XCIV.
O conquering Genius! that couldst thus detain
The subtle graces, fading as they rise,
Eternalise expression’s fleeting reign,
Arrest warm life in all its energies,
And fix them on the stone—thy glorious lot
Might wake ambition’s envy, and create
Powers half divine: while nations are forgot,
A thought, a dream of thine hath vanquish’d fate!
And when thy hand first gave its wonders birth,
The realms that hail them now scarce claim’d a name on earth.