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We shall walk to more through the sosten plain
FROM "ENDYMION," BOOK 1.
A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY When silver edges the imagery,
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and dio;
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, A Thing of beauty is a joy forever :
Then go, – but go alone the while, Its loveliness increases ; it will never
Then view St. David's ruined pile ; Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep And, home returning, soothly swear, A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Was never scene so sad and fair ! Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
The pillared arches were over their head, Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Spreading herbs and flowerets bright Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Glistened with the dew of night; Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there, Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all,
But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
The monk gazed long on the lovely moon, From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Then into the night he looked forth; Trees old and young, sprouting a shally boon And red and bright the streamers light For simple sheep; andesuch are daffodils
Were dancing in the glowing north.
The youth in glittering squadrons start,
By a steel-clenched postern door, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. They entered now the chancel tall ;
The darkened roof rose high aloof
On pillars lofty and light and small ;
Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille :
The corbells were carved grotesque and grim;
With base and with capital flourished around,
bound. For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Full many a scutcheon and banner, riven, When the broken arches are black in night, Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven, And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
Around the screened altar's pale; When the cold light's uncertain shower And there the dying lamps did burn, Streams on the ruined central tower;
Before thy low and lonely urn, When buttress and buttress, alternately, O gallant Chief of Otterburne ! Seem framed of ebon and ivory ;
And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale !
FROM "THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL" CANTO II.
O fading honors of the dead ! O high ambition, lowly laid !
The scouts had parted on their search,
The castle gates were barred ; Above the gloomy portal arch, Timing his footsteps to a march,
The warder kept his guard ; Low humming, as he paced along, Some ancient Border-gathering song.
The moon on the east oriel shone
By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand "Twixt poplars straight the osier wand
In many a freakish knot had twined ; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone. The silver light, so pale and faint, Showed many a prophet, and many a saint,
Whose image on the glass was dyed ; Full in the midst, his Cross of Red Triumphant Michael brandished,
And trampled the Apostate's pride. The moonbeam kissed the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a bloody stain.
A distant trampling sound he hears ; He looks abroad, and soon appears, O'er Horncliff hill, a plump of spears,
Beneath a pennon gay ;
Before the dark array.
His bugle-horn he blew ;
For well the blast he knew ; And joyfully that knight did call To sewer, squire, and seneschal.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
FROM "MARMION," CANTO 1.
[The ruinous castle of Norham (anciently called Ubbanford) is situated on the southern bank of the Tweed, about six miles above Berwick, and where that river is still the boundary between Eng. land and Scotland. The extent of its ruins, as well as its historical importance, shows it to have been a place of magnificence as well as strength. Edward I. resided there when he was created uinpire of the dispute concerning the Scottish succession. It was repeatcdly taken and retaken during the wars between England and Scotland, and, indeed, scarce any happened in which it had not a principal share. Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank which overhangs the river. The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well as picturesque They consist of a large shattered tower, with many vaults, and fragments of other edifices cnclosed within an outward wall of great circuit.]
“Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie,
Bring pasties of the doe,
And all our trumpets blow;
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.
Day set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone :
In yellow lustre shone.
Seemed forms of giant height;
In lines of dazzling light.
Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode,
But more through toil than age;
St. George's banner, broad and gay,
Less bright, and less, was flung ; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the donjon tower,
So heavily it hung.