Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, Proudly his red-roan charger trode, His helm hung at the saddlebow; 60 Well by his visage you might know He was a stalworth knight, and keen, And had in many a battle been; The scar on his brown cheek reveal'd A token true of Bosworth field; 65 His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire, Show'd spirit proud, and prompt to ire; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek Did deep design and counsel speak. His forehead by his casque worn bare, 70 His thick mustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turn'd joints, and strength of limb, Show'd him no carpet knight so trim, 75 But in close fight a champion grim, In camps a leader sage. VI. Well was he arm'd from head to heel, In mail and plate of Milan steel; But his strong helm, of mighty cost, 80 Was all with burnish'd gold emboss'd; Amid the plumage of the crest, A falcon hover'd on her nest, With wings outspread, and forward breast; E'en such a falcon, on his shield, 85 Soar'd sable in an azure field: The golden legend bore aright, Who checks at me, to death is dight. Blue was the charger's broider'd rein; Blue ribbons deck'd his arching mane; 90 The knightly housing's ample fold Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold. VII. Behind him rode two gallant squires, Of noble name, and knightly sires; They burn'd the gilded spurs to claim: 95 For well could each a warhorse 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, 100 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, 105 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; 110 Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, Where, blazon'd sable, as before, The towering falcon seem'd to soar. Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, 115 In hosen black, and jerkins blue, With falcons broider'd on each breast, Attended on their lord's behest. Each, chosen for an archer good, Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; 120 Each one a six-foot bow could bend, And far a cloth-yard shaft could send; Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, And at their belts their quivers rung. Their dusty palfreys, and array, 125 Show'd they had march'd a weary way. IX.