Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; He roll'd his kindling eye, With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, Yet made a calm reply: 260 'That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, He might not brook the northern air. More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, I left him sick in Lindisfarn: Enough of him.--But, Heron, say, 265 Why does thy lovely lady gay Disdain to grace the hall to-day? Or has that dame, so fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage?'-- He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 270 Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame. XVII. Unmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, Careless the Knight replied, 'No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, Delights in cage to bide: 275 Norham is grim and grated close, Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, And many a darksome tower; And better loves my lady bright To sit in liberty and light, 280 In fair Queen Margaret's bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove; But where shall we find leash or band, For dame that loves to rove? 285 Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She'll stoop when she has tired her wing.'-- XVIII. 'Nay, if with Royal James's bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a messenger, 290 Your tender greetings prompt to bear; For, to the Scottish court address'd, I journey at our King's behest, And pray you, of your grace, provide For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 295 I have not ridden in Scotland since James back'd the cause of that mock prince, Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. Then did I march with Surrey's power, 300 What time we razed old Ayton tower.'-- XIX. 'For such-like need, my lord, I trow, Norham can find you guides enow; For here be some have prick'd as far, On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar; 305 Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale; Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, And given them light to set their hoods.'-- XX. 'Now, in good sooth,' Lord Marmion cried, 310 'Were I in warlike wise to ride, A better guard I would not lack, Than your stout forayers at my back; But as in form of peace I go, A friendly messenger, to know, 315 Why through all Scotland, near and far, Their King is mustering troops for war, The sight of plundering Border spears Might justify suspicious fears, And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 320 Break out in some unseemly broil: A herald were my fitting guide; Or friar, sworn in peace to bide; Or pardoner, or travelling priest, Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.' 325 XXI.