Persia now roams the waste in broken hordes;
Imperial Rome, once mistress of the world,
Is but a province, where a mitred priest
Sits in the Cæsar’s chair without his crown;
And the furr’d Russ directs the haughty race
Of Ghengis Khan and fiery Tamerlane.
Ages and kingdoms feel the sickle click,
And bend their heads before the reaper’s tread.
The Earth shall have her autumn, with the stars
That sang in beauty at the birth of Time;