Classic Poem

Thou , who in Farleigh's ivied bower,
Sitt'st musing on remember'd power,
To whom reflection's eye recalls
The glories of her roofless halls;
Reminded by the fitful breeze
Of long-forgotten minstrelsies;
By shrubs that crown the turret's height,
Of the red flag that stream'd so bright
When warriors laid them here to rest,
And bowed to dames the blood-dyed crest,
And Cromwell sheath'd his untired sword
To share the feast with Hungerford:—
Though mournful, o'er thy musing heart
The gleam of faded glories dart,
Give not that rising sigh its way,
Nor grieve that pride should so decay.
High blazed the hall in regal state,
But want hung shivering on the gate.
Unclad, untill'd the desert scene
Nor glowed in gold, nor smiled with green.
Who battles shared might feasts attend;
The spoiler was his chieftain's friend;
While pined, unwelcome and forgot,
The tenant of the peaceful cot.
For him nor jasmine bloom'd beneath,
Nor woodbine clomb with upward wreath,
To meet the slanting thatch, where played
From darksome elms the waving shade.
Nor portal brown, nor rustic seat
Gave air and shade for noon's retreat:
Nor flower-entangled casement peep'd
Through bowers in tears of morning steep'd;
No comfort smooth'd his lowly bed,
No Houlton liv'd to bless his shed.