Page:National Lyrics.pdf/202

186

Tower and rampart o'er the Rhine —Ivy! all are thine!

High from the fields of air look down Those Eyries of a vanish'd race, Where harp, and battle, and renown, Have pass'd, and left no trace. But thou art there!—serenely bright, Meeting the mountain storms with bloom, Thou that will climb the loftiest height, Or crown the lowliest tomb! Ivy, Ivy! all are thine, Palace, hearth, and shrine.

'Tis still the same; our pilgrim tread O'er classic plains, thro' deserts free, On the mute path of ages fled, Still meets decay and thee.