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SONG,. AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE, Upon the Restoration of Lord
Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors. High in the
breathless Hall the Minstrel sate, And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.
Behold her how She smiles to-day On this great throng, this bright array ! Fair
greeting doth she send to all From every corner of the Hall ; But, chiefly, from
above the Board Where sits in state our rightful Lord, A Clifford to his own
Glad were the Vales, and every cottage hearth ; The Shepherd Lord was
honoured more and more : And, ages after he was laid in earth, " The Good Lord
Clifford" was the name he bore. XXXIV. Yes ! full surely 'twas the Echo, Solitary,
Song, at the Feast of Brougham Castle. Henry Lord Clifford, &c. &c, who is the
subject of this Poem, was the son of John Lord Clifford, who was slain at Towton
Field; which John Lord Clifford, as is known to the Reader of English History, was
It may further be observed, that Lord Clifford, who was then himself only twenty-
five years of age, had been a leading Man and Commander, two or three years
together in the army of Lancaster, before this time ; and, therefore, would be less
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the kitten of the filling leaves bp[y willam words worth
My favorite is "Solitary Reaper". When I first read it, I fell in love with the poem. It's like Wordsworth wrote it for me only.
I always feel understood and totally embraced everytime I read this poem and walk away with a full heart.