunted den, I trow, All night they trampled to and fro.”- Here stayed their talk,-for Marmion Gave now the signal to set on. The Palmer shewing forth the way, They journeyed all the morning day. IV. The green-sward way was smooth and good, Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood; There narrower closed, till over head A vaulted screen the branches made. "A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said; Adventures of high chivalry; Might meet some damsel flying fast, With hair unbound, and looks aghast; And smooth and level course were here, In her defence to break a spear. Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells; And oft, in such, the story tells, The damsel kind, from danger freed, Did grateful pay her champion's meed."He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind; Perchance to shew his lore designed; For Eustace much had pored Upon a huge romantic tome, Imprinted at the antique dome Of Caxton, or De Worde. Therefore he spoke,-but spoke in vain, For Marmion answered nought again. V. Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, In notes prolonged by wood and hill, Each ready archer grasped his bow; They breathed no point of war. Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, |