'Tis meet that I should tell you now, How fairly arm'd, and order'd how, The soldiers of the guard, With musket, pike, and morion, 130 To welcome noble Marmion, Stood in the Castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepared: 135 Enter'd 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 flourish'd brave, 140 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 cross'd the court, 145 He scatter'd angels round. 'Welcome to Norham, Marmion! Stout heart, and open hand! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land!' 150 XI. Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, With silver scutcheon round their neck, Stood on the steps of stone, By which you reach the donjon gate, And there, with herald pomp and state, 155 They hail'd Lord Marmion: They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; And he, their courtesy to requite, 160 Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, All as he lighted down. 'Now, largesse, largesse, Lord Marmion, Knight of the crest of gold! A blazon'd shield, in battle won, 165 Ne'er guarded heart so bold.' XII. They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, Where the guests stood all aside, And loudly nourish'd the trumpet-call, And the heralds loudly cried, 170 --'Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold: There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 175 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand; To him he lost his lady-love, And to the King his land. Ourselves beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair; 180 We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, And saw his saddle bare; We saw the victor win the crest, He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, 185 His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquer'd in the right, Marmion of Fontenaye!' 190 XIII.