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SONNETS.
87
III.
MALHAM COVE.
Was the aim frustrated by force or guile,
When giants scoop'd from out the rocky ground
—Tier under tier—this semicirque profound?
(Giants—the same who built in Erin's isle
That Causeway with incomparable toil!)
O, had this vast theatric structure wound
With finish'd sweep into a perfect round,
No mightier work had gain'd the plausive smile
Of all-beholding Phoebus! But, alas,
Vain earth!—false world! Foundations must be laid
In Heav'n; for, mid the wreck of is and was,
Things incomplete and purposes betrayed
Make sadder transits o'er truth's mystic glass
Than noblest objects utterly decayed.
