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6
The Switzer loves; whose every note is fraught
With thoughts of love, youth, home, and happiness.
II.
Raised on a rock, which overlooks the vale,
Like to it's guardian power, a ruin stands;
It is o'ergrown with ivy, and the walls,
Mouldering around, are grey with aged moss.
There is yet left one melancholy hall—
The roof is riven, and the big rain drops beat
Upon the weed-grown floor; and sun-beams fall,
Almost in mockery, for they are fraught
With too much happiness for scenes like this.
It has no tapestry but the spider's web;
No music save the skreech owl's fearful cry,
And the bat's noisy flight, or when the wind
Howls thro' it drearily, as 'twere a dirge
