A crumbling ruin, once a city's pride,
The well-pleased eye through withering oaks descried,
Where Sadness, gazing on time's ravage, hung,
And Silence to Destruction's trophy clung—
Save that, as morning songsters swell'd their lays,
Awaken'd Echo humm'd repeated praise.
}
The lark on quavering pinion woo'd the day,
}
Less towering linnets fill'd the vocal spray,