Classic Poem

Ye mould'ring walls where Titian colours glow'd,
— And the soft minstrel's echo charm'd the ear;
— Alas! how chang'd your dreary haunts appear,
The solitary Screech-owl's dark abode.

Where in yon gothic hall fair forms divine,
— Trip'd with light heel, or swam with graceful ease;
Now clasping ivy round the columns twine,
— And loathsome weeds infect the midnight breeze.

Those turrets wasting in the northern blast,
— No more with burnish'd radiance proudly glow,
But in small fragments on the pavement cast,
— Heap the wild ruin on the plain below;
Mingling with dust thy mighty roofs are laid,
So Man, the grandest work of Heav'n, shall fade.

Ye mould'ring walls where Titian colours glow'd,
— And the soft minstrel's echo charm'd the ear;
— Alas! how chang'd your dreary haunts appear,
The solitary Screech-owl's dark abode.

Where in yon gothic hall fair forms divine,
— Trip'd with light heel, or swam with graceful ease;
Now clasping ivy round the columns twine,
— And loathsome weeds infect the midnight breeze.

Those turrets wasting in the northern blast,
— No more with burnish'd radiance proudly glow,
But in small fragments on the pavement cast,
— Heap the wild ruin on the plain below;
Mingling with dust thy mighty roofs are laid,
So Man, the grandest work of Heav'n, shall fade.