Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/199

 Higher than the pillared height Of that strange cliff‑side bright With basalt towers whose might Strong time bows down.

And the old fierce ruin there Of the old wild princes' lair Whose blood in mine hath share Gapes gaunt and great Toward heaven that long ago Watched all the wan land's woe Whereon the wind would blow Of their bleak hate.

Dead are those deeds; but yet Their memory seems to fret Lands that might else forget That old world's brand;