Some opener ground to gain; And scarce a furlong had they rode, When thinner trees, receding, shewed A little woodland plain. Just in that advantageous glade, The halting troop a line had made, As forth from the opposing shade Issued a gallant train. VI. First came the trumpets, at whose clang So late the forest echoes rang; On prancing steeds they forward pressed, With scarlet mantle, azure vest; Each at his trump a banner wore, Which Scotland's royal scutcheon bore: Heralds and pursuivants, by name Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came, In painted tabards, proudly showing Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, Attendant on a King-at-arms, Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, That feudal strife had often quelled, When wildest its alarms. VII. He was a man of middle age; In aspect manly, grave, and sage, Expression found its home; The flash of that satiric rage, Branded the vices of the age, And broke the keys of Rome. On milk-white palfrey forth he paced; His cap of maintenance was graced With the proud heron-plume. From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, Silk housings swept the ground, With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, Embroidered round and round. The double tressure might you see, First by Achaius borne, The thistle, and the fleur-de-lis, And gallant unicorn. So bright the king's armorial coat, That scarce the dazzled eye could note, In living colours blazoned brave, The Lion, which his title gave. A train, which well beseemed his state, But all unarmed, around him wait. Still is thy name in high account, And still thy verse has charms, Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, Lord Lion King-at-arms! VIII. Down from his horse did Marmion spring, Soon as he saw the Lion-King; For well the stately Baron knew, To him such courtesy was due, Whom royal James himself had crowned, And on his temples placed the round Of Scotland's ancient diadem; And wet his brow with hallowed wine, And on his finger given to shine The emblematic gem. Their mutual greetings duly made, The Lion thus his message said : "Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore, Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more, And strictly hath forbid resort From England to his royal court; Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name, And honours much his warlike fame, |