With carven doors of chrysolite,

And walls of sombre syenite,

They wrought mine olden sepulchre!

About the griffin-guarded plinth,

White blossoms crowned the scarlet vine;

And burning orchids opaline

Illumed the palm and terebinth.

On friezes of mine ancient fame,

The cypress wrought its writhen shade;

And through the boughs the ocean made