This page needs to be proofread.
130
Like me these elder-born of clay Enjoy'd the cheerful light,
Bore the brief burden of a day, And went to rest at night.
Far in the regions of the morn,
The rising sun surveys Palmyra's palaces forlorn.
Empurpled with his rays.
The spirits of the desert dwell Wliere eastern grandeur shone,
And vultures scream, hyaenas yell Hound Beauty's mouldering throne.
There the pale pilgrim, as he stands, Sees, from the broken wall.
The shadow tottering on the sands. Ere the loose fragment fall.
�� �
