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But, hark! I hear the distant drum! The day of Flodden Field is come, Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, And store of literary wealth.
WHILE great events were on the gale,
And, with short interval, did pass
II. I said, Tantallon’s dizzy steep Hung o'er the margin of the deep. Many a rude tower and rampart there Repelld the insult of the air, Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. Above the rest, a turret square Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; The Bloody Heart was in the Field, And in the chief three mullets stood, The cognizance of Douglas blood. The turret held a narrow stair, Which, mounted, gave you access where, A parapet's embattled row Did seaward round the castle go. 1 [MS.—“The tower contain'd a narrow stair,
And gave an open access where."]