Shall spread my terrors to the distant hills;
Its formidable shade shall throw
Far o'er the broad expanse below,
Where winds yon mighty flood, and amply fills
With flowery verdure, or with golden grain,
The fairest fields thar deck my new domain.
And London's towers, that reach the watchman's eye,
Shall see with conscious awe my bulwark climb the sky.
II.
Unchang'd, through many a hardy race,
Stood the rough dome in sullen grace;
Still on its angry front defiance frown'd,
Though monarchs kept their state within,
Still murmur'd with the martial din,
The gloomy gateway's arch profound,
And armed forms, in airy rows,
Bent o'er the battlements their bows,
And blood-stained banners crown'd its hostile head;
And oft its hoary ramparts wore
The rugged scars of conflict sore;
What time, pavilion'd on the neighbouring mead,
The indignant Barons ranged in bright array
Their feudal bands, to curb despotic sway;
And leagued a Briton's birth-right to restore
From John's reluctant grasp, the roll of Freedom bore.
III.
When, lo! the King,[1] that wreath'd his shield
With lilies pluck'd on Cressy's field,
Heaved from its base the mouldering Norman frame!
New glory cloth'd the exulting steep,
The portals tower'd with ampler sweet;
And Valour's soften'd Genius came,
Here held his pomp, and trail'd the pall
Of triumph through the trophied hall;
And War was clad awhile in gorgeous weeds;
Amid the martial pageantries,
While Beauty's glance adjudg'd the prize,
And beam'd sweet influence on heroic deeds.
Nor long, ere Henry's[2] holy zeal, to breathe
A milder charm upon the scene beneath,
Rear'd in the watery glade his classic shrine,
