XLVIII

Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought

      That ages, empires, and religions there

      Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought;

      For such as he can lend,—they borrow not

      Glory from those who made the world their prey;

      And he is gathered to the kings of thought

      Who waged contention with their time's decay,

And of the past are all that cannot pass away.