YE sovereign hills, and hallowed disarray Where what was Rome hath perished save the name! Alas, ye mean memorials of a fame And mortal excellence too rare to stay! Column, and arch, and theatre's display, The sculptured pomp, the glorious acclaim,— How soon to unremembering dust you came,— How soon but fable for the boors to say! What though a little span your art divine Did cope with Time,—on stealthy step and slow He tracked you down, and levelled with disdain; Then let me bear my longings, nor repine, Knowing the power that could such might o'erthrow Can bring as well the ending of my pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ORCHARD PIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI CRADLE SONG OF A SOLDIER'S WIFE by T. T. BARKER ROSETTE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER A GRACE BEFORE DINNER by ROBERT BURNS DAY LABORERS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: CHORUS (1) by THOMAS CAMPION |