But scatter’d ruins, and a silent plain.
The proud canals, that once Rayanna grac’d,
Their course neglected and their waters gone,
Among the levell’d sands are dimly trac’d,
Like moss-grown letters on a mouldering stone.
Rayanna say, how many a tedious year
Its hallow’d circle o’er our heads hath roll’d,
Since to my vows thy tender maids gave ear,
And fondly listen’d to the tale I told?
How oft, since then, the star of spring, that pours