But they sunk by the engine and Time’s dark flood,
And the wild grass waves where the columns stood.
In the festal halls where eyes grew bright,
And pulses leaped at the viol’s sound,
Thou hast winged the hours with mystic flight,
As the feast and the mazy dance went round:
Now mosses the mouldering walls encrust,
And the pulseless hearts of the guests are dust.
Yes creeds have changed, and forms have grown old—
Empires and nations have faded away