Years have grown old, and Time's relentless hand
Has fallen on many a head of regal pride;
Full many a warrior born to use command
Has kiss'd the grave—that dark repulsive bride;
And many an arch whose fair proportions spanned
The heaving wave, has sunk beneath the tide;
Earth's mightiest things have triumphed over night,
Gleamed forth in splendour, then been lost to sight.
But not so thou; for thou hast never known
What 'twas to feel the waning love of them,