Note Back to Main Text — Chapter II

"Whether an impulse that has birth Soon as the infant wakes on earth, One with our feelings and our powers, And rather part of us than ours; Or whether fitlier term'd the sway Of habit, formed in early day, Howe'er derived, its force confest Rules with despotic sway the breast. And drags us on by viewless chain, While taste and reason plead in vain.... Thus, while I ape the measure wild Of tales that charm'd me yet a child, Rude though they be, still with the chime Return the thoughts of early time, And feelings rous'd in life's first day, Glow in the line and prompt the lay. Then rise those crags, that mountain tower Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. It was a barren scene and wild Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; But ever and anon between Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honey-suckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all its round surveyed; And still I thought that shattered tower The mightiest work of human power, And marvelled as the aged hind, With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind, Of forayers who, with headlong force, Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, Their southern rapine to renew, Far in the distant Cheviots blue, And home returning, fill'd the hall With revel, wassail-rout, and brawl. Methought that still with trump and clang The gateway's broken arches rang; Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, Glared through the windows' rusty bars; And ever, by the winter hearth, Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms— Of patriot battles won of old By Wallace Wight and Bruce the Bold— Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While stretched at length upon the floor, Again I fought each combat o'er, Pebbles and shells, in order laid, The mimic ranks of war displayed, And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, And still the scattered Southron fled before."[43]