Empires have sunk since thou wert first revered,
And varying rights have sanctified thy shrine.
The dust is round thee of the race that rear’d
Thy walls; and thou—their fate must soon be thine!
But when shall earth again exult to see
Visions divine like theirs renew’d in aught like thee?
XC.
Lone are thy pillars now—each passing gale
Sighs o’er them as a spirit’s voice, which moan’d
That loneliness, and told the plaintive tale