1250s 

Cumber our parlour's narrow floor; Is long condemn'd to rest.html">rest and feed; Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam The needful water from the spring; 20 Beguiles the dreary hour no more, Inveighs against the lingering post, Of carriers' snow-impeded wains; Well pleased, to seek our city home; The Forest's melancholy range, 30 The busy day and social night. Not here need my desponding rhyme As erst by Newark's riven towers, 35 True,--Caledonia's Queen is changed, Within its steepy limits pent, And flanking towers, and laky flood, Denying entrance or resort, Above whose arch, suspended, hung 45 That long is gone,--but not so long, Jealous revolved the studded gate, A wicket churlishly supplied. Dun-Edin! O, how altered now, Thou sitt'st, like Empress at her sport, 55 Flinging thy white arms to the sea, That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, Ten thousand lines of brighter day. Not she, the Championess of old, She for the charmed spear renown'd, Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 66 She gave to flow her maiden vest; Free to the sight her bosom heaved; 70 Erst hidden by the aventayle; Her locks profuse, of paly gold. Had marvell'd at her matchless might, But looking liked, and liking loved. And charm Malbecco's cares a while; 80 Forgot his Columbella's claims, The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane; Bold as he was, a looser glance. .

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