Flashed on my view, I had not loved thee more!
Scene of immortal deeds! thy walls have rung
To pealing shouts from many a warrior's tongue;
When first thy founder, Redwald of the spear,
Manned thy high towers, defied his foemen near,
When, girt with strength, East-Anglia's king of old,
The sainted Edmund, sought thy sheltering hold,
When the proud _Dane_, fierce Hinguar, in his ire
Besieged the king, and wrapped thy walls in fire,
While Edmund fled, but left thee with his name
Linked, and for ever, to the chain of fame:
Then wast thou great! and long, in after years
Thy grandeur shone--thy portraiture appears
From history's pencil like a summer-night,
With much of shadow, but with more of light!

Pile of departed days!--my verse records,
Thy time of glory, thy illustrious Lords,
The fearless Bigods--Brotherton--De Vere,
And Kings, who held thee in their pride, or fear,
And gallant Howards, 'neath whose ducal sway
Proud rose thy towers, thy rugged heights were gay
With glittering banners, costly trophies rent
From men in war, or tilt, or tournament,
With all the pomp and splendour that could grace
The name, and honours of that warlike race.
Howards! the rich! the noble! and the great!
Most brave! most happy! most unfortunate!
Kings were thy courtiers!--Queens have sued to share
Thy wealth, thy triumphs--e'en thy _name_ to bear!