Dark Lake
 (From R. Southey poetry)

High on a rock whose castled shade darkened the lake below,
In ancient strength majestic stood the tower
The fisher in the lake below
Durst never cast his net, nor ever swallow in its waves
Her passing wings would wet.

The cattle from its ominous banks
In wild alarm would run, though parched with thirst, and faint beneath the summer
For sometimes when no passing breeze
The long lank sedges waved, All white with foam, and heaving high
Its deafening billows raved;