Marmion

Scott, Walter, Sir

• Publisher: pubOne.info
• Year: 2010
• eBook ISBN: 9782819917793
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Scott's first romantic tale, was published in January, 1805, and won for its author his first great success. The writing of Marmion was begun in November, 1806. Constable offered as publisher to pay at once a thousand guineas for the copyright, when he heard that the new poem was begun, though he had not yet seen a line of it. Miller and Murray joined, each taking a fourth part of the venture, and John Murray said, We both view it as honourable, profitable, and glorious to be concerned in the publication of a new poem by Walter Scott. Scott, thirty-five years old, had the impulse upon his mind of a preceding great success, took more than usual pains, and thoroughly enjoyed the writing. On pleasant knolls, under trees, and by the banks of Yarrow, many lines were written; and trotting quietly over the hills in later life he said to Lockhart, his son-in-law, Oh, man, I had many a grand gallop among these bracs when I was thinking of 'Marmion.' The description of the battle of Flodden was shaped in the autumn of 1807, when Scott was out practising with the Light Horse Volunteers, which had been formed in prospect of an invasion from France, and of which Scott was quartermaster and secretary

CANTO SIXTH - THE BATTLE.

I.

While great events were on the gale,

And each hour brought a varying tale,

And the demeanour, changed and cold,

Of Douglas fretted Marmion bold,

And, like the impatient steed of war

He snuffed the battle from afar;

And hopes were none, that back again

Herald should come from Terouenne,

Where England's king in leaguer lay,

Before decisive battle-day;

Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare

Did in the dame's devotions share:

For the good countess ceaseless prayed

To Heaven and saints, her sons to aid,

And with short interval did pass

From prayer to book, from book to mass,

And all in high baronial pride -

A life both dull and dignified;

Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressed

Upon her intervals of rest,

Dejected Clara well could bear

The formal state, the lengthened prayer,

Though dearest to her wounded heart

The hours that she might spend apart.

II.

I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep

Hung o'er the margin of the deep.

Many a rude tower and rampart there

Repelled the insult of the air,

Which, when the tempest vexed the sky,

Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by.

Above the rest, a turret square

Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear,

Of sculpture rude, a stony shield;

The bloody heart was in the field,

And in the chief three mullets stood,

The cognisance of Douglas blood.

The turret held a narrow stair,

Which, mounted, gave you access where

A parapet's embattled row

Did seaward round the castle go.

Sometimes in dizzy steps descending,

Sometimes in narrow circuit bending,

Sometimes in platform broad extending,

Its varying circle did combine

Bulwark, and bartisan, and line,

And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign:

Above the booming ocean leant

The far projecting battlement;

The billows burst in ceaseless flow

Upon the precipice below.

Where'er Tantallon faced the land,

Gateworks and walls were strongly manned;

No need upon the sea-girt side;

The steepy rock, and frantic tide,

Approach of human step denied;

And thus these lines, and ramparts rude,

Were left in deepest solitude.

III.

And, for they were so lonely, Clare

Would to these battlements repair,

And muse upon her sorrows there,

And list the sea-bird's cry;

Or slow, like noontide ghost, would glide

Along the dark grey bulwark's side,

And ever on the heaving tide

Look down with weary eye.

Oft did the cliff, and swelling main,

Recall the thoughts of Whitby's fane -

A home she ne'er might see again;

For she had laid adown,

So Douglas bade, the hood and veil,

And frontlet of the cloister pale,

And Benedictine gown:

It were unseemly sight, he said,

A novice out of convent shade.

Now her bright locks, with sunny glow,

Again adorned her brow of snow;

Her mantle rich, whose borders round,

A deep and fretted broidery bound,

In golden foldings sought the ground;

Of holy ornament, alone

Remained a cross with ruby stone;

And often did she look

On that which in her hand she bore,

With velvet bound, and broidered o'er,

Her breviary book.

In such a pla...

Table of contents

• INTRODUCTION.
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST.
• CANTO FIRST - THE CASTLE.
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND.
• CANTO SECOND - THE CONVENT
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD.
• CANTO THIRD - THE INN.
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH.
• CANTO FOURTH - THE CAMP.
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH.
• CANTO FIFTH - THE COURT.
• INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.
• CANTO SIXTH - THE BATTLE.
• L'ENVOY - TO THE READER.
• Copyright