To wait her back to Whitby fair.Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, And thank’d the Scottish Prioress; And tedious were to tell, I ween, The courteous speech that pass’d between. O’erjoy’d the nuns their palfreys leave; But when fair Clara did intend, Like them, from horseback to descend, Fitz-Eustace said,-’I grieve, Fair lady, grieve e’en from my heart, Such gentle company to part;- Think not discourtesy,But lords’ commands must be obey’d; And Marmion and the Douglas said, That you must wend with me.Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, Which to the Scottish Earl he show’d, Commanding, that, beneath his care, Without delay, you shall repair To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.’
XXX.
The startled Abbess loud exclaim’d; But she, at whom the blow was aim’d, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,- She deem’d she heard her death-doom read.‘Cheer thee, my child!’ the Abbess said, ‘They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band.’- ‘Nay, holy mother, nay,’ Fitz-Eustace said, ‘the lovely Clare Will be in Lady Angus’ care, In Scotland while we stay;And, when we move, an easy ride Will bring us to the English side, Female attendance to provide Befitting Gloster’s heir; Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, By slightest look, or act, or word, To harass Lady Clare.Her faithful guardian he will be, Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e’en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, Within her kinsman’s halls.’He spoke, and blush’d with earnest grace; His faith was painted on his face, And Clare’s worst fear relieved. The Lady Abbess loud exclaim’d On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, Entreated, threaten’d, grieved; To martyr, saint, and prophet pray’d, Against Lord Marmion inveigh’d, And call’d the Prioress to aid, To curse with candle, bell, and book. Her head the grave Cistertian shook: ‘The Douglas, and the King,’ she said, ‘In their commands will be obey’d; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall.’
