Elegy on Newstead Abbey

"It is the voice of years, that are gone! they roll before me, with all their deeds." Ossian. NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome! Religion's shrine! repentant HENRY'S pride! Of Warriors, Monks, and Dames the cloister'd tomb, Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide, Hail to thy pile! more honour'd in thy fall, Than modern mansions, in their pillar'd state; Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall, Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.…