Marmion

As little as the wind that blows, 
And warms itself against his nose, 
Kens he, or cares, which way he goes.’-

XXV.

‘Gramercy!’ quoth Lord Marmion, 
‘Full loth were I, that Friar John, 
That venerable man, for me, 
Were placed in fear or jeopardy.

If this same Palmer will me lead 
  From hence to Holy-Rood, 
Like his good saint, I’ll pay his meed, 
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, 
  With angels fair and good.

I love such holy ramblers; still 
They know to charm a weary hill,

  With song, romance, or lay: 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, 
Some lying legend, at the least, 
  They bring to cheer the way.’-

XXVI.

‘Ah! noble sir,’ young Selby said, 
And finger on his lip he laid, 
‘This man knows much, perchance e’en more 
Than he could learn by holy lore.

Still to himself he’s muttering, 
And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 
Last night we listen’d at his cell; 
Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, 
He murmur’d on till morn, howe’er 
No living mortal could be near.

Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, 
As other voices spoke again.

I cannot tell-I like it not- 
Friar John hath told us it is wrote, 
No conscience clear, and void of wrong, 
Can rest awake, and pray so long.

Himself still sleeps before his beads 
Have mark’d ten aves, and two creeds.’-

XXVII.

-‘Let pass,’ quoth Marmion; ‘by my fay, 
This man shall guide me on my way, 
Although the great arch-fiend and he 
Had sworn themselves of company.

So please you, gentle youth, to call 
This Palmer to the Castle-hall.’

The summon’d Palmer came in place; 
His sable cowl o’erhung his face; 

In his black mantle was he clad, 
With Peter’s keys, in cloth of red, 
  On his broad shoulders wrought; 
The scallop shell his cap did deck; 
The crucifix around his neck 
  Was from Loretto brought;