From Aln’s sweet, bosky banks I come;
Northumberland my home.”
“Then freely smite thy sweet, sweet lyre,
Thy lyre of far-spread fame;
The bold Percy—his castle’s there;
Wide swells his warrior name.
“For thou his harper art I ween;
I see gleam on thy vest,
Thy paly, cusped, silver moon,
The Saracen’s proud crest.