Where, shining through the flowery glade

Where, shining through the flowery glade, The mouth of Tyne translucent streams, Within a lilac covert’s shade St Baldred’s shrine romantic gleams. Two Saxon arches still remain; But, Time, alas! with viewless hand Completes the labours of the Dane, And triumphs o’er the brand: For thou didst feel the shock of war When fiery Anlaf storming came, And horrid shrieks were heard afar As church and town were given to flame. Alas! that vengeance did not fall Upon the minstrel-muffled Dane, When harping bold in Brunsbury hall He stood before King Athelstane: Had the snake been crush’d in its gilded fold, The tide of war might have backward roll’d.