Page:The stuff of manhood (1917).djvu/170

 Was the site once of a city great and gay, (So they say) Of our country's very capital, its prince Ages since Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far Peace or war.

"Now,—the country does not even boast a tree,         As you see, To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills          From the hills Intersect and give a name to, (else they run          Into one,) Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires          Up like fires O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall          Bounding all, Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed,          Twelve abreast.

"And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass         Never was! Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads          And embeds Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,          Stock or stone— Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe          Long ago; Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame          Struck them tame; And that glory and that shame alike, the gold          Bought and sold.

"Now,—the single little turret that remains         On the plains, By the caper overrooted, by the gourd          Overscored, While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks          Through the chinks— Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time          Sprang sublime.