Alnwick Castle

Home of the Percy's high-born race,
Home of their beautiful and brave.
Alike their birth and burial-place,
Their cradle and their grave!
Still stemly o'er the castle gate
Their house's Lion stands in state
As in his proud departed hours;
And warriors frown in stone on high.
And feudal banners "flout the sky"
Above his princely towers.

A gentle hill its side inclines
Lovely in England's fadeless green,
To meet the quiet stream which winds
Through this romantic scene
As silently and sweetly still
As when, at evening, on that hill.
While summer's wind blew soft and low,
Seated by gallant Hotspur's side.
His Katherine was a happy bride
A thousand years ago.

Gaze on the Abbey's ruined pile:
Does not the succouring ivy, keeping
Her watch around it, seem to smile,
As o'er a loved one sleeping?
One solitary turret gray
Still tells, in melancholy glory.
The legend of the Cheviot day,
The Percy's proudest border story.
That day its roof was triumph's arch;
Then rang, from aisle to pictured dome,
The light step of the soldier's march.
The music of the trump and drum ;
And babe, and sire, the old, the young,
And the monk's hymn, and minstrel's song,
And woman's pure kiss, sweet and long.
Welcomed her warrior home.

[Extract]