Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/352

310 On half-Strung harps whine mournful to the blast.

While mountain spirits prate to river sprites,

That dames may listen to the sound at nights;

And goblin brats, of Gilpin Horner's brood

Decoy young Border-nobles through the wood,

And skip at every step, Lord knows how high,

And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why;

While high-born ladies in their magic cell,

Forbidding Knights to read who cannot spell,

Despatch a courier to a wizard's grave,

And fight with honest men to shield a knave.

Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan,

The golden-crested haughty Marmion,