Where nought is certain, save the uncertainty of fate?
V.
This goodly pile, upheaved by Wyatt’s toil,
Perchance than Holland’s edifice[103] more fleet,
Again red Lemnos’ artisan may spoil;
The fire alarm and midnight drum may beat,
And all bestrewed ysmoking at your feet!
Start ye? perchance Death’s angel may be sent,
Ere from the flaming temple ye retreat;
And ye who met, on revel idlesse bent,