The train has left the hills of Braid; The barrier guard have open made ( So Lindesay bade ) the palisade, That closed the tented ground;
Their men the warders backward drew, And carried pikes as they rode through, Into its ample bound. Fast ran the Scottish warriors there,
Upon the Southern band to stare. And envy with their wonder rose, To see such well-appointed foes; Such length of shafts, such mighty bows,
So huge, that many simply thought, But for a vaunt such weapons wrought; And little deem'd their force to feel, Through links of mail, and plates of steel,
When rattling upon Flodden vale, The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. Nor less did Marmion's skilful view Glance every line and squadron through;
And much he marvell'd one small land Could marshal forth such various band; For men-at-arms were here, Heavily sheathed in mail and plate,
Like iron towers for strength and weight, On Flemish steeds of bone and height, With battle-axe and spear. Young knights and squires, a lighter train,
Practised their chargers on the plain, By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, Each warlike feat to show, To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,
And high curvett, that not in vain The sword sway might descend amain On foeman's casque below. He saw the hardy burghers there
March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare, For vizor they wore none, Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight; But burnish'd were their corslets bright,
Their brigantines, and gorgets light, Like very silver shone. Long pikes they had for standing fight, Two-handed swords they wore,
And many wielded mace of weight, And bucklers bright they bore. On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest,
With iron quilted well; Each at his back ( a slender store ) His forty days’ provision bore, As feudal statutes tell.
His arms were halbert, axe, or spear, A crossbow there, a hagbut here, A dagger-knife, and brand. Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer,
As loath to leave his cottage dear, And march to foreign strand; Or musing, who would guide his steer, To till the fallow land.
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye Did aught of dastard terror lie; More dreadful far his ire, Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name,
In eager mood to battle came, Their valour like light straw on name, A fierce but fading fire. Not so the Borderer:— bred to war,
He knew the battle's din afar, And joy'd to hear it swell. His peaceful day was slothful ease; Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please,
Like the loud slogan yell. On active steed, with lance and blade, The light-arm'd pricker plied his trade,— Let nobles fight for fame;
Let vassals follow where they lead, Burghers, to guard their townships, bleed, But war's the Borderer's game. Their gain, their glory, their delight,
To sleep the day, maraud the night, O'er mountain, moss, and moor; Joyful to fight they took their way, Scarce caring who might win the day,
Their booty was secure. These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by, Look'd on at first with careless eye, Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know
The form and force of English bow. But when they saw the Lord array'd In splendid arms, and rich brocade, Each Borderer to his kinsman said,—
‘ Hist, Ringan! seest thou there! Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride?— O! could we but on Border side, By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide,
Beset a prize so fair! That fangless Lion, too, their guide, Might chance to lose his glistering hide; Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied,
Could make a kirtle rare.’ Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race, Of different language, form, and face, A various race of man;
Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd, And wild and garish semblance made, The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid, And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd,
To every varying clan, Wild through their red or sable hair Look'd out their eyes with savage stare, On Marmion as he pass'd;
Their legs above the knee were bare; Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, And harden'd to the blast; Of taller race, the chiefs they own
Were by the eagle's plumage known. The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide Their hairy buskins well supplied; The graceful bonnet deck'd their head:
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid; A broadsword of unwieldy length, A dagger proved for edge and strength, A studded targe they wore,
And quivers, bows, and shafts,— but, O! Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, To that which England bore. The Isles-men carried at their backs
The ancient Danish battle-axe. They raised a wild and wondering cry, As with his guide rode Marmion by. Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, And, with their cries discordant mix'd, Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt. Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd,
And reach'd the City gate at last, Where all around, a wakeful guard, Arm'd burghers kept their watch and ward. Well had they cause of jealous fear,
When lay encamp'd, in field so near, The Borderer and the Mountaineer. As through the bustling streets they go, All was alive with martial show:
At every turn, with dinning clang, The armourer's anvil clash'd and rang; Or toil'd the swarthy smith, to wheel The bar that arms the charger's heel;
Or axe, or falchion, to the side Of jarring grindstone was applied. Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace Through street, and lane, and market-place,
Bore lance, or casque, or sword; While burghers, with important face, Described each new-come lord, Discuss'd his lineage, told his name,
His following, and his warlike fame. The Lion led to lodging meet, Which high o'erlook' d the crowded street; There must the Baron rest,
Till past the hour of vesper tide, And then to Holy-Rood must ride,— Such was the King's behest. Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns
A banquet rich, and costly wines, To Marmion and his train; And when the appointed hour succeeds, The Baron dons his peaceful weeds,
And following Lindesay as he leads, The palace-halls they gain.
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