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TALE OF THE 14TH CENTURY.
The rays of night, the tints of time,
Soft-mingling on its dark-gray stone,
O'er its rude strength and mien sublime,
A placid smile have thrown;
And far beyond, where wild and high,
Bounding the pale blue summer sky,
A mountain vista meets the eye,
Its dark, luxuriant woods assume,
A pencilled shade, a softer gloom;
Its jutting cliffs have caught the light,
Its torrents glitter through the night,
While every cave and deep recess,
Frowns in more shadowy awfulness.
Scarce moving on the glassy deep,
Yon gallant vessel seems to sleep,
But, darting from its side,
How swiftly does its boat design
A slender, silvery, waving line
Of radiance o'er the tide!
