Ere yet the bands met Marmion’s eye,
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high,
“Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum!
And see ascending squadrons come
Between Tweed’s river and the hill,
Foot, horse, and cannon: hap what hap,
My basnet to a ’prentice cap,
Lord Surrey’s o’er the Till!
Yet more! yet more!—how far arrayed
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And sweep so gallant by!
With all their banners bravely spread,
And all their armour flashing high,
Saint George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England’s standards fly.”
“Stint in thy prate,” quoth Blount, “thou’dst best,
And listen to our lord’s behest.”
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said—
“This instant be our band arrayed;
The river must be quickly crossed,
That we may join Lord Surrey’s host.
If fight King James—as well I trust
That fight he will, and fight he must,
The Lady Clare behind our lines
Shall tarry, while the battle joins.”