IX.

The golden lamp here sheds its pearly light,
Within the cedar'd panels, dusky pale;
No mirror'd walls the wandering glance invite,
No gauzy curtains drop the misty veil.
And there the vista leads of lessening doors,
And there the summer sunset's golden gleam
Along the line of darkling portrait pours,
And warms the polish'd oak or ponderous beam.


X.

Hark! from the depths beneath that proud saloon
The water's moan comes fitful and subdued,
Where in mild glory yon triumphant moon
Smiles on the arch that nobly spans the flood--
And here have kings and hoary statesmen gazed,
When spring with garlands deck'd the vale below,
Or when the waning year had lightly razed
The banks where Avon's lingering fountains flow.


XI.

And did no minstrel greet the courtly throng?
Did no fair flower of English loveliness
On timid lute sustain some artless song,