In Britain's earlier annals thou wert set
Among the cities of our sea-girt isle: Of what thou wert
- some tokens linger yet In yonder ruins; and this
roofless pile, Whose walls are worshipless, whose tower -
a mark, Left but to guide the seaman's wandering bark!
Yet where those ruins grey are scatter'd round,
The din of commerce fill'd the echoing air; From these
now crumbling walls arose the sound Of hallow'd
music, and the voice of prayer; And this was
unto some, whose names have ceased, The wall'd and gated
City of the East!
Thus time, and circumstance, and
change, betray The transient tenure of the worldly
wise! Thus "Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,"
And leaves no splendid wreck for fame to prize. While
nature her magnificence retains, And from the contrast
added glory gains.
Still in the billowy boundlessness
ouspread, Yon mighty deep smiles to the orb of
day, Whose brightness o'er this shatter'd pile is shed
In quiet beauty. - Nature's ancient sway Is audible in
winds that whisper round, The soaring sky-lark's song,
the breaker's hollow sound. |