Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that nevermore shall feel
The rapture of the fight.
Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless songs shall tell,
When many a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell;
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight.
Nor Time's remorseless doom,
Shall dim one ray of holy light