As if they from a silver tree had fallen—
And oaken leaves that, driven by whirling blasts,
Sunk down, and lay immersed in dead repose 50
For Time’s invisible tooth to prey upon
Unsightly objects and uncoveted,
Till thou with crystal bead-drops didst encrust
Their skeletons, turned to brilliant ornaments.
But, from thy bosom, should some venturous[396] hand 55
Abstract those gleaming relics, and uplift them,
However gently, toward the vulgar air,