Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap,
Or quietly self-buried in earth’s mould,
Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep
Flung from yon cliff a shadow large and cold.
There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold;
Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep
Of winds–though winds were silent–struck a deep
And lasting terror through that ancient Hold.
Its line of Warriors fled;–they shrunk when tried
By ghostly power:–but Time’s unsparing hand
Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land;
And now, if men with men in peace abide,
All other strength the weakest may withstand,
All worse assaults may safely be defied.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXVIII - Journey Renewed
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXIX - No Record Tells Of Lance Opposed To Lance
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXX - Who Swerves From Innocence, Who Makes Divorce
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXXI - The Kirk Of Ulpha To The Pilgrim's Eye
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXXII - Not Hurled Precipitous From Steep To Steep
Write poetry? Submit your poem to Poetry Catalog