like rain; crests rose, and stooped, and rose again.

"Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew
Around the battle-yell.
The Border slogan rent the sky!
A Home! a Gordon! was the cry:
Loud were the clanging blows;
Advanced--forced back--now low, now high,
The pennon sunk and rose;
As bends the barque's mast in the gale,
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail,
It waver'd 'mid the foes.
No longer Blount the view could bear:
'By heaven and all its saints! I swear,
I will not see it lost;
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare
May bid your beads, and patter prayer,--
I gallop to the host.'"

To the fray he rode, followed by the archers. At the next moment, fleet
as the wind, Marmion's steed riderless flew by, the housings and saddle
dyed crimson. Eustace mounted and plunged into the fight, resolved to
rescue the body of his fallen lord.

Alone, in that dreadful hour, a courage not her own armed the gentle
girl with strength to play a noble part. She was thinking only of De
Wilton, when two horsemen drenched with human gore, rode up, bearing a
wounded knight, his shield bent, his helmet gone. He yet bore in his
hand a broken brand. Could this be Marmion? Blount unlaced the armor;