Page:Felicia Hemans in The Monthly Magazine Volume 3 1827.pdf/5



thou that seas are sweeping Where domes and towers have been? When the clear wave is sleeping, Those piles may yet be seen; Far down below the glassy tide, Man's dwellings where his voice hath died!

Know'st thou that flocks are feeding Above the tombs of old, Which kings, their armies leading, Have linger'd to behold? A short smooth greensward o'er them spread, Is all that marks where heroes bled.

Know'st thou, that now the token Of cities once renown'd, Is but some pillar broken, With grass and wall-flowers crown'd; While the lone serpent rears her young Where the triumphant lyre hath rung?

Well, well I know the story Of ages pass'd away, And the mournful wrecks that glory Hath left to dull decay; But thou hast yet a tale to learn, More full of warnings, sad and stern.

Thy pensive eye but ranges Thro' ruin'd fane and hall— Oh! the deep soul hath changes More sorrowful than all! Talk not, while these before thee throng, Of silence in the place of song.

See scorn, where Love hath perish'd,    Distrust, where Friendship grew; Pride, where once Nature cherish'd,    All tender thoughts and true; And shadows of oblivion thrown O'er every trace of idols gone.

Grieve not for tombs far-scatter'd,    For temples prostrate laid; In thine own heart lie shatter'd    The altars it had made! Go, sound its depths in doubt and fear— Heap up no more its treasures here! F.H.