Scarce a sickly, straggling flower
Decks the rough castle’s rifted tower;
Scarce the hardy primrose peeps
From the dark dell’s entangled steeps;
O’er the fields of waving broom
Slowly shoots the golden bloom;
And, but by fits, the furze-clad dale
Tinctures the transitory gale;
While from the shrubbery’s naked maze,
Where the vegetable blaze