The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o"er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swellsBetween the banks which bear the vine; And hills all rich with blossomed trees,And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these,Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strewed a scene, which I should seeWith double joy wert thou with me !
And peasant girls, with deep-blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers,Walk smiling o"er this paradise; Above, the frequent feudal towersThrough green leaves lift their walls of grey; And many a rock which steeply lowers,And noble arch in proud decay,
Look o"er this vale of vintage bowers; But one thing want these banks of Rhine-Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine !
I send the lilies given to me;
Though long before thy hand they touch, I know that they must withered be,But yet reject them not as such; For I have cherished them as dear,Because they yet may meet thine eye, And guide thy soul to mine even here,When thou behold"st them drooping nigh, And know"st them gathered by the Rhine, And offered from my heart to thine!
The river nobly foams and flows-
The charm of this enchanted ground- And all its thousand turns discloseSome fresher beauty varying round;
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound Through life to dwell delighted here;Nor could on earth a spot be found To Nature and to me so dear,Could thy dear eyes in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine.
Lord Byron
Author.-George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) was born in London and educated at Harrow and Cambridge. His chief longer poems are Childe Harold (through which "I awoke one morning and found myselffamous " ), The Giaour (jowr), The Corsair, Lara, The Siege of Corinth, Don Juan, and The Prisoner of Chillon. He died of fever in Greece, whither he had gone to help the Greek insurrectionists.
General.- " Drachenfels " is the " dragon cliff " on the Rhine. Legends of dragons, of the Lorelei, the were-wolf, the wild hunter, and of other marvels abound in that part of the world. Why have we no castles along our Australian rivers? The verses here given are from "Childe Harold," but Byron is thinking of his own half-sister Augusta, whom he loved dearly. Close your eyes and see the pictures-the foaming river, cliffs, cities, towers, blue-eyed and flaxen-haired peasant girls, trees, flowers, vineyards. Yet something is wanting. Write a little essay on mateship.