She stooped by the side of the rill, but drew back in horror,--it ran
red with the best blood of two kingdoms. Near by, a fountain played, the
well of Sybil Grey. At this, the helmet was quickly filled, and
accompanied by a monk, who was present to shrive the dying or to bless
the dead, the Lady Clare hurried to the side of Marmion. Deep he drank,
saying:

"Is it the hand of Constance or of Clare that bathes my brow? Speak not
to me of shrift and prayer; while the spark of life lasts, I must
redress the wrongs of Constance."

Between broken sobs the Lady Clare replied:

"'In vain for Constance is your zeal;
She--died at Holy Isle.'"

Lord Marmion started from the ground, but fainting fell, supported by
the monk.

The din of war ceased for a moment, then there swelled upon the gale the
cry, "Stanley! Stanley!"

"A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye:
With dying hand, above his head,
He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted 'Victory!
Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!'
Were the last words of Marmion."