« AnteriorContinuar »
There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep,
Some say that here a murder has been done,
What thoughts must through the Creature's brain have passed!
Even from the top-most Stone, upon the Steep,
For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race;
Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank,
But now here's neither grass nor pleasant shade;
The sun on drearier Hollow never shone;
So will it be, as I have often said,
Till Trees, and Stones, and Fountain all are gone."
"Gray-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well;
The Being, that is in the clouds and air,
The Pleasure-house is dust:—behind, before,
She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known;But, at the coming of the milder day, These monuments shall all be overgrown.
One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,
AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE,
Upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors.
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,
"From Town to Town, from Tower to Tower,
She lifts her head for endless spring,
They came with banner, spear, and shield;