I.
Joy reign’d in Dunse’s[5] distant seat,
Thro’ tavern, market place, and street,
The scene of many a valiant feat
In days of distant yore.
But now those distant days are fled,
Peace rears again her placid head,
And gory feud I hope is staid
To plague the land no more.
Where garden is, was place of tilt
Or tournament, where blood was spilt;
Where stain’d was many a foeman’s hilt
With blood of knight laid low;
Now peeps the pea, from glowing bed,
Forgetful of December dread;
The broader bean, her leaf has spread
Th’ unhallow’d spot to show.