Page:Old Castles.djvu/10

But adding grace to grace, and charm to charm,
Its viaducts most rare across them spanned,
And linking field to field, and farm to farm–
The ornaments of all the pleasant land–
But heightening what at first they seemed to harm,
Beauty with beauty still delighting well.
But thou hast more, O Carlisle, than thy streams!
Thy castled heights crown many a charming rood,
Renowned in olden story; field and fell,
Through many a league of gracious solitude,
Where yet perchance some genuine bard still dreams,
Bearing sure witness to the ancient feud
Of Scot and Briton, and the Roman strength
That interposed between them, and subdued
The vagrant Pict to British force at length.
And age by age the gathering centuries round,
Thy history’s written still upon the ground,
Which compasses thee around, or far or near,
The travelled wanderer catching something here
To-day, if skilful, of the ancient sound,
Of the fierce strife of Saxon and of Gael,
Which through long centuries kept thee desolate.
And intermixed with these of far off date,
Wrought in with antique zeal, flows many a tale
Of Dane and Druid, and the famous state
In which King Arthur kept his Yule feast here.
Nor is there wanting in the grammary
Of that far age, the names of holier fame,
Or tales of purer import; where we dwell
Within these walls, the holy Cuthbert came,
The guest of Egfrid, visiting the well–
True relic of the times–the Romans made;