Walter Scott - The Complete Poems of Sir Walter Scott

Oh, Douglas for thy leading wand!

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!

Oh, for one hour of Wallace wight,

Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight,

And cry, “Saint Andrew and our right!”

Another sight had seen that morn,

From Fate’s dark book a leaf been torn,

And Flodden had been Bannockbourne!

The precious hour has passed in vain,

And England’s host has gained the plain;

Wheeling their march, and circling still,

Around the base of Flodden Hill.

XXI

Ere yet the bands met Marmion’s eye,

Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,

“Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!

And see ascending squadrons come

Between Tweed’s river and the hill,

Foot, horse, and cannon: hap what hap,

My basnet to a ‘prentice cap,

Lord Surrey’s o’er the Till!

Yet more! yet more!—how far arrayed

They file from out the hawthorn shade,

And sweep so gallant by!

With all their banners bravely spread,

And all their armour flashing high,

Saint George might waken from the dead,

To see fair England’s standards fly.”

“Stint in thy prate,” quoth Blount, “thou’dst best,

And listen to our lord’s behest.”

With kindling brow Lord Marmion said -

“This instant be our band arrayed;

The river must be quickly crossed,

That we may join Lord Surrey’s host.

If fight King James—as well I trust

That fight he will, and fight he must,

The Lady Clare behind our lines

Shall tarry, while the battle joins.”

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 stayed,

And breathed his steed, his men arrayed,

Then forward moved his band,

Until, Lord Surrey’s rearguard 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 passed

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 stayed:

“Here, by this cross,” he gently said,

“You well may view the scene.

Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare:

Oh! 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,

And would not mark the maid’s despair,

Nor heed the discontented look

From either squire; but spurred amain,

And, dashing through the battle plain,

His way to Surrey took.

XXIV

“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 fronts their right,

My sons command the vaward post,

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight:

Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,

Shall be in rearward 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, Tunstall 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 farther greeting there he paid;

But, parting like a thunderbolt,

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.

XXV

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still

With Lady Clare upon the hill;

On which, for far the day was spent,

The western sunbeams now were bent.

The cry they heard, its meaning knew,

Could plain their distant comrades view:

Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,

“Unworthy office here to stay!

No hope of gilded spurs to-day.

But see! look up—on Flodden bent

The Scottish foe has fired his tent.”

And sudden, as he spoke,

From the sharp ridges of the hill,

All downward to the banks of Till,

Was wreathed in sable smoke.

Volumed and fast, and rolling far,

The cloud enveloped Scotland’s war,

As down the hill they broke;

Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,

Announced their march; their tread alone

At times one warning trumpet blown,

At times a stifled hum,

Told England, from his mountain-throne

King James did rushing come.

Scarce could they hear or see their foes,

Until at weapon-point they close.

They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,

With sword-sway, and with lance’s thrust;

And such a yell was there,

Of sudden and portentous birth,

As if men fought upon the earth,

And fiends in upper air;

Oh, life and death were in the shout,

Recoil and rally, charge and rout,

And triumph and despair.

Long looked the anxious squires; their eye

Could in the darkness nought descry.

XXVI

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 plumed crests of chieftains brave

Floating like foam upon the wave;

But nought distinct they see:

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.

Amid the scene of tumult, high

They saw Lord Marmion’s falcon fly:

And stainless Tunstall’s banner white,

And Edmund Howard’s lion bright,

Still bear them bravely in the fight;

Although against them come,

Of gallant Gordons many a one,

And many a stubborn Badenoch-man,

And many a rugged Border clan,

With Huntley and with Home.