 | Nugae Canorae |  |
175
SONNET I. TO CRAIG-MILLAR CASTLE.
1796.
This hoary labyrinth, the wreck of time,
Solicitous, with timid step I tread;
Scale the stern battlement, or vent'rous climb,
Where the rent watch-tower bows its grassy head:
These dark, damp caverns breathe mysterious dread,
Haply still foul with tinct of ancient crime;
Methinks some spirit of the ennobled dead
High-bosom'd maid, or warrior chief sublime
Haunts them: the flappings of the heavy bird
Imagined warnings fearfully impart;
And the dull breeze below, that feebly stirred,
Seemed the deep breathing of an o'er-charged heart.
Proud Tower, thy halls now stable the lean herd,
And musing Mercy smiles that such thou art!
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