Marmion

Assumed her wonted state again, 
  For much of state she had,- 
Composed her veil, and raised her head, 
And-‘Bid,’ in solemn voice she said, 
  ‘Thy master, bold and bad,           

The records of his house turn o’er, 
  And, when he shall there written see, 
  That one of his own ancestry 
  Drove the monks forth of Coventry, 
Bid him his fate explore!                   
  Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 
  His charger hurl’d him to the dust, 
  And, by a base plebeian thrust, 
He died his band before.

  God judge ‘twixt Marmion and me; 
  He is a Chief of high degree, 
And I a poor recluse; 
  Yet oft, in holy writ, we see 
  Even such weak minister as me 
May the oppressor bruise:          

  For thus, inspired, did Judith slay 
    The mighty in his sin, 
  And Jael thus, and Deborah’- 
    Here hasty Blount broke in:

‘Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band; 
Saint Anton’ fire thee! wilt thou stand 
All day, with bonnet in thy hand, 
  To hear the Lady preach? 
By this good light! if thus we stay, 
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,  
  Will sharper sermon teach.

Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse; 
The Dame must patience take perforce.’-

XXXII.

‘Submit we then to force,’ said Clare, 
‘But let this barbarous lord despair      
  His purposed aim to win; 
Let him take living, land, and life; 
But to be Marmion’s wedded wife 
  In me were deadly sin:

And if it be the King’s decree, 
That I must find no sanctuary, 
In that inviolable dome, 
Where even a homicide might come, 
  And safely rest his head, 
Though at its open portals stood,  
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, 
  The kinsmen of the dead;

Yet one asylum is my own 
  Against the dreaded hour; 
A low, a silent, and a lone,  
  Where kings have little power.

One victim is before me there.- 
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer 
Remember your unhappy Clare!’ 
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows  
  Kind blessings many a one: 
Weeping and wailing loud arose, 
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes 
  Of every simple nun.

His eyes the gentle Eustace dried,           
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide. 
  Then took the squire her rein, 
And gently led away her steed, 
And, by each courteous word and deed, 
  To cheer her strove in vain.                

XXXIII.