Classic Poem

AT CONWAY CASTLE .

Ye towers that lift your aged brows sublime,
The mark of tempests; many a future day
Shall give you to my mind when far away:
Then, as bright Fancy leads me, I shall climb
Your tufted walls, scathed by the hand of time;
Haply her magic pencil may pourtray
Your festive halls, as when in proud array
Chiefs shared the banquet; then the forceful rhyme,
The song of bards, the wild harp's glowing strain,
Shall pass before me. Yet your blazing halls,
Your pristine grandeur, touch not like your walls,
With ivy crowned, and dashed with many a stain.
Ah! sacred are the thoughts that on me rise,
As through your mouldering towers the blast of evening sighs.