Then at the altar Wilton kneels, And Clare the spurs bound on his heels; And think what next he must have felt At buckling of the falchion belt! And judge how Clara changed her hue, While fastening to her lover’s side A friend, which, though in danger tried, He once had found untrue! Then Douglas struck him with his blade: “Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, I dub thee knight. Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton’s heir! For king, for church, for lady fair, See that thou fight.” And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, Said—“Wilton! grieve not for thy woes, Disgrace, and trouble; For he, who honour best bestows, May give thee double.” De Wilton sobbed, for sob he must— “Where’er I meet a Douglas, trust That Douglas is my brother!” “Nay, nay,” old Douglas said, “not so; To Surrey’s camp thou now must go, Thy wrongs no longer smother. I have two sons in yonder field; And, if thou meet’st them under shield Upon them bravely—do thy worst; And foul fall him that blenches first!” XIII. Not far advanced was morning day, When Marmion did his troop array, To Surrey’s camp to ride; He had safe-conduct for his band, Beneath the royal seal and hand, And Douglas gave a guide: The ancient earl, with stately grace, Would Clara on her palfrey place, And whispered in an under-tone, “Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.” The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:— “Though something I might plain,” he said, “Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king’s behest, While in Tantallon’s towers I stayed; Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand.” But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke: “My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open, at my sovereign’s will, To each one whom he lists, howe’er Unmeet to be the owner’s peer. My castles are my king’s alone, From turret to foundation-stone— The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp.” XIV.