Chapter 4 No.4

"Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie,

Bring pasties of the doe,

And quickly make the entrance free,

And bid my heralds ready be,

And every minstrel sound his glee,

And all our trumpets blow;

And, from the platform, spare ye not

To fire a noble salvo-shot:

Lord Marmion waits below!"

Then to the castle's lower ward

Sped forty yeomen tall,

The iron-studded gates unbarred,

Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard,

The lofty palisade unsparred,

And let the drawbridge fall.