Written at Penhurst, in Autumn 1788. <br />YE towers sublime! deserted now and drear! <br />Ye woods! deep sighing to the hollow blast, <br />The musing wanderer loves to linger near, <br />While History points to all your glories past: <br />And startling from their haunts the timid deer, <br />To trace the walks obscured by matted fern, <br />Which Waller's soothing lyre were wont to hear, <br />But where now clamours the discordant hern! <br />The spoiling hand of Time may overturn <br />These lofty battlements, and quite deface <br />The fading canvass whence we love to learn <br />Sydney's keen look, and Sacharissa's grace; <br />But fame and beauty still defy decay, <br />Saved by the historic page--the poet's tender lay!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xlvi-3/
