Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near--
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!
And if thou said'st, I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!'
On the Earl's cheek, a flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:
Fierce he broke forth,--And dare'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?
And hop'st thou thence unscathed to go?--Up
drawbridge, grooms--what, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.'
Lord Marmion turned--well was his need,
And dash'd the rowels in his steed."

A swallow does not more lightly skim the air, than Marmion's steed flew
along the drawbridge. The man drew rein when he had reached the train,
turned, clenched his fists, shouted defiance, and shook his gauntlet at
the towers where so lately he had been a guest.

"To horse! to horse!" cried Douglas. "Let the chase be up." Then
relenting, he smiled bitterly, saying, "He came a royal messenger. Bold
can he talk and fairly ride, and I doubt not he will fight well."

Slowly the Earl sought the castle walls, that frowned still more
gloomily, no longer brightened by the young and beautiful Lady Clare.

As the day wore on, Marmion's passion wore off, and scanning his little