And silent, downward cast her tearful eye.
Onward I pass’d, but sad and thoughtful grown,
When, stern in aspect o’er the ruin’d shrine
I saw Oblivion stalk from stone to stone.
“Dread power,” I cried, “Tell me whose vast design.”
He check’d my further speech, in sullen tone:
“Whose once it was, I care not; now ’tis mine.”
