Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1821.pdf/7



Oh! many a temple, once sublime, Beneath the blue, Italian sky, Hath nought of beauty left by time, Save thy wild tapestry: And, rear'd midst crags and clouds, ’tis thine To wave where banners wav'd of yore; O'er mouldering towers, by lovely Rhine Cresting the rocky shore.

High from the fields of air look down Those eyries of a vanish'd race, Homes of the mighty, whose renown Hath pass'd, and left no trace. But thou art there—thy foliage bright, Unchang'd the mountain-storm can brave, Thou that wilt climb the loftiest height, And deck the humblest grave.

The breathing forms of Parian stone, That rise round grandeur's marble halls, The vivid hues, by painting thrown Rich o'er the glowing walls; Th' Acanthus, on Corinthian fanes, In sculptur'd beauty waving fair; These perish all—and what remains? Thou, thou alone art there!

'Tis still the same—where'er we tread, The wrecks of human power we see, The marvels of all ages fled, Left to Decay and thee! And still let man his fabrics rear, August in beauty, grace, and strength, Days pass—Thou Ivy never sere, And all is thine at length! H.