ROBERT BROWNING
ii 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.
in 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)
IV
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 prest,
Twelve abreast.
v
And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass
Never was^ Such a carpet as, this summer-time, overspreads
And embeds Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,
Stock or stone
VI
Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe Long ago;
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