University of Virginia Library


319

THREE YEARS.

A lordly castle on a moor,
Its hundred windows, row by row,
With blood-red sunset all of a glow;
(No king a statelier house could show,)
With its fifty banners all of a blow.
A hundred turrets spouting fire,
Four black walls, gaping, split and rent;
A crimson cloud that like a tent
Wavers above it. Hark! there went
A shriek as from a martyr sent!
A ruin on a thirsty waste—
A tottering wall, a winding stair;
A parapet that high in air
Hangs, grey, by lightning struck, and bare,
Though still the starling nestles there.