Gents Mag 1839 part 2 p.512

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	Gentleman's Magazine 1839 part 2 p.512 My mild and winsome jasmine tree, That climbest up the dark grey wall, The tiny flowrets seem to glee Like silver spray-drops down to fall; Say, did they from their leaves thus peep When mail'd moss-troopers rode the hill; When helmed warders paced the keep, and bugles blew for Belted Will? My free and feathery jasmine tree, Within the fragrance of thy breath Yon dungeon grated to its key, And the chain'd captive pined for death. On border fray, on feudal crime, I dream not while I gaze on thee; The chieftans of that stern old time Could ne'er have loved a jasmine tree.
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	-- Naworth Castle

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