Eaten under by age. The earth holds fast
The master masons: low mouldering they lie
In the hard grip of the grave, till shall grow up and perish
A hundred generations. Hoary and stained with red,
10 Through conquest of kingdoms, unconquered this wall endured,
Stood up under storm. The high structure has fallen.
Still remains its wall-stone, struck down by weapons.
They have fallen . . . . . . . . .
[Ground] down by grim fate . . . . . . . .
15 [Splendidly] it shone . . . . . . . .