And many a rugged Border clan,
With Huntly, and with Home.
Then the ghastly picture of the fallen knight, mortally wounded,
‘Dragged from among the horses’ feet,
With dinted shield, and helmet beat,
The falcon-crest and plumage gone,
Can that be haughty Marmion!
‘Passing from the fire and dash of the battle-piece, we have the warrior’s despairing appeal—
‘And half he murmured,—“Is there none,
Of all my halls have nursed,