I

There was a King of Liang — a king of wondrous might —
Who kept an open palace, where music charmed the night —

II

Since he was Lord of Liang a thousand years have flown,
And of the towers he builded yon ruin stands alone.

III

There reigns a heavy silence; gaunt weeds through windows pry,
And down the streets of Liang old echoes, wailing, die.