Yon cliff, that frowns with ruins old;[[21]]
Stout Ferrers there kept faithless ward,[[22]]
And Gaunt perform’d his Castle-guard.[[23]]
There captive Mary look’d in vain[[24]]
For Norfolk, and her nuptial train;
Enrich’d with royal tears the Dove,
But sigh’d for freedom, not from love.
’Twas once the seat of festive state,
Where high born dames and nobles sat;
While minstrels, each in order heard,[[25]]