VIII.
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nd now the vessel skirts the strandOf mountainous Northumberland;Towns, towers, and halls successive rise,And catch the nuns’ delighted eyes.Monkwearmouth soon behind them lay,And Tynemouth’s priory and bay;They marked, amid her trees, the hallOf lofty Seaton-Delaval;They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floodsRush to the sea through sounding woods;They passed the tower of Widderington,Mother of many a valiant son;At Coquet Isle their beads they tellTo the good saint who owned the cell;Then did the Alne attention claim,And Warkworth, proud of Percy’s name;And next, they crossed themselves, to hearThe whitening breakers sound so near,Where, boiling through the rocks, they roarOn Dunstanborough’s caverned shore;Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they there,King Ida’s castle, huge and square,From its tall rock look grimly down,And on the swelling ocean frown;Then from the coast they bore away,And reached the Holy Island’s bay.
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