And want can quench the eye's bright grace, Nor does old age a wrinkle trace More deeply than despair. Happy whom none of these befall, But this poor Palmer knew them all. XXIX Lord Marmion then his boon did ask; So he would march with morning tide, 1 Sung to the billows' sound; 1 Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, Saint Mary grant that cave or spring And now the midnight draught of sleep, The page presents on knee. Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, Alone the Palmer passed it by, Though Selby pressed him courteously. XXXI With early dawn Lord Marmion rose: A hasty mass from Friar John And knight and squire had broke their fast On rich substantial repast, Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse. Then came the stirrup-cup in course: No point of courtesy was lost; High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, Till, filing from the gate, had passed Then loudly rung the trumpet call; And shook the Scottish shore; And hid its turrets hoar, Till they rolled forth upon the air, Which gave again the prospect fair. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND TO THE REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A.M. THE scenes are desert now and bare, Where flourished once a forest fair,1 Yon thorn-perchance whose prickly spears With narrow leaves and berries red; O'er every dell what birches hung, 1 See Note 22. 'Here, in my shade,' methinks he'd say, 'The mighty stag at noontide lay; The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, The neighbouring dingle bears his name, - His tusks upon my stem would whet; A thousand vassals mustered round, Guard every pass with crossbow bent; And through the brake the rangers stalk, And falconers hold the ready hawk; Answers the harquebuss below; |