Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/149

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CANTO V.
119
That fangless Lion, too, their guide,Might chance to lose his glistering hide;100Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied,Could make a kirtle rare.'
V.Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race,Of different language, form, and face, A various race of man;105Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd,And wild and garish semblance made,The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid,And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd, To every varying clan,110Wild through their red or sable hairLook'd out their eyes with savage stare, On Marmion as he pass'd;Their legs above the knee were bare;Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare,115 And harden'd to the blast;Of taller race, the chiefs they ownWere by the eagle's plumage known.The hunted red-deer's undress'd hideTheir hairy buskins well supplied;120The graceful bonnet deck'd their head:Back from their shoulders hung the plaid;A broadsword of unwieldy length,A dagger proved for edge and strength, A studded targe they wore,125And quivers, bows, and shafts,—but, O!Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, To that which England bore.The Isles-men carried at their backsThe ancient Danish battle-axe.130They raised a wild and wondering cry,As with his guide rode Marmion by.Loud were their clamouring tongues, as whenThe clanging sea-fowl leave the fen,
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