Classic Poem

AT HARLECH CASTLE .

Harlech! with many a pause and cautious tread
 I climb thy walls; while, wafted from the main
 With low wail, as of one long racked by pain,
Through thy lone towers the breezes sigh; its head
The long lank grass that o'er thy tops is spread
 Waves wildly; thy hoar ruins show how vain
 Conquest's proud pageant, victory's lofty strain,
And the prized wreath that shades the hero's head.
Thy walls are mouldering; for the clanging steel
 And din of arms, the murm'ring mountain bee,
Humming amid the wild flowers that conceal
 Thy turret tops, shall give her minstrelsy;
 And Mercy smiles, e'en in thy courts, to see
The waving harvest all its stores reveal.