"'And, if thou meet'st them under shield,
Upon them bravely,--do thy worst;
And foul fall him that blenches first!"

They parted; De Wilton to Surrey's camp, the Douglas to his castle to
ponder on the strange events of the past few days, and Clare to weep in
loneliness.

It was yet early when Marmion ordered his train to be ready for the
southward march. He had safe pass-ports for all, given under the royal
seal of James. Douglas provided a guide as far as Surrey's camp. The
ancient earl, with stately grace, placed the Lady Clare on her palfrey
and whispered in her ear, "The falcon's prey has flown."

As adieus were about to be said, Lord Marmion began:

"In the treatment received, I, your guest, by your king's command, might
well complain of coldness, indifference, and disrespect; but I let it
pass, hoping that,

"'Part we in friendship from your land;
And, noble Earl, receive my hand.'--
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:--
'My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will,
To each one who he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my King's alone,
From turret to foundation-stone--
The hand of Douglas is his own;
And never shall in friendly grasp,
The hand of such as Marmion clasp.'"--

"Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,
And,--'This to me!' he said,--
'An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
He, who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near--
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!
And if thou said'st, I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!'
On the Earl's cheek, a flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:
Fierce he broke forth,--And dare'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?
And hop'st thou thence unscathed to go?--Up
drawbridge, grooms--what, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.'
Lord Marmion turned--well was his need,
And dash'd the rowels