The streets were alive with martial show. The
Lion King led to lodgings that overlooked the town. Here Marmion, by the
King's command, was to remain until the vesper hour and then to ride to
Holy-Rood. Meanwhile Sir David ordered a banquet rich and rare.
At the hour appointed, Marmion, attended by the Lion-Lord, arrived at
the palace hall, at Holy-Rood. In this princely abode James was feasting
the chiefs of Scotland. The historic halls rang with mirth, for well the
monarch loved song and banquet. By day the tourney was held, at night
the mazy dance was trod by quaint maskers. The scene of this night
outshone all others. The dazzling lights hanging from the galleries,
displayed the grace of lords and ladies of the court. The "motley fool"
retailed his jest, the juggler performed his feat, the minstrel plied
his harp, and the lady touched a softer string.
All made room as through this throng the King came to greet his guest.
And now, his courtesy to show,
"He doff'd to Marmion, bending low,
His broider'd cap and plume.
For royal was his garb and mien,
His cloak, of crimson velvet piled,
Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild;
His gorgeous collar hung adown,
Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown,
The thistle brave, of old renown:
His trusty blade, Toledo right,
Descended from a baldric bright;
White were his buskins, on the heel,
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel:
His bonnet, all of crimson fair,
Was buttoned with a ruby rare:
And Marmion deemed he ne'er had seen
A prince of such a noble mien.
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