Well was he armed from head to heel, In mail and plate of Milan steel; But his strong helm, of mighty cost, Was all with burnished gold embossed; Amid the plumage of the crest, A falcon hovered on her nest, With wings outspread, and forward breast: E’en such a falcon, on his shield, Soared sable in an azure field: The golden legend bore aright, “Who checks at me, to death is dight.” Blue was the charger’s broidered rein; Blue ribbons decked his arching mane; The knightly housing’s ample fold Was velvet blue, and trapped with gold. VII. Behind him rode two gallant squires, Of noble name and knightly sires: They burned the gilded spurs to claim; For well could each a war-horse tame, Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, And lightly bear the ring away; Nor less with courteous precepts stored, Could dance in hall, and carve at board, And frame love-ditties passing rare, And sing them to a lady fair. VIII. Four men-at-arms came at their backs, With halbert, bill, and battle-axe: They bore Lord Marmion’s lance so strong, And led his sumpter-mules along, And ambling palfrey, when at need Him listed ease his battle-steed. The last and trustiest of the four, On high his forky pennon bore; Like swallow’s tail, in shape and hue, Fluttered the streamer glossy blue, Where, blazoned sable, as before, The towering falcon seemed to soar. Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, In hosen black, and jerkins blue, With falcons broidered on each breast, Attended on their lord’s behest: Each, chosen for an archer good, Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; Each one a six-foot bow could bend, And far a clothyard shaft could send; Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, And at their belts their quivers rung. Their dusty palfreys, and array, Showed they had marched a weary way. IX. ’Tis meet that I should tell you now, How fairly armed, and ordered how, The soldiers of the guard, With musket, pike, and morion, To welcome noble Marmion, Stood in the castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepared: Entered the train, and such a clang, As then through all his turrets rang, Old Norham never heard. X. The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, The trumpets flourished brave, The cannon from the ramparts glanced, And thundering welcome gave. A blithe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion crossed the court, He scattered angels round. “Welcome to Norham, Marmion! Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land!”