It loiters still: And now it stirs no more.
This is the period few attain; the death
Of nature: Thus (so heav’n ordain’d it) life 540
Destroys itself; and could these laws have chang’d,
Nestor might now the fates of Troy relate;
And Homer live immortal as his song.
What does not fade? The tower that long had stood
The crush of thunder, and the warring winds, 545
Shook by the slow but sure destroyer Time,
Now hangs in doubtful ruins o’er its base.