Page:The stuff of manhood (1917).djvu/170

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.

"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,)
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 pressed,
          Twelve abreast.

"And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass
          Never was!
Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads
          And embeds
Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,
          Stock or stone—
Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe
          Long ago;
Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame
          Struck them tame;
And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
          Bought and sold.

"Now,—the single little turret that remains
          On the plains,
By the caper overrooted, by the gourd
          Overscored,
While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks
          Through the chinks—
Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time
          Sprang sublime.