Marvell'd Sir David of the Mount; 455
Then, learn'd in story, 'gan recount
Such chance had happ'd of old,
When once, near Norham, there did fight
A spectre fell of fiendish might,
In likeness of a Scottish knight, 460
With Brian Bulmer bold,
And train'd him nigh to disallow
The aid of his baptismal vow.
'And such a phantom, too, 'tis said,
With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid 465
And fingers red with gore,
Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade,
Or where the sable pine-tree shade
Dark Tomantoul, and Auchnaslaid,
Dromouchty, or Glenmore. 470
And yet, whate'er such legends say,
Of warlike demon, ghost, or lay,
On mountain, moor, or plain,
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold,
True son of chivalry should hold 475
These midnight terrors vain;
For seldom have such spirits power
To harm, save in the evil hour,
When guilt we meditate within,
Or harbour unrepented sin.'-- 480
Lord Marmion turn'd him half aside,
And twice to clear his voice he tried,
Then press'd Sir David's hand,--
But nought, at length, in answer said;
And here their farther converse staid, 485
Each ordering that his band
Should bowne them with the rising day,
To Scotland's camp to take their way,-
Such was the King's command.