“The king approved his favourite’s aim;
In vain a rival barred his claim,
Whose fate with Clare’s was plight,
For he attaints that rival’s fame
With treason’s charge—and on they came,
In mortal lists to fight.
Their oaths are said,
Their prayers are prayed,
Their lances in the rest are laid,
They meet in mortal shock;
And, hark! the throng, with thundering cry,
Shout ‘Marmion! Marmion!’ to the sky,
‘De Wilton to the block!’
Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide
When in the lists two champions ride,
Say, was Heaven’s justice here?
When, loyal in his love and faith,
Wilton found overthrow or death,
Beneath a traitor’s spear?
How false the charge, how true he fell,
This guilty packet best can tell.”
Then drew a packet from her breast,
Paused, gathered voice, and spoke the rest.
