Ranged o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.
Vain, transitory splendours! could not all
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall I
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart:
Thither no more the peasant shall repair
To sweet oblivion of his daily care:
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,