With plaintive close!
Proud Castle! though the days are flown
When once thy towers in glory shone;
When music through thy turrets rung,
When banners o’er thy ramparts hung,
Though ’midst thine arches, frowning lone,
Stern Desolation rear his throne;
And Silence, deep and awful, reign
Where echo’d once the choral strain;
Yet oft, dark ruin! lingering here,