XI.

Crichtoun! though now thy miry court
  But pens the lazy steer and sheep, 210
  Thy turrets rude, and totter’d Keep,
Have been the minstrel’s loved resort. 
Oft have I traced, within thy fort,
  Of mouldering shields the mystic sense,
  Scutcheons of honour, or pretence, 215
Quarter’d in old armorial sort,
  Remains of rude magnificence. 
Nor wholly yet had time defaced
  Thy lordly gallery fair;
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 220
Whose twisted knots, with roses laced,
  Adorn thy ruin’d stair. 
Still rises unimpair’d below,
The court-yard’s graceful portico;
Above its cornice, row and row 225
  Of fair hewn facets richly show
    Their pointed diamond form,
  Though there but houseless cattle go,
    To shield them from the storm. 
  And, shuddering, still may we explore, 230
    Where oft whilom were captives pent,
  The darkness of thy Massy More;
    Or, from thy grass-grown battlement,
May trace, in undulating line,
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 235

XII.

Another aspect Crichtoun show’d,
As through its portal Marmion rode;
But yet ’twas melancholy state
Received him at the outer gate;
For none were in the Castle then, 240
But women, boys, or aged men. 
With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame,
To welcome noble Marmion, came;
Her son, a stripling twelve years old,
Proffer’d the Baron’s rein to hold; 245
For each man that could draw a sword
Had march’d that morning with their lord,
Earl Adam Hepburn,—­he who died
On Flodden, by his sovereign’s side. 
Long may his Lady look in vain! 250
She ne’er shall see his gallant train,
Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 
’Twas a brave race, before the name
Of hated Bothwell stain’d their fame.

XIII.

And here two days did Marmion rest, 255
  With every rite that honour claims,
Attended as the King’s own guest;—­
  Such the command of Royal James,
Who marshall’d then his land’s array,
Upon the Borough-moor that lay. 260
Perchance he would not foeman’s eye
Upon his gathering host should pry,
Till full prepared was every band
To march against the English land. 
Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay’s wit 265
Oft cheer the Baron’s moodier fit;
And, in his turn, he knew to prize
Lord Marmion’s powerful mind, and wise,—­
Train’d in the lore of Rome and Greece,
And policies of war and peace. 270