Far down it shines, on the blue Danube’s breast,
As calmly, wavelessly its waters glide
On to th’ appointed regions of their rest,
The Sea, profound and hoary, waste and wide;
Whose black’ning billows swell in ever restless pride.
High o’er the river rose a rocky hill,
With barren sides, precipitous, and steep:
There, ’gainst the sunset heav’ns, serene, and still
Frown’d the dark turrets of a feudal Keep.
Its folded flag, hung in the air asleep;