Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide When in the lists two champions ride, Say, was Heaven’s justice here? When, loyal in his love and faith, Wilton found overthrow or death, Beneath a traitor’s spear?How false the charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell.’- Then drew a packet from her breast, Paused, gather’d voice, and spoke the rest.
XXIX.
‘Still was false Marmion’s bridal staid; To Whitby’s convent fled the maid, The hated match to shun. “Ho! shifts she thus?” King Henry cried, “Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, If she were sworn a nun.”One way remain’d-the King’s command Sent Marmion to the Scottish land! I linger’d here, and rescue plann’d For Clara and for me: This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, He would to Whitby’s shrine repair, And, by his drugs, my rival fair A saint in heaven should be.But ill the dastard kept his oath, Whose cowardice has undone us both.
XXX.
‘And now my tongue the secret tells, Not that remorse my bosom swells, But to assure my soul that none Shall ever wed with Marmion. Had fortune my last hope betray’d, This packet, to the King convey’d, Had given him to the headsman’s stroke, Although my heart that instant broke.-Now, men of death, work forth your will, For I can suffer, and be still; And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but Death who comes at last.
XXXI.
‘Yet dread me, from my living tomb, Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome! If Marmion’s late remorse should wake, Full soon such vengeance will he take, That you shall wish the fiery Dane Had rather been your guest again.Behind, a darker hour ascends! The altars quake, the crosier bends, The ire of a despotic King Rides forth upon destruction’s wing; Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, Burst open to the sea-winds’ sweep; Some traveller then shall find my bones Whitening amid disjointed stones, And, ignorant of priests’ cruelty, Marvel such relics here should be.’
