The Hostel, or Inn, I

Joy reign’d in Dunse’s distant seat, Thro’ tavern, market place, and street, The scene of many a valiant feat In days of distant yore. But now those distant days are fled, Peace rears again her placid head, And gory feud I hope is staid To plague the land no more. Where garden is, was place of tilt Or tournament, where blood was spilt; Where stain’d was many a foeman’s hilt With blood of knight laid low; Now peeps the pea, from glowing bed, Forgetful of December dread; The broader bean, her leaf has spread Th’ unhallow’d spot to show.