With awe that own’d their sovereignty of mien.
Ages have vanish’d since those hearts were cold,
And still those shatter’d forms retain their godlike mould.
XCVII.
Midst their bright kindred, from their marble throne
They have look’d down on thousand storms of time;
Surviving power, and fame, and freedom flown,
They still remain’d, still tranquilly sublime!
Till mortal hands the heavenly conclave marr’d.
The Olympian groups have sunk, and are forgot—