THE barrier guard the Lion knew,

Advanced their pikes; and soon withdrew

The slender palisades and few

That closed the tented ground;

And Marmion with his train rode through,

Into its ample bound.

Fast ran the Scottish warriors there,

Upon the Southern band to stare;

And envy with their wonder rose,

To see such well-appointed foes;

Such length of shafts, such mighty bows,

So huge, that many simply thought,

But for a vaunt such weapons wrought;

And little deemed their force to feel

Through links of mail, and plates of steel,

When, rattling upon Flodden vale,

The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail.

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view

Glance every line and squadron through;

And much he marvelled one small land

Could marshal forth such various band:

For men-at-arms were here,

Heavily sheathed in mail and plate,

Like iron towers for strength and weight,

On Flemish steeds of bone and height,

With battle-axe and spear.

Young knights and squires, a lighter train,

Practised their chargers on the plain,

By aid of leg, of hand, and rein,

Each warlike feat to show;

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain,

And high curvett, that not in vain

The sword-sway might descend amain

On foeman's casque below.

He saw the hardy burghers there

March armed, on foot, with faces bare,

For visor they wore none,

Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight;

But burnished were their corslets bright,

Their brigantines, and gorgets light,

Like very silver shone.

Long pikes they had for standing fight,

Two-handed swords they wore,

And many wielded mace of weight,

And bucklers bright they bore.

On foot the yeoman too, but dressed

In his steel jack, a swarthy vest,

With iron quilted well;

Each at his back, (a slender store,)

His forty days provision bore,

As feudal statutes tell.

His arms were halbard, axe, or spear,

A cross-bow there, a hagbut here,

A dagger-knife, and brand.—

Sober he seemed, and sad of cheer,

As loth to leave his cottage dear,

And march to foreign strand,

Or musing, who would guide his steer,

To till the fallow land.

Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye

Did aught of dastard terror lie;

More dreadful far his ire,

Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name,

In eager mood to battle came,

Their valour like light straw on flame,

A fierce but fading fire.