Fitz-Eustace follow'd him abroad, 570
And mark'd him pace the village road,
And listen'd to his horse's tramp,
Till, by the lessening sound,
He judged that of the Pictish camp
Lord Marmion sought the round. 575
Wonder it seem'd, in the squire's eyes,
That one, so wary held, and wise,---
Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received
For gospel, what the Church believed,--
Should, stirr'd by idle tale, 580
Ride forth in silence of the night,
As hoping half to meet a sprite,
Array'd in plate and mail.
For little did Fitz-Eustace know,
That passions, in contending flow, 585
Unfix the strongest mind;
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee,
We welcome fond credulity,
Guide confident, though blind.