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SAY set on Norham's castled steep,'
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,

And Cheviot's mountains lone :
The battled towers, the donjon keep,2
The loophole grates, where captives weep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow lustre shone.

. See Appendix, Note C. ? It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the donjon, in its proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal castle; a high square tower, with walls of tremendous thickness, situated in the centre of the other buildings, from which, however, it was usually detached. Here, in case of

The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,

Seem'd forms of giant height:
Their armour, as it caught the rays,
Flash'd back again the western blaze,

In lines of dazzling light.

II. Saint George's banner, broad and gay, Now faded, as the fading ray

Less bright, and less, was flung; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the Donjon Tower,

So heavily it hung. The scouts had parted on their search,

The Castle gates were barr’dl; 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 outward defences being gained, the garrison retreated to make their last stand. The donjon contained the great hall, and principal rooms of state for solemn occasions, and also the prison of the fortress : from which last circumstance we derive the modern and restricted use of the word dungeon. Ducange (voce DuxJO, conjectures plausibly, that the name is derived from these keeps being usually built upon a hill, which in Celtic is called Dun. Borlase supposes the word came from the darkness of the apartments in these towers, which were thence figuratively called Dungeons: thus deriving the ancient word from the modern application of it.


A distant trampling sound he hears ;
He looks abroad, and soon appears,
O’er Horncliff-hill a plump of spears,

Beneath a penon gay;
A horseman, darting from the crowd,
Like lightning from a summer cloud,
Spurs on his mettled courser proud,

Before the dark array.
Beneath the sable palisade,
That closed the Castle barricade,

His buglehorn he blew;
The warder hasted from the wall,
And warn’d the Captain in the hall,

For well the blast he knew;
And joyfully that knight did call,
To sewer, squire, and seneschal.

“ 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,

| This wond properly applies to a flight of water-foul; but is applied, his analogy, to a boily of horse.

" There is a knight of the North Country,
Which leads a lusty plump of spears"

Floriden Field

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 unbarr'd,
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard,
The lofty palisade unsparr'd,

And let the drawbridge fall.

1. .
Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode,
Proudly his red-roan charger trode,
His helm hung at the saddlebow ;
Well by his visage you might know
He was a stalworth knight, and keen,
And had in many a battle been ;
The scar on his brown cheek reveal'd
A token true of Bosworth field;
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire,
Show'd spirit proud, and prompt to ire ;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek
Did deep design and counsel speak.
His forehead, by his casque worn bare,
His thick mustache, and curly hair,
Coal-black, and grizzled here and there,

But more through toil than age;
His square-turn'd joints, and strength of limb,
Show'd him no carpet knight so trim,

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