How lonely is this spot, deep silence reigns,
For ceased has ev'ry human stir and sound;
But Natures voice is heard in gentle strains
Which, with a stilly noise float softly round.
Each leaf which quivers in those giant elms
Falls audibly upon the list'ning ear;
As if it came from distant spirit realms
A warning of some death or danger near.
And now strange thoughts & mournful, slowly rise
Each after other in a gloomy train,
Each quickly born, and each as quickly dies;
Drunk by the whirlpool, of oblivions main.
But sudden bursting from a thick dark cloud,
Lo! the bright sun illumines all the earth,
Tinting with amber light, that wat'ry shroud:
Radiant with beauty as he now walks forth
Behold the valley glows with life and light,
Each raindrop bears a glory in its cell
Of Saphire, ruby, or fair em'rald bright
Rejoicing in its palace clear to dwell.
A wilderness of sweets yon wood appears;
Before a forest full of darksome gloom:
But now a smilling face of joy it wears;
Not such as would befit the churchyard tomb.
But all unseemly mid the gladness stands,
That ancient castle, mossed and grey with age;
Once the resort of warlike feudal bands:
Where oft was heard the battles bloody rage
Now an unbroken stillness reigns around:
No warriors step rings through the arched halls;
No hunting horns sweet thrilling mellow sound,
Or bloodhounds yell reverb[e]rates mid those walls.
The gladsome sunshine suits not with this place,
And golden light seems but to mock the grey
And sorrowing aspect, of its furrowed face;
Too time worn to be joyous with the day.
But when black night o'ershadows with her wing
The prospect; and the solemn nightingale;
Sings while the moon her silver light doth fling
In trem'lous lustre o'er the sleeping vale.
Then awfully that ancient castle tow'rs,
From out its grove of venerable trees;
Amid whose scathed and withered leafless bow'rs,
Howls mournfuly the peircing winter breeze.
Or on some day, when dark and sombre clouds,
Veil dismally the blue etherial sky:
When the deep grandeur of their blackness shrouds,
The sun with all its majesty on high.
When fitful shadows hurry o'er the plain;
And curtain round this mountain's hoary brow:
Rolling voluminous, a misty train;
Or curled in floating vapours ev'n as now;
Those light soft clouds piled in the ambient air,
Of gentle lustre and of pearly hue:
Calm in the summer twilight, mild, and fair;
Distilling from their pureness, crystal dew.
For ceased has ev'ry human stir and sound;
But Natures voice is heard in gentle strains
Which, with a stilly noise float softly round.
Each leaf which quivers in those giant elms
Falls audibly upon the list'ning ear;
As if it came from distant spirit realms
A warning of some death or danger near.
And now strange thoughts & mournful, slowly rise
Each after other in a gloomy train,
Each quickly born, and each as quickly dies;
Drunk by the whirlpool, of oblivions main.
But sudden bursting from a thick dark cloud,
Lo! the bright sun illumines all the earth,
Tinting with amber light, that wat'ry shroud:
Radiant with beauty as he now walks forth
Behold the valley glows with life and light,
Each raindrop bears a glory in its cell
Of Saphire, ruby, or fair em'rald bright
Rejoicing in its palace clear to dwell.
A wilderness of sweets yon wood appears;
Before a forest full of darksome gloom:
But now a smilling face of joy it wears;
Not such as would befit the churchyard tomb.
But all unseemly mid the gladness stands,
That ancient castle, mossed and grey with age;
Once the resort of warlike feudal bands:
Where oft was heard the battles bloody rage
Now an unbroken stillness reigns around:
No warriors step rings through the arched halls;
No hunting horns sweet thrilling mellow sound,
Or bloodhounds yell reverb[e]rates mid those walls.
The gladsome sunshine suits not with this place,
And golden light seems but to mock the grey
And sorrowing aspect, of its furrowed face;
Too time worn to be joyous with the day.
But when black night o'ershadows with her wing
The prospect; and the solemn nightingale;
Sings while the moon her silver light doth fling
In trem'lous lustre o'er the sleeping vale.
Then awfully that ancient castle tow'rs,
From out its grove of venerable trees;
Amid whose scathed and withered leafless bow'rs,
Howls mournfuly the peircing winter breeze.
Or on some day, when dark and sombre clouds,
Veil dismally the blue etherial sky:
When the deep grandeur of their blackness shrouds,
The sun with all its majesty on high.
When fitful shadows hurry o'er the plain;
And curtain round this mountain's hoary brow:
Rolling voluminous, a misty train;
Or curled in floating vapours ev'n as now;
Those light soft clouds piled in the ambient air,
Of gentle lustre and of pearly hue:
Calm in the summer twilight, mild, and fair;
Distilling from their pureness, crystal dew.