Roll'd thundering down the moon-light dell,—

Re-echo'd moorland, rock, and fell;

Into the moon-light tarn it dash'd,

Their shores the sounding surges lash'd,
And there was ripple, rage, and foam;

But on that lake, so dark and lone,
Placid and pale the moonbeam shone

As Jutta hied her home.

END OF CANTO SECOND.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO THIRD.

VOL. VIII.

K

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO THIRD.

I.

GREY towers of Durham! there was once a time
I view'd your battlements with such vague hope,
As brightens life in its first dawning prime;

Not that e'en then came within fancy's scope
A vision vain of mitre, throne, or cope;
Yet, gazing on the venerable hall,

Her flattering dreams would in perspective ope
Some reverend room, some prebendary's stall,-
And thus Hope me deceived as she deceiveth all.