Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/467

CANTO IV.] CXXIX.

Hues which have words, and speak to ye of Heaven,

Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument,

And shadows forth its glory. There is given

Unto the things of earth, which Time hath bent,

A Spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant

His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power

And magic in the ruined battlement,

For which the Palace of the present hour

Must yield its pomp, and wait till Ages are its dower.

CXXX.

Oh, Time! the Beautifier of the dead,

Adorner of the ruin —Comforter

And only Healer when the heart hath bled;

Time! the Corrector where our judgments err,

The test of Truth, Love—sole philosopher,

For all beside are sophists—from thy thrift,