V.

Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, Proudly his red-roan charger trode, His helm hung at the saddlebow; Well by his visage you might know He was a stalwart knight, and keen, And had in many a battle been; The scar on his brown cheek revealed A token true of Bosworth field; His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire, Showed 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, His thick moustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turned joints, and strength of limb, Showed him no carpet knight so trim, But in close fight a champion grim, In camps a leader sage.