Some future time I hope ’twill be my fate,
My joy, to welcome you at Rollingate.”
Going by the church, the band clash’d with the bells;
Which, with the cannons’ boom at intervals—
And oft—produced the most discordant sounds,
Resembling yells of hungry kennell’d hounds.
At length the second archway strikes the eye:
The glossy banner, stretch’d across the sky,
Reveal’d those sacred words—“God give him health.”
(Now, as ’twas certain Arnold lack’d not wealth,