The breathless beauty of the Summer night
Gave not that Austrian [folio 2] standard, to the sweep
Of fresh’ning Zepyr, or wild Storm-blast’s might;
But motionless, it drooped, in eve’s soft, dying light
In that Stern Fortess, there were arch, and tow’r,
And Iron-wrought lattice, narrow, deep-embaye’d;
Where the gloom gather’d thick as night’s mid hour
And round about it, hung a chilling shade,
Which told of dungeons, where the light ne’er play’d,
Of prison-walls, of fetter-bolt and chain;