Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Song

Song.

Air—"I've been roaming."

 

Stately towers! Blissful hours I have passed beneath your shade,When the flowers in your bowers Bloomed as though they ne'er could fade.

Mouldering ruin! Time is strewing Mosses o'er thy grey-bleached head,While the pattering leaves are scattering Autumn's trophies o'er the dead.

Falling towers! Vanished hours Left ye old and found me young;O'er your bowers fate now lowers, Silence dwells your halls among.

Lofty towers! Kingly powers Met your buttressed walls within;Through your portals proudest mortals Strode to join the battle's din.

Crumbled arches! Ruin marches O'er your pride of carved stone;Your foundation desolation Chooses for her silent throne.

Fallen towers! Peaceful hours Still I spend your courts among;Rank weed flowers choke your bowers; But each fragment has a tongue!