Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/75

As to the port the galley flew,
Higher and higher rose to view
The Castle with its battled walls,
165The ancient Monastery's halls,
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile,
Placed on the margin of the isle.

X.
In Saxon strength that Abbey frown'd,
With massive arches broad and round,
170 That rose alternate, row and row,
 On ponderous columns, short and low,
  Built ere the art was known,
 By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk,
 The arcades of an alley'd walk
175  To emulate in stone.
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane
Had pour'd his impious rage in vain;
And needful was such strength to these,
Exposed to the tempestuous seas,
180Scourged by the winds' eternal sway,
Open to rovers fierce as they,
Which could twelve hundred years withstand
Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand.
Not but that portions of the pile,
185Rebuilded in a later style,
Show'd where the spoiler's hand had been;
Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen
Had worn the pillar's carving quaint,
And moulder'd in his niche the saint,
190And rounded, with consuming power,
The pointed angles of each tower;
Yet still entire the Abbey stood,
Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.

XI.
Soon as they near'd his turrets strong,
195The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song,