Any visitor to Norham will still be able to imagine the stir and the imposing spectacle described in the opening stanzas of the first canto; and it is a pleasure to follow Scott’s minute and faithful picture of Crichtoun by examining the imposing ruin as it stands at the present day.  Then it is impossible not to feel that the Edinburgh of the sixteenth century was exactly as it is depicted in the poem, and that the troops on the Borough Moor were disposed as seen by the trained military eye of Sir Walter Scott.  It would be difficult to find anywhere a more striking ancient stronghold than Tantallon, nor would it be easy to conceive a more appropriate scene for that grim and exciting morning interview in which the venerable Douglas found that he had harboured a recreant knight.  Above all, there is the great battle scene, standing alone in literature for its carefully detailed delineation--its persistent minuteness, its rapidity of movement, its balanced effects, its energetic purpose—­and surpassing everything in modern verse for its vivid Homeric realism.  Fifteen years before, as we have seen, Scott had the progress of the battle in his mind’s eye, and at length he produced his description as if he had been present in the character of a skilful and interested spectator.  There are envious people who decline to admit that Scott discovered his scenery, and who contend that others knew all about it before and appreciated it in their own way.  Be it so; and yet the fact remains that Scott likewise saw and appreciated in the way peculiar to him, and thereby enabled his numerous readers to share his enjoyment.  A very interesting and suggestive account of the new popularity given to the Flodden district by the publication of ‘Marmion’ will be found in Lockhart’s Life, iii. 12.  In the autumn of 1812 Scott visited Rokeby, doing the journey on horseback, along with his eldest boy and girl on ponies.  The following is an episode of the way:—­

’Halting at Flodden to expound the field of battle to his young folks, he found that “Marmion” had, as might have been expected, benefited the keeper of the public-house there very largely; and the village Boniface, overflowing with gratitude, expressed his anxiety to have a Scott’s Head for his sign-post.  The poet demurred to this proposal, and assured mine host that nothing could be more appropriate than the portraiture of a foaming tankard, which already surmounted his doorway.  “Why, the painter man has not made an ill job,” said the landlord, “but I would fain have something more connected with the book that has brought me so much good custom.”  He produced a well-thumbed copy, and handing it to the author, begged he would at least suggest a motto from the Tale of Flodden Field.  Scott opened the book at the death-scene of the hero, and his eye was immediately caught by the “inscription” in black letter:—­

     “Drink, weary pilgrim, drink, and pray
      For the kind soul of Sibyl Grey,” &c.