8
SYBILLE.
Gay summer smil'd on Bothall bowers;
The setting sun's resplendent beam
Illum'd fair Mitford's mossy towers,
Tinging with gold the living stream.
The setting sun's resplendent beam
Illum'd fair Mitford's mossy towers,
Tinging with gold the living stream.
High o'er the flood the castle steep
Rear'd its proud head in feudal state;
Wav'd the broad banner on the Keep;
Frown'd darkly grim the arched gate.
Rear'd its proud head in feudal state;
Wav'd the broad banner on the Keep;
Frown'd darkly grim the arched gate.
No pleasant sound of wassel gay
Rung round Lord Bertram's splendid board;
Dark frowning, like his turrets grey,
Sate at the feast the haughty lord.
Rung round Lord Bertram's splendid board;
Dark frowning, like his turrets grey,
Sate at the feast the haughty lord.
