Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/50



! let me sigh to think this ruin'd pile Was favour'd once with fortune's radiant smile; These moss-grown battlements, these ivy'd towers, Have seen prosperity's uncertain hours; Their heroes triumph'd in the scenes of war, While victory follow'd in her trophied car. Here, where I muse in meditation's arms, Perhaps the battle raged with loud alarms; Here glory's crimson banner waving spread, While laurel crowns entwin'd the victor's head; And here, perhaps, with many a plaintive tear, The mourner has bedew'd the soldier's bier. The scene of conquest pensive fancy draws, Where thousands fell, enthusiasts in their cause.