Excerpt from The Escorial: A Prize Poem, Recited in the Theatre, Oxford, June 20, 1860
For now the shrines, the palace courts are still No sounds of banquet through their chambers thrill: Round nave and choir no full-voiced organs sweep, No black-stoled monks their holy vigil... s keep.
Yet, though the dust of ages drape her thrones, Though ruin scowl above her cold grey stones, Though shattered shrines and ravaged pomp betray The Frenchman's rage 8, the vengeance of Houssaye: Still wintry storms unheeded vex her crown.
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