Marmion. Вальтер СкоттЧитать онлайн книгу.
to a stall,
Would scarce have wished to be their prey,
For Lutterward and Fontenaye.
High minds, of native pride and force, 200
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse!
Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have,
Thou art the torturer of the brave!
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel, 205
Even while they writhe beneath the smart
Of civil conflict in the heart.
For soon Lord Marmion raised his head,
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said,
‘Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 210
Seem’d in mine ear a death-peal rung,
Such as in nunneries they toll
For some departing sister’s soul?
Say, what may this portend?’-
Then first the Palmer silence broke, 215
(The livelong day he had not spoke)
‘The death of a dear friend.’
Marmion, whose steady heart and eye
Ne’er changed in worst extremity;
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 220
Even from his King, a haughty look;
Whose accents of command controll’d,
In camps, the boldest of the bold-
Thought, look, and utterance fail’d him now,
Fall’n was his glance, and flush’d his brow: 225
For either in the tone,
Or something in the Palmer’s look,
So full upon his conscience strook,
That answer he found none.
Thus oft it haps, that when within 230
They shrink at sense of secret sin,
A feather daunts the brave;
A fool’s wild speech confounds the wise,
And proudest princes vail their eyes
Before their meanest slave. 235
Well might he falter! – By his aid
Was Constance Beverley betray’d.
Not that he augur’d of the doom,
Which on the living closed the tomb:
But, tired to hear the desperate maid 240
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;
And wroth, because, in wild despair,
She practised on the life of Clare;
Its fugitive the Church he gave,
Though not a victim, but a slave; 245
And deem’d restraint in convent strange
Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge,
Himself, proud Henry’s favourite peer,
Held Romish thunders idle fear,
Secure his pardon he might hold, 250
For some slight mulct of penance-gold.
Thus judging, he gave secret way,
When the stern priests surprised their prey.
His train but deem’d the favourite page
Was left behind, to spare his age; 255
Or other if they deem’d, none dared
To mutter what he thought and heard:
Woe to the vassal, who durst pry
Into Lord Marmion’s privacy!
His conscience slept-he deem’d her well, 260
And safe secured in yonder cell;
But, waken’d by her favourite lay,
And that strange Palmer’s boding say,
That fell so ominous and drear,
Full on the object of his fear, 265
To aid remorse’s venom’d throes,
Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose;
And Constance, late betray’d and scorn’d,
All lovely on his soul return’d;
Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 270
She left her convent’s peaceful wall,
Crimson’d with shame, with terror mute,
Dreading alike escape, pursuit,
Till love, victorious o’er alarms,
Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 275
‘Alas!’ he thought, ‘how changed that mien!
How changed these timid looks have been,
Since years of guilt, and of disguise,
Have steel’d her brow, and arm’d her eyes!
No more of virgin terror speaks 280
The blood that mantles in her cheeks;
Fierce, and unfeminine, are there,
Frenzy for joy, for grief despair;
And I the cause-for whom were given
Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven! – 285
Would,’ thought he, as the picture grows,
‘I on its stalk had left the rose!
Oh, why should man’s success remove
The very charms that wake his love! -
Her convent’s peaceful solitude 290
Is now a prison harsh and rude;
And, pent within the narrow cell,
How will her spirit chafe and swell!
How brook the stern monastic laws!
The penance how-and I the cause! – 295
Vigil, and scourge-perchance even worse!’-
And twice he rose to cry, ‘To horse!’
And twice his Sovereign’s mandate came,
Like damp upon a kindling flame;
And twice he thought, ‘Gave I not charge 300
She should be safe, though not at large?
They durst not, for their island, shred
One golden ringlet from her head.’
While thus in Marmion’s bosom strove
Repentance