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Updated: June 15, 2025
'Day set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone. The battled towers, the donjon keep, The loophole grates where captives weep, The flanking walls that round it sweep' are all still there, though the inmates are no longer captives.
Cheviot's little brother, with a note from Mary, lamenting that it was too wet for herself, but saying that Charles was coming in the afternoon, and that he intended to have a dinner-party of old Stoneborough scholars to welcome Leonard back.
I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all his round surveyed; And still I thought that shattered tower The mightiest work of human power; And marvell'd as the aged hind With some strange tale bewitched my mind, Of forayers, who, with headlong force, Down from that strength had spurred their horse, Their southern rapine to renew, Far in the distant Cheviot's blue, And, home returning, filled the hall With revel, wassail-rout, and brawl Methought that still, with tramp and clang The gate-way's broken arches rang; Methought grim features, seamed with scars, Glared through the window's rusty bars.
You must not mind if it hurts for a little while. An ejaculation of 'Poor little dear, here made him aware of the presence of the sexton's wife; but in reply to her offer to carry him in to Mrs. Cheviot's, Dickie faintly answered, 'Please let me go home; and Leonard, 'Yes, I will take him home.
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