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A NORTHERN PROSPECT.

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HEN blazing noon illumes the plain, And tips each spiry dome with quiv'ring fire, Where Ratcheugh's pillar'd rocks aspire Swift let my steps the airy height attain, Around the various prospect thrown, Th' expanded sea's majestic zone In many a floating tint reflects the beam; Dark stretch the wood's high-shelt'ring arms, The village spreads her simple charms, And shines afar the silver-winding stream.

Bold on the eye advance those tow'rs, Where Percy boasts his princely bowers, Crown the slope-hill, and awe the subject-vale; In faded glory Warkworth's turrets rise, And point to yonder cell* the raptur'd eyes, Where figur'd rocks record the Hermit's tale. Swift o'er Howick's attic hall,

And shelter'd Craster's sylvan wall,

The Hermitage.

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The view excursive flies,

Where Dunstonburgh* o'erhangs the roaring tide, And lifts his shatter'd arms, and mourns his ruin'd pride.

Trembling o'er the rocky ground,
His genius sends a hollow sound,

Like the vex'd sea, when thund'ring winds are fled;
"Relentless hands, which these proud works de-
fac❜d!

Mistaken avarice, with such costly waste
To rear the hardy peasant's simple shed!
See Alnwick tower in Gothic pride;

The marsh exhale, the heath recede,
In graceful wave the ductile river glide;
'Tis liberal power's creative deed.
And far-conspicuous on the wat'ry waste,
Bambrough's huge rock the massy structures crown;
On the black vale when rolling vapours spread,

The turrets gleam high o'er the driving blast:
Sharp rear'd their drooping head.

Beneath old Cheviot's frown,

See Ford's white line the verdant slope adorn;
But when shall rise my vernal morn ?

A romantic fortress, nearly demolished to enlarge a farm-house, which lies at its feet.

† Dr. Sharp, late Archdeacon of Northumberland.

Ford Castle, repair'd by Lord Delaval.

These fragments of Lancastrian pride,

These broken halls, these jutting mounds o'erthrown, Rough gales, as thro' the mould'ring arch they haste, Learn, soften'd, to bemoan;

While deaf'ning waves, with aggregated roar,
Surmount the wall they vainly lash'd before."

Dim-shewn in yonder leafy glade,
Sequester'd Huln her fair enclosure rears.
Sweet hope of peaceful years,

Well might'st thou haunt that cloister'd shade!
Let those proud trophies* tell

Where hostile monarchs fought and felf,

These walls beleag'ring round;

Unhurt by war's tumultuous rage, The tranquil monk illum'd the page, Safe in thy consecrated ground.

Amid yon' happy woods

The careless rustic seeks his game,
Or in the murm'ring floods
Ensnares the fry, by loneness tame;

Nor heeds where creeping ivy's trail
O'er knightly trophies draws its veil;
Nor, as the crumbling turrets fade,

* Monuments in the pleasure-grounds of the Duke of Northumberland, which commemorate the captivity of one king of Scotland, and the death of another, while they were besieging the castle of Alnwick.

Remarks the abbey's shorten'd shade;
Unmov'd alike by piety and fame.
Ye who catch at glory's flame,

To yon' majestic walls repair;

Know Tyson,† Vescy,+ or Fitzharding* there Spread their rich banners in the flutt'ring gale; Learn to contemn, from their neglected tale, The wild ambition of a name.

The Saxon, and first Norman Lords of Alnwick. * Founder of Warkworth Castle.

FINIS.

J. AND J. HADDOCK,

PRINTERS,

WARRINGTON.

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