FALLEN, and diffused into a shapeless heap, Or quietly self-buried in earth's mould, Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep, Flung from yon cliff a shadow large and cold. There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold; Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep Of winds--though winds were silent--struck a deep And lasting terror through that ancient Hold. Its line of Warriors fled;--they shrunk when tried By ghostly power:--but Time's unsparing hand 10 Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land; And now, if men with men in peace abide, All other strength the weakest may withstand, All worse assaults may safely be defied.
