Farewell! the pilgrim seeks the shore

Farewell! the pilgrim seeks the shore, Once more we ply the sounding oar; And as I leap upon the strand, By Fancy’s form-creating wand, Their watch the warders keep, As by Tantallon’s towers I stand, That crown the wave-worn steep; Fair Clara waves her hand on high, While lordly Marmion gallops by; Till rising, like a warrior’s ghost, I see the Douglas’ form in awful shadows lost!

Here, like some veteran seared with scars, The castle’s front appears sublime, Which braved the brunt of civil wars, As now it mocks the siege of time; For, jealous of proud March’s power, The Douglas built this mighty tower; And soon that baron held command O’er the most powerful of the land; His country’s friend, his sov’reign’s dread, From royalty he ask’d no meed, Save that applause his bosom gave, Turbulent as the Pentland’s wave! Now bell’d the cat at Lauder bridge; Now bearded James on Stirling’s ridge; With haughty heart, unknown to yield, Stubborn as that upon his shield; For he whom thousand hearts obey’d, Ill brook’d when wavering monarchs sway’d; But when the sound of Southron’s horn Among his native valleys ran, All private feuds were held in scorn, And mighty Douglas led the van; As witness Cheviot’s fatal fray, As witness Flodden’s bloody day; The Stuart never held command O’er truer heart and firmer hand.