Publisher's Synopsis
A distant trampling sound he hears;He looks abroad, and soon appearsO'er Horncliff Hill a plump of spears, Beneath a pennon gay;A horseman, darting from the crowd, Like lightning from a summer cloud, Spurs on his mettled courser proud, Before the dark array.Beneath the sable palisadeThat closed the castle barricade, His bugle-horn he blew;The warder hasted from the wall, And warned the captain in the hall, For well the blast he knew;And joyfully that knight did call, To sewer, squire, and seneschal."Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, Bring pasties of the doe, And quickly make the entrance free, And bid my heralds ready be, And every minstrel sound his glee, And all our trumpets blow;And, from the platform, spare ye notTo fire a noble salvo-shot: Lord Marmion waits below!"Then to the castle's lower wardSped forty yeomen tall, The iron-studded gates unbarred, Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, The lofty palisade unsparred, And let the drawbrid
