Received its mortal wound.
O years of pride!
In undiscoverable futurity,
Yet unevolved, your destined glories lay;
And all that Roderick in these fated scenes
Beheld, was grief and wretchedness, ... the waste
Of recent war, and that more mournful calm
Of joyless, helpless, hopeless servitude.
’Twas not the ruin’d walls of church or tower,
Cottage or hall or convent, black with smoke;