25 Death stole them all, the staunch band of warriors.
Their proud works of war now lie waste and deserted;
This fortress has fallen. Its defenders lie low,
Its repairmen perished. Thus the palace stands dreary,
And its purple expanse; despoiled of its tiles
30 Is the roof of the dome. The ruin sank to earth,
Broken in heaps —there where heroes of yore,
Glad-hearted and gold-bedecked, in gorgeous array,
Wanton with wine-drink in war-trappings shone:
They took joy in jewels and gems of great price,