QUEVEDO.
I saw, its lofty ramparts undermined,
Crumbling to earth, my native town decay;
I saw my fathers’ house, nor saw resign’d,
Alike assail’d Time’s not disdained prey:
Upon its black and Time-dishonour’d wall
My sword ancestral eager I survey’d;
Devouring Time, triumphant over all,
Had eaten into its corroded blade:
My shorten’d staff still yielded as I prest
The prop on which my age must yet rely,
And all on which my hand or eye could rest
Gave sad and solemn warning that we die.