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A TALE OF FARGEAU.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Of Fargeau,

A hill they call St. Victorine,

In Fargeau;

And on this hill a castle stands, -

A castle stands, or, rather, stood;

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For now the work of many hands

And many years, in solitude,

Standing gigantic,

Ruined, romantic,

Looks o'er the lands where once its lords held sway, - Sad, gloomy relic of a long-gone day.

There is a sound of revelry,

Wassail and mirth in the oaken hall;

There is boisterous fun and riotous glee,

Yet the minstrel brings,

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