No tree, no shrub its foliage rears
But o’er the wrecks of other years,
Temples and domes, which long have been
The soil of that enchanted scene.
There the wild fig-tree and the vine
O’er Hadrian’s mouldering villa twine;[104]
The cypress, in funereal grace,
Usurps the vanish’d column’s place;
O’er fallen shrine and ruin’d frieze
The wall-flower rustles in the breeze;