APOLLO mourns another Parthenon In ruins! — Is the God of Love awake? And we — must we behold the world's heart break For peace and beauty ravished, and look on Dispassionate? — Rheims' gloried fane is gone: Not by a planet's rupture, nor the quake Of subterranean titans, but to slake The vengeance of a Goth Napoleon. O Time, let not the anguish numb or pall Of that remembrance! Let no callous heal Our world-wound, till our kindled pities call The parliament of nations, and repeal The vows of war. Till then, pain keep us thrall! More bitter than to battle — is to feel. |