So thou, fair City! disarray'd Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 90 As stately seem'st, but lovelier far Than in that panoply of war. Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne Strength and security are flown; Still as of yore, Queen of the North! 95 Still canst thou send thy children forth. Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, Than now, in danger, shall be thine, Thy dauntless voluntary line; 100 For fosse and turret proud to stand, Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, Full red would stain their native soil, Ere from thy mural crown there fell 105 The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. And if it come,--as come it may, Dun-Edin! that eventful day,-- Renown'd for hospitable deed, That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 110 In patriarchal times whose care Descending angels deign'd to share; That claim may wrestle blessings down On those who fight for The Good Town, Destined in every age to be 115 Refuge of injured royalty; Since first, when conquering York arose, To Henry meek she gave repose, Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. 120 Truce to these thoughts!--for, as they rise, How gladly I avert mine eyes, Bodings, or true or false, to change, For Fiction's fair romantic range, Or for Tradition's dubious light, 125 That hovers 'twixt the day and night: Dazzling alternately and dim Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, Knights, squires, and lovely dames, to see, Creation of my fantasy, 130 Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, And make of mists invading men.-- Who loves not more the night of June Than dull December's gloomy noon? The moonlight than the fog of frost? 135 But can we say, which cheats the most?