Marmion. Walter Scott

       If she had been in presence there, 485

       In his wan face, and sun-burn’d hair,

       She had not known her child.

       Danger, long travel, want, or woe,

       Soon change the form that best we know-

       For deadly fear can time outgo, 490

       And blanch at once the hair;

       Hard toil can roughen form and face,

       And want can quench the eye’s bright grace,

       Nor does old age a wrinkle trace

       More deeply than despair. 495

       Happy whom none of these befall,

       But this poor Palmer knew them all.

       XXIX.

       Lord Marmion then his boon did ask;

       The Palmer took on him the task,

       So he would march with morning tide, 500

       To Scottish court to be his guide.

       ‘But I have solemn vows to pay,

       And may not linger by the way,

       To fair St. Andrews bound,

       Within the ocean-cave to pray, 505

       Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,

       From midnight to the dawn of day,

       Sung to the billows’ sound;

       Thence to Saint Fillan’s blessed well,

       Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 510

       And the crazed brain restore:

       Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring

       Could back to peace my bosom bring,

       Or bid it throb no more!’

       XXX.

       And now the midnight draught of sleep, 515

       Where wine and spices richly steep,

       In massive bowl of silver deep,

       The page presents on knee.

       Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest,

       The Captain pledged his noble guest, 520

       The cup went through among the rest,

       Who drain’d it merrily;

       Alone the Palmer pass’d it by,

       Though Selby press’d him courteously.

       This was a sign the feast was o’er; 525

       It hush’d the merry wassel roar,

       The minstrels ceased to sound.

       Soon in the castle nought was heard,

       But the slow footstep of the guard,

       Pacing his sober round. 530

       XXXI.

       With early dawn Lord Marmion rose:

       And first the chapel doors unclose;

       Then, after morning rites were done,

       (A hasty mass from Friar John,)

       And knight and squire had broke their fast, 535

       On rich substantial repast,

       Lord Marmion’s bugles blew to horse:

       Then came the stirrup-cup in course:

       Between the Baron and his host,

       No point of courtesy was lost; 540

       High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid,

       Solemn excuse the Captain made,

       Till, filing from the gate, had pass’d

       That noble train, their Lord the last.

       Then loudly rung the trumpet call; 545

       Thunder’d the cannon from the wall,

       And shook the Scottish shore;

       Around the castle eddied slow,

       Volumes of smoke as white as snow,

       And hid its turrets hoar; 550

       Till they roli’d forth upon the air,

       And met the river breezes there,

       Which gave again the prospect fair.