Page:Poems and extracts - Wordsworth.djvu/93



Dyer. Fallen, fallen, a silent heap! Behold the pride of pomp, The throne of nations, fall'n! obscured in dust; Even yet niajestical: the solemn scene Elates the soul, while now the rising sun Flames on the ruins in the purer air Towering aloft upon the glittering plain. Like broken rocks, a vast circumference! Rent palaces, crushed columns, rifled moles. Fanes roll'd on fanes, and tombs on buried tombs! Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisk Immense along the waste; minuter art, Gliconian forms, or Phidian, subtly fair, 0'erwhelming; as the vast leviathan The finny brood, when near Irene's shore Rh