horse!’And twice his Sovereign’s mandate came,
Like damp upon a kindling flame;
And twice he thought, ‘Gave I not charge 300
She should be safe, though not at large?
They durst not, for their island, shred
One golden ringlet from her head.’
While thus in Marmion’s bosom strove
Repentance and reviving love, 305
Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway
I’ve seen Loch Vennachar obey,
Their Host the Palmer’s speech had heard,
And, talkative, took up the word:
‘Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 310
From Scotland’s simple land away,
To visit realms afar,
Full often learn the art to know
Of future weal, or future woe,
By word, or sign, or star; 315
Yet might a knight his fortune hear,
If, knight-like, he despises fear,
Not far from hence; – if fathers old
Aright our hamlet legend told.’-
These broken words the menials move,
(For marvels still the vulgar love,) 320
And, Marmion giving license cold,
His tale the host thus gladly told: -
The Host’s Tale
‘A Clerk could tell what years have flown
Since Alexander fill’d our throne, 325
(Third monarch of that warlike name,)
And eke the time when here he came
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord:
A braver never drew a sword;
A wiser never, at the hour 330
Of midnight, spoke the word of power:
The same, whom ancient records call
The founder of the Goblin-Hall.
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay
Gave you that cavern to survey. 335
Of lofty roof, and ample size,
Beneath the castle deep it lies:
To hew the living rock profound,
The floor to pave, the arch to round,
There never toil’d a mortal arm, 340
It all was wrought by word and charm;
And I have heard my grandsire say,
That the wild clamour and affray
Of those dread artisans of hell,
Who labour’d under Hugo’s spell, 345
Sounded as loud as ocean’s war,
Among the caverns of Dunbar.
‘The King Lord Gifford’s castle sought,
Deep labouring with uncertain thought;
Even then he mustered all his host, 350
To meet upon the western coast;
For Norse and Danish galleys plied
Their oars within the Frith of Clyde.
There floated Haco’s banner trim,
Above Norweyan warriors grim, 355
Savage of heart, and large of limb;
Threatening both continent and isle,
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle.
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground,
Heard Alexander’s bugle sound, 360
And tarried not his garb to change,
But, in his wizard habit strange,
Came forth, – a quaint and fearful sight;
His mantle lined with fox-skins white;
His high and wrinkled forehead bore 365
A pointed cap, such as of yore
Clerks say that Pharaoh’s Magi wore:
His shoes were mark’d with cross and spell,
Upon his breast a pentacle;
His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 370
Or, as some tell, of dead man’s skin,
Bore many a planetary sign,
Combust, and retrograde, and trine;
And in his hand he held prepared,
A naked sword without a guard. 375
‘Dire dealings with the fiendish race
Had mark’d strange lines upon his face;
Vigil and fast had worn him grim,
His eyesight dazzled seem’d and dim,
As one unused to upper day; 380
Even his own menials with dismay
Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire,
In his unwonted wild attire;
Unwonted, for traditions run,
He seldom thus beheld the sun. – 385
“I know,” he said, – his voice was hoarse,
And broken seem’d its hollow force, -
“I know the cause, although untold,
Why the King seeks his vassal’s hold:
Vainly from me my liege would know 390
His kingdom’s future weal or woe;
But yet, if strong his arm and heart,
His courage may do more than art.
‘“Of middle air the demons proud,
Who ride upon the racking cloud, 395
Can read, in fix’d or wandering star,
The issue of events afar;
But still their sullen aid withhold,
Save when by mightier force controll’d.
Such late I summon’d to my hall; 400
And though so potent was the call,
That scarce the deepest nook of hell
I deem’d a refuge from the spell,
Yet, obstinate in silence still,
The haughty
