 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
34
XXXVIII.
The pile is full; and oh, what splendours thereRush, in thick tumult, on the entering eye!
The Gothic shapes, fantastic, yet austere;
The altar's crown of seraph imagery;
Champion and king that on their tombstones lie,
Now cluster'd deep with beauty's living bloom;
And glanced from shadowy stall and alcove high,
Like new-born light, through that mysterious gloom,
The gleam of warrior steel, the toss of warrior plume.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |