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OME of the Percy’s high-born race,
 * Home of their beautiful and brave,

Alike their birth and burial-place,
 * Their cradle and their grave!

Still sternly o’er the castle gate Their house’s Lion stands in state,
 * As in his proud departed hours;

And warriors frown in stone on high, And feudal banners “flout the sky”
 * Above his princely towers.

A gentle hill its side inclines,
 * Lovely in England’s fadeless green,

To meet the quiet stream which winds
 * Through this romantic scene

As silently and sweetly still, As when, at evening, on that hill,
 * While summer’s wind blew soft and low,

Seated by gallant Hotspur’s side, His Katherine was a happy bride,
 * A thousand years ago.