Explore "Oscar of Alva, a Tale" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How sweetly shines through azure skies, / The lamp of heaven on Lora's shore; / Where Alva's hoary turrets rise, / And hear the din of arms no more!
But often has yon rolling moon / On Alva's casques of silver play'd; / And view'd at midnight's silent noon, / Her chief's in gleaming mail array'd: