Heir of Antiquity!--fair castled Town, Rare spot of beauty, grandeur, and renown, Seat of East-Anglian kings!--proud child of fame, Hallowed by time, illustrious Framlinghame! I touch my lyre delighted, thus to bring To thee my heart's full homage while I sing! And thou, old Castle!--thy bold turrets high, Have shed their deep enchantment on mine eye, Though years have changed thee, I have gazed intent In silent joy, on tower and battlement, When all thy time-worn glories met my sight; Thou have I felt such rapture, such delight, That, had the splendour of thy days of yore Flashed on my view, I had not loved thee more! Scene of immortal deeds! thy walls have rung To pealing shouts from many a warrior's tongue; When first thy founder, Redwald of the spear, Manned thy high towers, defied his foemen near, When, girt with strength, East-Anglia's king of old, The sainted Edmund, sought thy sheltering hold, When the proud _Dane_, fierce Hinguar, in his ire Besieged the king, and wrapped thy walls in fire, While Edmund fled, but left thee with his name Linked, and for ever, to the chain of fame: Then wast thou great! and long, in after years Thy grandeur shone--thy portraiture appears From history's pencil like a summer-night, With much of shadow, but with more of light! Pile of departed days!--my verse records, Thy time of glory, thy illustrious Lords, The fearless Bigods--Brotherton--De Vere, And Kings, who held thee in their pride, or fear, And gallant Howards, 'neath whose ducal sway Proud rose thy towers, thy rugged heights were gay With glittering banners, costly trophies rent From men in war, or tilt, or tournament, With all the pomp and splendour that could grace The name, and honours of that warlike race. Howards! the rich! the noble! and the great! Most brave! most happy! most unfortunate! Kings were thy courtiers!--Queens have sued to share Thy wealth, thy triumphs--e'en thy _name_ to bear! Tyrants have bowed thy children to the dust, Some for their worth--and some who broke their trust! And there was _one_ among thy race, who died To Henry's shame!--his country's boast and pride: Immortal Surrey!--Offspring of the Muse! Bold as the lion, gentle as the dews That fall on flowers to 'wake their odorous breath, And shield their blossoms from the touch of death, Surrey!--thy fate was wept by countless eyes, A nation's woe assailed the pitying skies, When thy pure spirit left this scene of strife, And soared to him who breathed it into life: Thy funeral knell pealed o'er the world!--thy fall Was mourned by hearts that loved thee, mourned by all-- All, save thy murderers!--thou hast won thy crown: And _thou_, fair Framlinghame! a bright renown, Yes! thy rich temple holds the stately tomb, Where sleeps the Poet in his lasting home, Lamented Surrey!--hero, bard divine, Pride, grace, and glory of brave Norfolk's line.