Classic Poem

In that old pump-room, as I stood alone
Beside the Bath, the old waters of the sun,
I thought of two past eras: All were gone
To evening haunts of pleasure and of fun.
As they went off to dine, and dance, and sup,
The Bath began to teem with modish ghosts,
A reach of Lethe, sending bubbles up
From bygone dandies, and forgotten toasts.
Then, for relief, I turn'd to see and hear
An older past, with fancy's eye, that takes
Fond retrospects, and fancy's ear, that makes
A sound of her own longings. Ofttimes here
A home and grave the peaceful Roman found
And little Caius coo'd on British ground.