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(From Marmion)
NOT here need my desponding rhyme | |
| Lament the ravages of time, | |
| As erst by Newark’s riven towers, | |
| And Ettrick stripped of forest bowers. | |
| True, Caledonia’s queen is changed, | 5 |
| Since, on her dusky summit ranged, | |
| Within its steepy limits pent, | |
| By bulwark, line, and battlement, | |
| And flanking towers, and laky flood, | |
| Guarded and garrisoned she stood, | 10 |
| Denying entrance or resort, | |
| Save at each tall embattled port; | |
| Above whose arch, suspended, hung | |
| Portcullis spiked with iron prong. | |
| That long is gone,—but not so long, | 15 |
| Since, early closed, and opening late, | |
| Jealous revolved the studded gate, | |
| Whose task, from eve to morning tide, | |
| A wicket churlishly supplied. | |
| Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, | 20 |
| Dun-Edin! O, how altered now, | |
| When safe amid thy mountain court | |
| Thou sitt’st, like empress at her sport, | |
| And, liberal, unconfined, and free, | |
| Flinging thy white arms to the sea, | 25 |
| For thy dark cloud with umbered lower, | |
| That hung o’er cliff and lake and tower, | |
| Thou gleam’st against the western ray | |
| Ten thousand lines of brighter day. * * * * * | |
| So thou, fair city! disarrayed | 30 |
| Of battled wall and rampart’s aid, | |
| As stately seem’st, but lovelier far | |
| Than in that panoply of war. | |
| Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne | |
| Strength and security are flown; | 35 |
| Still, as of yore, queen of the north! | |
| Still canst thou send thy children forth. | |
| Ne’er readier at alarm-bell’s call | |
| Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, | |
| Than now, in danger, shall be thine, | 40 |
| Thy dauntless voluntary line; | |
| For fosse and turret proud to stand, | |
| Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. | |
| Thy thousands, trained to martial toil, | |
| Full red would stain their native soil, | 45 |
| Ere from thy mural crown there fell | |
| The slightest knosp or pinnacle. | |
| And if it come, as come it may, | |
| Dun-Edin! that eventful day, | |
| Renowned for hospitable deed, | 50 |
| That virtue much with heaven may plead, | |
| In patriarchal times whose care | |
| Descending angels deigned to share; | |
| That claim may wreslle blessings down | |
| On those who fight for the good town, | 55 |
| Destined in every age to be | |
| Refuge of injured royalty; | |
| Since first, when conquering York arose, | |
| To Henry meek she gave repose, | |
| Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, | 60 |
| Great Bourbon’s relics, sad she saw. | |
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