He traversed Lindheim’s lonely towers;
But voice and footstep thence had fled,
As from the dwellings of the dead,
And the sounds of human joy and woe
Gave place to the moan of the wave below.
The banner still the rampart crown’d,
But the tall rank grass waved thick around
Still hung the arms of a race gone by
In the blazon’d halls of their ancestry,
But they caught no more, at fall of night,