And fringe these towers with garlands fair!
Sweets of the wild, oh! ever bloom
Unheeded on this ivied wall!
Lend to the gale a rich perfume,
And grace the ruin in its fall!
Thus round Misfortune’s holy head,
Would Pity wreaths of honour spread;
Like you, thus blooming on this lonely pile,
She seeks Despair, with heart-reviving smile!