From the steep promontory gazed
The stranger, raptured and amazed,
280 And, "What a scene were here," he cried,
"For princely pomp, or churchman's pride!
On this bold brow, a lordly tower;
In that soft vale, a lady's bower;
On yonder meadow, far away,
285 The turrets of a cloister gray;
How blithely might the bugle-horn
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