Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/330

246 Then empires fall to dust, then arts decay, And wasted realms enfeebled despots sway; Even Nature's changed ; without his fostering smile Ophir no gold, no plenty yields the Nile; The thirsty sand absorbs the useless rill, And spotted plagues from putrid fens distill. In desert solitudes then Tadmor sleeps, Stern Marius then o'er fallen Carthage weeps; Then with enthusiast love the pilgrim roves To seek his footsteps in forsaken groves, Explores the fractured arch, the ruined tower, Those limbs disjointed of gigantic power; Still at each step he dreads the adder's sting, The Arab's javelin, or the tiger's spring; With doubtful caution treads the echoing ground, And asks where Troy or Babylon is found. And now the vagrant Power no more detains The vale of Tempe, or Ausonian plains;