Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/35

 The throne of nations, fall'n! obscur'd in dust; Ev'n yet majestical: the solemn scene Elates the soul, while now the rising sun Flames on the ruins in the purer air Tow'ring aloft upon the glittering plain, Like broken rocks, a vast circumference! Rent palaces, crush'd columns, rifled moles, Fanes roll'd on fanes, and tombs on bury'd tombs! Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisk Immense along the waste; minuter art, Gliconian forms, or Phidian, subtly fair, O'erwhelming; as th' immense leviathan The finny brood, when near Ierne's shore Outstretch'd, unwieldy, his island length appears Above the foamy flood. Globose and huge, Gray-mouldering temples swell, and wide o'ercast The solitary landscape, hills and woods, And boundless wilds; while the vine-mantled brows The pendent goats unveil, regardless they Of hourly peril, tho' the clefted domes Tremble to every wind. The pilgrim oft, At dead of night, 'mid his oraison hears Aghast the voice of Time, disparting tow'rs, Tumbling all precipitate down-dash'd, Rattling around, loud thund'ring to the moon; While murmurs soothe each awful interval Of ever-falling waters; shrouded Nile, Eridanus, and Tiber with his twins, And palmy Euphrates: they with dropping locks Hang o'er their urns, and mournfully among The plaintive echoing ruins pour their streams. Yet here, advent'rous in the sacred search Of ancient arts, the delicate of mind, Curious and modest, from all climes resort, Grateful society! with these I raise