I.
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HE breeze, which swept away the smoke,Round Norham Castle rolled,When all the loud artillery spoke,With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke,As Marmion left the hold.It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze,For, far upon Northumbrian seas,It freshly blew, and strong,Where, from high Whitby’s cloistered pile,Bound to St. Cuthbert’s holy isle,It bore a barque along.Upon the gale she stooped her side,And bounded o’er the swelling tide,As she were dancing home;The merry seamen laughed to seeTheir gallant ship so lustilyFurrow the green sea-foam.Much joyed they in their honoured freight;For, on the deck, in chair of state,The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed,With five fair nuns, the galley graced.
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