Of the soul’s lightnings?—did ye not adorn
The pomp which earth stood still to gaze on, and to mourn?
LXX.
Hath it been thus?—Or did ye grace the halls,
Once peopled by the mighty? Haply there,
In your still grandeur, from the pillar’d walls
Serene ye smiled on banquets of despair,[219]
Where hopeless courage wrought itself to dare
The stroke of its deliverance, midst the glow
Of living wreaths, the sighs of perfumed air,