The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd; But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, Grew pale as death, and cold as lead,-- She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. 870 'Cheer thee, my child!' the Abbess said, 'They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride alone with armed band.'-- 'Nay, holy mother, nay,' Fitz-Eustace said, 'the lovely Clare 875 Will be in Lady Angus' care, In Scotland while we stay; And, when we move, an easy ride Will bring us to the English side, Female attendance to provide 880 Befitting Gloster's heir; Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, By slightest look, or act, or word, To harass Lady Clare. Her faithful guardian he will be, 885 Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e'en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, Within her kinsman's halls.' He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace; 890 His faith was painted on his face, And Clare's worst fear relieved. The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, Entreated, threaten'd, grieved; 895 To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd, And call'd the Prioress to aid, To curse with candle, bell, and book. Her head the grave Cistertian shook: 900 'The Douglas, and the King,' she said, 'In their commands will be obey'd; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall.' XXXI. The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 905 Assumed her wonted state again,- For much of state she had,-- Composed her veil, and raised her head, And--'Bid,' in solemn voice she said, 'Thy master, bold and bad, 910 The records of his house turn o'er, And, when he shall there written see, That one of his own ancestry Drove the monks forth of Coventry, Bid him his fate explore! 915 Prancing in pride of earthly trust, His charger hurl'd him to the dust, And, by a base plebeian thrust, He died his band before. God judge 'twixt Marmion and me; 920 He is a Chief of high degree, And I a poor recluse; Yet oft, in holy writ, we see Even such weak minister as me May the oppressor bruise: 925 For thus, inspired, did Judith slay The mighty in his sin, And Jael thus, and Deborah'-- Here hasty Blount broke in: 'Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band; 930 Saint Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand All day, with bonnet in thy hand, To hear the Lady preach? By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, 935 Will sharper sermon teach. Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse; The Dame must patience take perforce.'-- XXXII.