“First Sketch of Andernach” [poem]
FIRST SKETCH OF “ANDERNACH.” a
We have wound a weary way;
Twilightʼs 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 oʼer their basalt bed;—
Now with wide expanded breast,
Now between the hills compressed:
Ever noble, ever free,
Flows his river majesty.
Now upon the evening skies
Andernachʼs grey ruins rise,— 1
Memorials of the Roman power;— 2
Buttress and battlement and tower,
Decaying, falling fast away,
The monuments of Cæsarʼs sway,—
In heaps together loosely thrown,—
The sculptured head, inscriptioned stone:
Unguarded now the bridgeʼs length,
And failing fast its archesʼ strength;
The green sod in the moat is growing,
The cold wind in the chambers blowing,
And, flapping through the thin night‐air,
The owl and bat, the tenants there.
Twilightʼs mists are gathering grey.
Purple now the hills are showing;
Bright the western clouds are glowing.
Lashing on with giant force,
System generated line number
5Rolls the Rhine his sullen course;
Flash his waves with flamy red,
Eddying oʼer their basalt bed;—
Now with wide expanded breast,
Now between the hills compressed:
System generated line number
10Ever noble, ever free,
Flows his river majesty.
Now upon the evening skies
Andernachʼs grey ruins rise,— 1
Memorials of the Roman power;— 2
System generated line number
15Buttress and battlement and tower,
Decaying, falling fast away,
The monuments of Cæsarʼs sway,—
In heaps together loosely thrown,—
The sculptured head, inscriptioned stone:
System generated line number
20Unguarded now the bridgeʼs length,
And failing fast its archesʼ strength;
The green sod in the moat is growing,
The cold wind in the chambers blowing,
And, flapping through the thin night‐air,
System generated line number
25The owl and bat, the tenants there.