Of fortune, and the desolating storms
Of future war. Advance not—spare to hide,
O gentle Power of darkness! these mild hues;
Obscure not yet these silent avenues
Of stateliest architecture, where the Forms
Of nun-like females, with soft motion, glide!
This is not the first poetical tribute which in our times has been paid to this beautiful City. Mr. Southey, in the Poet's Pilgrimage, speaks of it in lines which I cannot deny myself the pleasure of connecting with my own.
"Time hath not wronged her, nor hath Ruin sought
Rudely her splendid Structures to destroy,
Save in those recent days, with evil fraught,