TWILIGHT'S mists are gathering grey Round us on our winding way; Yet the mountain's purple crest Reflects the glories of the west. Rushing on with giant force, Rolls the Rhine his glorious course; Flashing, now, with flamy red, O'er his jagg'd basaltic bed; Now, with current calm and wide, Sweeping round the mountain's side; Ever noble, proud, and free, Flowing in his majesty. Soon upon the evening skies Andernacht's grim ruins rise; Buttress, battlement and tower, Remnants hoar of Roman power. Monuments of Cæsar's sway, Piecemeal mouldering away. Lo, together loosely thrown, Sculptured head and lettered stone; Guardless now the arch-way steep To rampart huge and frowning keep; The empty moat is gay with flowers, The night-wind whistles through the towers, And, flapping in the silent air, The owl and bat are tenants there. |