Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 33 1833.pdf/10



Your tents are desolate; your stately steps, Of all their choral dances have not left One trace beside the fountains: your full cup Of gladness, and of trembling, each alike Is broken: Yet, amidst undying things, The mind still keeps your loveliness, and still All the fresh glories of the early world Hang round you in the spirit's pictured halls, Never to change!