The spur-stroke failed to rouse the horse! Yet this may Argentine, As boon from ancient comrade, craveA Christian's mass, a soldier's grave.' Bruce pressed his dying hand-its grasp Kindly replied; but in his clasp 10 20 BATTLE OF FLODDEN MARMION CANTO VI.-Stanzas, 18-35 NEXT morn the baron climbed the tower, Encamped on Flodden edge: Long Marmion looked:-at length his eye Amid the shifting lines: The Scottish host drawn out appears, The eastern sunbeam shines. The Scots beheld the English host Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, And heedful watched them as they crossed The Till by Twisel Bridge. High sight it is, and haughty, while They dive into the deep defile: By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree, In slow succession still, And, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, And why stands Scotland idly now, Inactive on his steed, And sees, between him and his land, Between him and Tweed's southern strand, His host Lord Surrey lead? What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand?O, Douglas, for thy leading wand! Fierce Randolph, for thy speed! O for one hour of Wallace wight, 3 5 80 Their marshalled lines stretched east and west, From the loud cannon mouth; That breathes the voice of modern battle, At length the freshening western blast Aside the shroud of battle cast; And, first, the ridge of mingled spears Above the brightening cloud appears; And in the smoke the pennons flew, As in the storm the white sea-mew. Then marked they, dashing broad and far, The broken billows of the war, And plumèd crests of chieftains brave Floating like foam upon the wave; But nought distinct they see: 90 Wide raged the battle on the plain; Spears shook, and falchions flashed amain; Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again, Wild and disorderly. 'Twas vain:-But Fortune, on the right, With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight. Then fell that spotless banner white, The Howard's lion fell; Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew The border slogan rent the sky! As bends the bark's mast in the gale, [No longer Blount the view could bear: Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare And to the fray he rode amain, The fiery youth, with desperate charge, But darkly closed the war around; It sunk among the foes. [Then Eustace mounted too:-yet staid, When, fast as shaft can fly, Lord Marmion's steed rushed by ;] With that, straight up the hill there rode A wounded knight they bore. Said-By Saint George, he's gone! When doffed his casque, he felt free air, 'Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where? Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare! Redeem my pennon,-charge again! Cry-" Marmion to the rescue!"-Vain! 120 130 140 150 160 170 180 That shout shall ne'er be heard again!— [Tunstall lies dead upon the field, Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,- Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring To slake my dying thirst!' O, woman! in our hours of ease, By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, 200 A ministering angel thou!— Scarce were the piteous accents said, She filled the helm, and back she hied, 220 To shrieve the dying, bless the dead.] By many a death-bed I have been, The war, that for a space did fail, A light on Marmion's visage spread, Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!' [By this, though deep the evening fell, Where Huntly, and where Home?-] That to king Charles did conie, When Rowland brave, and Oliver, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died! Such blast might warn them, not in vain, While yet on Flodden side, [In vain the wish-for far away. While spoil and havoc mark their way, Near Sybil's cross the plunderers stray. 'O, Lady,' cried the monk, 'away!' And placed her on her steed, And led her to the chapel fair, Of Tillmouth upon Tweed. There all the night they spent in prayer, And at the dawn of morning, there She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare. But as they left the darkening heath, That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, The stubborn spearmen still made good Each stepping where his comrade stood, * The speech may end here 230 243 No thought was there of dastard flight; 290 Till utter darkness closed her wing O'er their thin host and wounded king. Then did their loss his foemen know; 300 When streams are swoln and south winds blow, Dissolves in silent dew. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, To town and tower, to down and dale, Still from the sire the son shall hear Day dawns upon the mountain's side:- May yet return again. He saw the wreck his rashness wrought; Reckless of life, he desperate fought, And fell on Flodden plain: And well in death his trusty brand, 320 330 10 BATTLE OF WATERLOO THE VISION OF DON RODERICK WHILE all around was danger, strife, and fear, While the earth shook, and darkened was the sky, And wide Destruction stunned the listening ear, Appalled the heart, and stupefied the eye,— Afar was heard that thrice-repeated cry, In which old Albion's heart and tongue unite, Whene'er her soul is up, and pulse beats high, Whether it hail the wine-cup or the fight, And bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be light. Don Roderick turned him as the shout grew loud A varied scene the changeful vision showed, For, where the ocean mingled with the cloud, A gallant navy stemmed the billows broad. From mast and stern St George's symbol flowed, Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear; Mottling the sea, their landward barges rowed, And flashed the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear, And the wild beach returned the seaman's jovial cheer. 1Ο BONNIE DUNDEE To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke, 'Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me, Come follow the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee ! 'There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth, If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the North; There are wild duniewassals three thousand times three, Will cry hoigh! for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee. 'There's brass on the target of barkened bullhide; There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside; The brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free, At a toss of the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee. 'Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks— Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox; And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your |