172 CHATSWORTII AND HADDON HALL.
Receive us silently. How grim and gray Yon tall, steep fortalice above us towers ! Its narrow apertures, like arrow-slits, Jealous of heaven s sweet air, its dreary rooms Floored with rough stones, its uncouth passages Cut in thick walls, bespeak those iron times Of despotism, when o er the mountain-surge Rode the fierce sea-king, and the robber hedged The chieftain in his moat.
A freer style
Of architecture, clearly as a chart, Defines the isthmus of that middle state, After the Conquest, when the Saxon kernes With their elf-locks receded. Coarsely mixed, Norman with Gothic, stretch the low-browed halls, Their open rafters brown with curling smoke. Hearthstone and larder, as for giant race, Tell of rude, festal doings, when in state The stalwart baron, seated on the dais, Serf and retainer fitly ranged around, Gave hospitality at Christmas-tide ; The roasted ox, the boar, with holly crowned, And mighty venison pasty, proudly borne Tween a stout brace of ancient serving-men. The elements of rude and gentle times Were ill concocted then, and struggling held Each other in suspension, or prevailed Alternately. " Barbaric pearl and gold " Were roughly set ; and cumbrous arras hid The iron-hasped and loosely-bolted doors. Broad-branching antlers of the stag were then