Xiii

All, all was cheerless to the horizon's bound; The weary eye--which, wheresoe'er it strays, Marks nothing but the red sun's setting round, Or on the earth strange lines, in former days Left by gigantic arms--at length surveys What seems an antique castle spreading wide; Hoary and naked are its walls, and raise Their brow sublime: in shelter there to bide He turned, while rain poured down smoking on every side.