Marmion . hospitable shade, A reverend pilgrim worth the whole Bcrnardine brood,That eer wore sandal, frock, or hood. —Yet did Saint Bernards Abbot thereGive Marmion entertainment lodging for his train and morn the Baron climbed the view afar the Scottish power. Encamped on Flodden edge:The white pavilions made a show,Like remnants of the winter snow. Along the dusky Marmion looked: — at length his eyeUnusual movement might descry Amid the shifting lines:The Scottish host drawn out , flashing on the hedge of spears. The eastern sun
Marmion . hospitable shade, A reverend pilgrim worth the whole Bcrnardine brood,That eer wore sandal, frock, or hood. —Yet did Saint Bernards Abbot thereGive Marmion entertainment lodging for his train and morn the Baron climbed the view afar the Scottish power. Encamped on Flodden edge:The white pavilions made a show,Like remnants of the winter snow. Along the dusky Marmion looked: — at length his eyeUnusual movement might descry Amid the shifting lines:The Scottish host drawn out , flashing on the hedge of spears. The eastern sunbeam front now deepening, now extending;Their flank inclining, wheeling, drawing back, and now skilful Marmion well could know,They watched the motions of some traversed on the plain below. THE BATTLE. 265 XIX. Even so it was. From Flodden ridgeThe Scots beheld the English hostLeave Barmore-wood, their evening post,And heedful watched them as thev crossed. The Till by Twisel Bridge. High sight it is, and haughty, whileThey dive into the deep defile;Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,Beneath the castles airy wall. By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree,Troop after troop are disappearing;Troop after troop their banners rearing, 266 MARMION. canto vi. Upon the eastern bank you pourino; down the rocky den, Where flows the sullen Till,And rising from the dim-wood glen,Standards on standards, men o\\ men, In slow succession still,And, sweeping oer the Gothic arch,And pressing on, in ceaseless march. To gain the opposing morn, to many a trumpet clang,Twisel! thy rocks deep echo rang;And many a chief of V)irth and Helen! at thy fountain hawthorn glade, which now we seeIn spring-tide bloom so lavishly,Had then from many an axe its give the marching columns room. XX. And why stands Scotland idly now,Dark Flodden ! on thy airy England gains the pass the while,And struggles through
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