XVIII.

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed, Where Lennel’s convent closed their march; (There now is left but one frail arch, Yet mourn thou not its cells: Our time a fair exchange has made; Hard by, in hospitable shade, A reverend pilgrim dwells, Well worth the whole Bernardine brood That e’er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) Yet did Saint Bernard’s Abbot there Give Marmion entertainment fair, And lodging for his train and Clare. Next morn the baron climbed the tower, To view afar the Scottish power, Encamped on Flodden edge: The white pavilions made a show, Like remnants of the winter snow, Along the dusky ridge. Long Marmion looked: at length his eye Unusual movement might descry Amid the shifting lines: The Scottish host drawn out appears, For, flashing on the edge of spears The eastern sunbeam shines. Their front now deepening, now extending Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, Now drawing back, and now descending, The skilful Marmion well could know, They watched the motions of some foe, Who traversed on the plain below.