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long the bridge Lord Marmion rode,Proudly his red-roan charger trode,His helm hung at the saddlebow;Well by his visage you might knowHe was a stalwart knight, and keen,And had in many a battle been;The scar on his brown cheek revealedA token true of Bosworth field;His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire,Showed spirit proud and prompt to ire;Yet lines of thought upon his cheekDid deep design and counsel speak.His forehead, by his casque worn bare,His thick moustache, and curly hair,Coal-black, and grizzled here and there,But more through toil than age;His square-turned joints, and strength of limb,Showed him no carpet knight so trim,But in close fight a champion grim,In camps a leader sage.
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