Вальтер Скотт - Marmion

‘“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 demon mocks my skill. 405
But thou, – who little know’st thy might,
As born upon that blessed night
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaim’d hell’s empire overthrown, -
With untaught valour shalt compel 410
Response denied to magic spell.”-
“Gramercy,” quoth our Monarch free,
“Place him but front to front with me,
And, by this good and honour’d brand,
The gift of Coeur-de-Lion’s hand, 415
Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide,
The demon shall a buffet bide.”-
His bearing bold the wizard view’d,
And thus, well pleased, his speech renew’d: -
“There spoke the blood of Malcolm! – mark: 420
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark,
The rampart seek, whose circling crown
Crests the ascent of yonder down:
A southern entrance shalt thou find;
There halt, and there thy bugle wind, 425
And trust thine elfin foe to see,
In guise of thy worst enemy:
Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed-
Upon him! and Saint George to speed!
If he go down, thou soon shalt know 430
Whate’er these airy sprites can show: -