Classic Poem

WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS OF A NOBLEMAN'S SEAT IN CORNWALL.

A MIDST these venerable drear remains
Of ancient grandeur, musing sad I stray;
Around a melancholy silence reigns,
That prompts me to indulge the plaintive lay.

Here liv'd Eugenio, born of noble race;
Aloft his mansion rose, around were seen
Extensive gardens, deck'd with every grace,
Ponds, walks, and groves, through all the seasons green.

Ah! where is now its boasted beauty fled?
Proud turrets that once glitter'd in the sky,
And broken columns, in confusion spread,
A rude misshapen heap of ruins lie.

Of splendid rooms no traces here are found:
How are these tottering walls by tune defac'd!
Shagg'd with vile thorn, with twining ivy bound,
Once hung with tapestry, with paintings grac'd'

In ancient times, perhaps, where now I tread,
Licentious Riot crown'd the midnight bowl,
Her dainties Luxury pour'd, and Beauty spread
Her artful snares to captivate the soul:

Or here, attended by a chosen train
Of innocent delight, true Grandeur dwelt,
Diffusing blessings o'er the distant plain,
Health, joy, and happiness, by thousands felt.

Around now Solitude unjoyous reigns,
No gay gilt chariot hither marks the way,
No more with cheerful hopes the needy swains
At the once bounteous gate their visits pay.

Where too is now the garden's beauty fled,
Which every clime was ransack'd to supply?
O'er the drear spot see desolation spread,
And the dismantled walls in ruins lie!

Dead are the trees that once, with nicest care
Arrang'd, from opening blossoms shed perfume,
And thick with fruitage stood the pendent pear,
The ruddy colour'd peach and glossy plum.

Extinct is all the family of flowers;
In vain I seek the arbour's cool retreat,
Where ancient friends in converse pass'd the hours,
Defended from the raging dogstar's heat.

Along the terrace-walks are straggling seen
The prickly bramble and the noisome weed,
Beneath whose covert crawls the toad obscene,
And snakes and adders unmolested breed.

The groves, where Pleasure walk'd her rounds, decay,
The mead, untill'd, a barren aspect wears;
And where the sprightly fawn was wont to play,
O'ergrown with heath, a dreary waste appears.

In yonder wide-extended vale below,
Where osiers spread, a pond capacious stood;
From far by art the stream was taught to flow,
Whose liquid stores supplied the' unfailing flood.

Oft here the silent angler took his place,
Intent to captivate the scaly fry —
But perish'd now are all the numerous race,
Dumb is the fountain, and the channel dry.

Here, then, ye great! behold the' uncertain state
Of earthly grandeur — beauty, strength, and pow'r,
Alike are subject to the stroke of Fate,
And flourish but the glory of an hour.

Virtue alone no dissolution fears,
Still permanent though ages roll away:
Who builds on her immortal basis, rears
A superstructure time can ne'er decay.