Marmion

Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion’s name, 
And honours much his warlike fame, 
My liege hath deem’d it shame, and lack 
Of courtesy, to turn him back;

And, by his order, I, your guide,             
Must lodging fit and fair provide, 
Till finds King James meet time to see 
The flower of English chivalry.’

IX.

Though inly chafed at this delay, 
Lord Marmion bears it as he may.

The Palmer, his mysterious guide, 
Beholding thus his place supplied, 
  Sought to take leave in vain: 
Strict was the Lion-King’s command, 
That none, who rode in Marmion’s band, 
  Should sever from the train:

‘England has here enow of spies 
In Lady Heron’s witching eyes;’

To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, 
But fair pretext to Marmion made.   

The right hand path they now decline, 
And trace against the stream the Tyne.

X.

At length up that wild dale they wind, 
  Where Crichtoun Castle crowns the bank; 
For there the Lion’s care assign’d               
  A lodging meet for Marmion’s rank.

That Castle rises on the steep 
  Of the green vale of Tyne: 
And far beneath, where slow they creep, 
From pool to eddy, dark and deep,          
Where alders moist, and willows weep, 
  You hear her streams repine.

The towers in different ages rose; 
Their various architecture shows 
  The builders’ various hands;      
A mighty mass, that could oppose, 
When deadliest hatred fired its foes, 
  The vengeful Douglas bands.

XI.

Crichtoun! though now thy miry court 
  But pens the lazy steer and sheep,    
  Thy turrets rude, and totter’d Keep, 
Have been the minstrel’s loved resort.

Oft have I traced, within thy fort, 
  Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, 
  Scutcheons of honour, or pretence,       
Quarter’d in old armorial sort, 
  Remains of rude magnificence.

Nor wholly yet had time defaced 
  Thy lordly gallery fair; 
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced,            
Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, 
  Adorn thy ruin’d stair.