And tells that glory’s footstep there hath been.
There hath the spirit of the mighty pass’d,
Not without record; though the desert blast,
Borne on the wings of Time, hath swept away
The proud creations rear’d to brave decay.
But thou, lone region! whose unnoticed name
No lofty deeds have mingled with their fame,
Who shall unfold thine annals?—who shall tell
If on thy soil the sons of heroes fell,
In those far ages which have left no trace,