Poems (Classic Reprint)

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Excerpt from Poems Tis night, and on huge tow ring hills No sound is heard save of the rills, And of the sweet-toned nightingale That sings amid the bloomy dale, While, rising o'er the summits gray, The moon sends down her silver ray. But who is she, yon venturous maid Seeming in royal garb arrayed, And wandering 'mong those steeps alone, Where not one guiding path is shown? Before her lie wild scenes of dread, That strong men, even, might fear to tread, Tho' armed, and clad from crown to heel With best wrought garb of triple steel, For there, behold, in days of yore A mighty troop their pennants bore At early dawn of summer's day, Intent on fierce, victorious fray, Who, ere the suns all radiant power Had dried the dew on leaf and flower, Found all their vaunt was but a breath, All their reward but sudden death, And still their bones lie bleaching there, And often on the mountain air, Wierd, ghostly voices forth are sent From hollow skull and huge rock rent, Whilst, mingled with the crumbling dust, Swords, shields, and spears and helmets rust. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.