And that Red King, who, while of old, 315
Through Boldrewood the chase he led,
By his loved huntsman’s arrow bled—­
Ytene’s oaks have heard again
Renew’d such legendary strain;
For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul, 320
That Amadis so famed in hall,
For Oriana, foil’d in fight
The Necromancer’s felon might;
And well in modern verse hast wove
Partenopex’s mystic love; 325
Hear, then, attentive to my lay,
A knightly tale of Albion’s elder day.

CANTO FIRST.

The castle.

I.

Day 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,
The loophole grates, where captives weep, 5
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
  In yellow lustre shone. 
The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,
Seem’d forms of giant height:  10
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 15
  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, 20
  The Castle gates were barr’d;
Above the gloomy portal arch,
Timing his footsteps to a march,
  The Warder kept his guard;
Low humming, as he paced along, 25
Some ancient Border gathering-song.

III.

A distant trampling sound he hears;
He looks abroad, and soon appears,
O’er Horncliff-hill a plump of spears,
  Beneath a pennon gay; 30
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, 35
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; 40
And joyfully that knight did call,
To sewer, squire, and seneschal.

IV.