Such gorgeous pictures as forbid restraint
Of gladness. Will it last?—
Oh, no! the moment flies.
The city’s margin of this evening scene
Is form’d by spires, and domes,
Uneven roofs of dwellings; where, within,
The wearied find their homes
In reeking atmosphere.
Yon tow’ring dome,[5] crown’d with a golden cross,
Not seemingly content