"The bittern clamored from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill," but in the midst of a well cultivated corn farm, where the farmer looks with a jealous eye on visitors, wondering what they can want with the naked old keep, and complaining that they leave his gates open. He had been thus venting his chagrin to the driver of my chaise, and wishing the tower were down--a stiff business to accomplish--but withdrew into his house at my approach. Sterile and bare as is this wild scene, Scott dates from it, and no doubt correctly, his deep love of nature and ballad romance. In the Introduction to the third canto of Marmion, he thus refers to it:-- "It was a barren scene and wild, Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; But ever and anon between Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honeysuckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall. I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all his rounds surveyed; And still I thought the shattered tower The mightiest work of human power: And marveled as the aged hind With some strange tale bewitched my mind-- Of forayers, who, with headlong force, Down that same strength had spurred their horse, Their southern rapine to renew, Far in the distant Cheviots blue; And home returning, filled the hall With revel, wassail-rout, and brawl. Methought that still with trump and clang The gateway's broken arches rang; Methought grim features, seamed with scars, Glanced through the window's rusty bars. And even, by the winter hearth Old tales I heard of woe and mirth, Of lover's slights, of lady's charms: Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; Of patriot battles won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold; Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While stretched at length upon the floor, Again I fought each battle o'er; Pebbles and shells in order laid, The mimic works of war displayed; And onward still the Scottish lion bore, And still the scattered southron fled before."