XVIII.

And now the country bleaker grew,
As to the upland grounds they drew;
A barren waste, so bleak and drear,
Is seen on every side:
No objects to the sight appear
The eye to glad, or heart to cheer,
In all the desert wide.
The ocean blue, with clustered isles,[10]
The only feature here that smiles;
Here glouring [11] o’er the German flood,
Bare Barmoor’s baby castle stood,
With pallid face of new built woe,
Sad contrast to the moor below.
The owner saw the hounds run by,
And, from a tower, joined in the cry;
Wondered he much who it could be
That led the joyous revelry:
To right, or left, the leading hound,
The Goblin Groom was always found.
“Oh!” cried the squire of Barmoor bare,
“Oh! like yon Elf, that I were there!”
Amazement seized his soul to find
The others were a mile behind.