Marmion (ed. Henry Morley) | Page 9

man of mirthful speech,?Can many a game and gambol teach;?Full well at tables can he play,?And sweep at bowls the stake away.?None can a lustier carol bawl;?The needfullest among us all,?When time hangs heavy in the hall,?And snow comes thick at Christmas-tide,?And we can neither hunt, nor ride?A foray on the Scottish side.?The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude,?May end in worse than loss of hood.?Let Friar John, in safety, still?In chimney-corner snore his fill,?Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill:?Last night to Norham there came one,?Will better guide Lord Marmion."?"Nephew," quoth Heron, "by my fay,?Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say."
XXIII.
"Here is a holy Palmer come?From Salem first, and last from Rome:?One that hath kissed the blessed tomb,?And visited each holy shrine?In Araby and Palestine;?On hills of Armenie hath been,?Where Noah's ark may yet be seen;?By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod,?Which parted at the prophet's rod;?In Sinai's wilderness he saw?The Mount where Israel heard the law,?Mid thunder-dint and flashing levin,?And shadows, mists, and darkness, given.?He shows Saint James's cockle-shell;?Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell;
And of that grot where olives nod,?Where, darling of each heart and eye,?From all the youth of Sicily,
Saint Rosalie retired to God.
XXIV.
"To stout Saint George of Norwich merry,?Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury,?Cuthbert of Durham, and Saint Bede,?For his sins' pardon hath he prayed.?He knows the passes of the North,?And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth;?Little he eats, and long will wake,?And drinks but of the stream or lake.?This were a guide o'er moor and dale?But when our John hath quaffed his ale,?As little as the wind that blows,?And warms itself against his nose,?Kens he, or cares, which way he goes."
XXV.
"Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion,?"Full loth were I that Friar John,?That venerable man, for me?Were placed in fear or jeopardy.?If this same Palmer will me lead
From hence to Holyrood,?Like his good saint I'll pay his meed,?Instead of cockle-shell or bead
With angels fair and good.?I love such holy ramblers; still?They know to charm a weary hill,
With song, romance, or lay:?Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest,?Some lying legend, at the least,
They bring to cheer the way."
XXVI.
"Ah! noble sir," young Selby said,?And finger on his lip he laid,?"This man knows much--perchance e'en more?Than he could learn by holy lore.?Still to himself he's muttering,?And shrinks as at some unseen thing.?Last night we listened at his cell;?Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell,?He murmured on till morn, howe'er?No living mortal could be near.?Sometimes I thought I heard it plain,?As other voices spoke again.?I cannot tell--I like it not -?Friar John hath told us it is wrote,?No conscience clear, and void of wrong,?Can rest awake, and pray so long.?Himself still sleeps before his beads?Have marked ten aves, and two creeds."
XXVII.
"Let pass," quoth Marmion; "by my fay,?This man shall guide me on my way,?Although the great arch-fiend and he?Had sworn themselves of company.?So please you, gentle youth, to call?This Palmer to the castle-hall."?The summoned Palmer came in place;?His sable cowl o'erhung his face;?In his black mantle was he clad,?With Peter's keys, in cloth of red,
On his broad shoulders wrought;?The scallop-shell his cap did deck;?The crucifix around his neck
Was from Loretto brought;?His sandals were with travel tore,?Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore;?The faded palm-branch in his hand?Showed pilgrim from the Holy Land.
XXVIII.
Whenas the Palmer came in hall,?Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall,
Or had a statelier step withal,?Or looked more high and keen;?For no saluting did he wait,?But strode across the hall of state,?And fronted Marmion where he sate,
As he his peer had been.?But his gaunt frame was worn with toil;?His cheek was sunk, alas, the while!?And when he struggled at a smile
His eye looked haggard wild:?Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,?If she had been in presence there,?In his wan face and sun-burned hair,
She had not known her child.?Danger, long travel, want, or woe,?Soon change the form that best we know -?For deadly fear can time outgo,
And blanch at once the hair;?Hard toil can roughen form and face,?And want can quench the eye's bright grace,?Nor does old age a wrinkle trace
More deeply than despair.?Happy whom none of these befall,?But this poor Palmer knew them all.
XXIX.
Lord Marmion then his boon did ask;?The Palmer took on him the task,?So he would march with morning tide,?To Scottish court to be his guide.?"But I have solemn vows to pay,?And may not linger by the way,
To fair St. Andrews bound,?Within the ocean-cave to pray,?Where good Saint Rule his holy lay,?From midnight to the dawn of day,
Sung to the billows' sound;?Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,?Whose springs can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore:?Saint Mary grant that cave or spring?Could back to peace my bosom bring,
Or bid it throb no more!"
XXX.
And now the midnight draught of sleep,?Where wine and spices richly steep,?In massive bowl of silver deep,
The page presents on knee.?Lord Marmion drank a fair good