XXXI. HE Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 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, Drove the Monks forth of Coventry,† Bid him his fate explore! Prancing in pride of earthly trust, God judge 'twixt Marmion and me ; 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; St. Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, By this good light! if thus we stay, Will sharper sermon teach. Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce." XXXII. UBMIT we then to force," said Clare; "But let this barbarous lord despair His purposed aim to win ; Let him take living, land, and life ; In me were deadly sin : And if it be the King's decree, In that inviolable dome, Where even a homicide might come, Q And safely rest his head, Though at its open portals stood, The kinsmen of the dead; Yet one asylum is my own Where kings have little power. 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. UT scant three miles the band had rode, On a projecting rock they rose, By narrow draw-bridge, outworks strong, It was a wide and stately square : XXXIV. ERE did they rest.—The princely care And, first, they heard King James had won With Heron's wily dame.— Such acts to chronicles I yield; Go seek them there, and see: Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, And not a history.— |