III.

In that old pile there was a huge square tower, Whence look'd the warder in its days of power; Still, in the arch below, the eye could tell Where on the steel-clad van the grim portcullis fell; And from the arrow-headed casements, deep Sunk in the walls of the abandon'd keep, The gaze look'd kingly in its wide command O'er all the features of the subject land; From town and hamlet, copse and vale, arise The hundred spires of Ruthven's baronies; And town and hamlet, copse and vale, around, Its arms of peace the azure Avon wound.