Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820/Bruges (1)

by William Wordsworth

SONNET.

BRUGES.¹

Bruges I saw attired with golden light(Streamed from the west) as with a robe of power:'Tis passed away;—and now the sunless hour,That slowly introducing peaceful nightBest suits with fallen grandeur, to my sightOffers her beauty, her magnificence,And all the graces left her for defenceAgainst the injuries of time, the spiteOf Fortune, and the desolating stormsOf future War. Advance not—spare to hide,O gentle Power of Darkness! these mild hues;Obscure not yet these silent avenuesOf stateliest Architecture, where the formsOf Nun-like Females, with soft motion, glide!