Home, Sweet Home!

They light the beacon fires the hills around. All eyes are eager bent Across the sea, To cheer the night, a hundred voices blent To chase the gloomy hours with mirthful glee; Till shouts of "ship ahoy!" made every heart rebound.

And now for many days round Ragnor's Towers, Life flowed in mirth away. "Let feast and song," Sir Harold said, "have free unbounded sway; For grief and gloom have lorded here too long. Let joy now rule the day and strew her path with flowers!"

And yet a year, the joy-bells ring again; For sons are born to sires Of knightly fame. Once more the swains, light up the beacon fires; Old Hastyngs flashed to Normanhurst the flame; For Harold had to Eric given Ruth's hand and Ralph's domain.