I left the mantling shade, in moral mood;
And seated by the maid's sequester'd side,
Pensive, the mould'ring monuments I view'd.
Inexorably calm, with silent pace
Here Time has pass'd—What ruin marks his way!
This pile, now crumbling o'er its hallow'd base,
Turn'd not his step, nor could his course delay.
Religion raised her supplicating eyes
In vain; and Melody, her song sublime;
In vain, Philosophy with maxims wise,