Nor marked they less, where in the air A thousand streamers flaunted fair; Various in shape, device, and hue, Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square, Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, there O’er the pavilions flew. Highest and midmost, was descried The royal banner floating wide; The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight, Pitched deeply in a massive stone— Which still in memory is shown— Yet bent beneath the standard’s weight Whene’er the western wind unrolled, With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, And gave to view the dazzling field, Where, in proud Scotland’s royal shield, The ruddy lion ramped in gold. XXIX. Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright— He viewed it with a chief’s delight— Until within him burned his heart And lightning from his eye did part, As on the battle-day; Such glance did falcon never dart, When stooping on his prey. “Oh! well, Lord Lion, hast thou said, Thy king from warfare to dissuade Were but a vain essay: For, by Saint George, were that host mine, Not power infernal, nor divine. Should once to peace my soul incline, Till I had dimmed their armour’s shine In glorious battle-fray!” Answered the bard, of milder mood— “Fair is the sight—and yet ’twere good That kings would think withal, When peace and wealth their land has blessed, ’Tis better to sit still at rest, Than rise, perchance to fall.” XXX.