How awful is the silence of the waste,
Where nature lifts her mountains to the sky,
Majestic solitude, behold the tower
Where hopeless Owen, long imprison’d pin’d,
And wrung his hands for liberty, in vain
By Turner, the painter & poet.
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(It’s about some poor Welsh dude Owen who was imprissoned in the tower for 20 years by his brother Gywydd. I’d probably be a tyrant too if my name was Gwynydd.)
