The faithful Page he mounts his steed,A verse from Sir Walter Scott's poem "The Bridal Of Triermain."
And soon he cross'd green Irthing's mead,
Dash'd o'er Kirkoswald's verdant plain,
And Eden barr'd his course in vain.
He pass'd red Penrith's Table Round,
For feats of chivalry renown'd.
Left Mayburgh's mound and stones of power,
By Druid's raised in magic hour,
And traced the Eamont's winding way,
Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay.
Posted by Rhiannon
21st September 2005ce
Edited 1st January 2016ce