We have wound a weary way,
a
Twilights mists are gathering grey, Purple now the hills are showing Bright the western clouds are glowing Lashing on with giant force,
Rolls the Rhine his sullen course, Flash his waves with flamy red, Eddying oer their basalt bed, Now with wide expanded breast Now between the hills compressed,
Buttress and battlement and tower, Decaying, falling fast away, The monuments of Caesars sway, In heaps together loosely thrown, The sculptured head, inscriptioned stone
Unguarded now the bridges length, And failing fast its arches strength The green sod in the moat is growing The cold wind in the chambers blowing And flapping through the thin night air