And why stands Scotland idly now, Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow, Since England gains the pass the while, And struggles through the deep defile? What checks the fiery soul of James? Why sits that champion of the dames Inactive on his steed, And sees, between him and his land, Between him and Tweed’s southern strand, His host Lord Surrey lead? What ’vails the vain knight-errant’s brand? Oh, Douglas for thy leading wand! Fierce Randolph, for thy speed! Oh, for one hour of Wallace wight, Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight, And cry, “Saint Andrew and our right!” Another sight had seen that morn, From Fate’s dark book a leaf been torn, And Flodden had been Bannockbourne! The precious hour has passed in vain, And England’s host has gained the plain; Wheeling their march, and circling still, Around the base of Flodden Hill. XXI. 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.” XXII.