Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/119

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INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH.
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From the white thorn the May-flower shed180Its dewy fragrance round our head:Not Ariel lived more merrilyUnder the blossom'd bough, than we.
 And blithesome nights, too, have been ours,When Winter stript the summer's bowers.185Careless we heard, what now I hear,The wild blast sighing deep and drear,When fires were bright, and lamps beam'd gay,And ladies tuned the lovely lay;And he was held a laggard soul,190Who shunn'd to quaff the sparkling bowl.Then he, whose absence we deplore,Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore,The longer miss'd, bewail'd the more;And thou, and I, and dear-loved R—,195And one whose name I may not say,—For not Mimosa's tender treeShrinks sooner from the touch than he,—In merry chorus well combined,With laughter drown'd the whistling wind.200Mirth was within; and care withoutMight gnaw her nails to hear our shout.Not but amid the buxom sceneSome grave discourse might intervene—Of the good horse that bore him best,205His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest:For, like mad Tom's, our chiefest care,Was horse to ride, and weapon wear.Such nights we've had; and, though the gameOf manhood be more sober tame,210And though the field-day, or the drill,Seem less important now—yet stillSuch may we hope to share again.The sprightly thought inspires my strain!And mark, how, like a horseman true,215Lord Marmion's march I thus renew.
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