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Droop on their thrones, and, like pale spirits pining,
Vanish with morn.
O'er cities of old days,
Dumb creatures graze;
Palace and pyramid
In dust are hid;
Yea, the sky-searching tower
Stands but its hour.
Oceans their wide-stretched beds are ever shifting,
Sea turns to shore,
And stars and systems through dread space are drifting,
To shine no more.
Names perish that erst smote
Nations remote,
With panic, fear, or wrong;
Heroic song
Grapples with time in vain;
On to the main
Of dim forgetfulness for ever rolling,
Earth's bubbles burst;
Time o'er the wreck of ages sternly tolling
The last accurst.
