Sonnet 1. On the Ruins of Athens
Sad desolation marks the hallow'd place,
Where Athens, queen of cities, tow'r'd sublime:
Her prostrate walls confess the hand of Time,
And hostile bands her proud remains deface.
Yet still the musing Poet loves to trace
Where Plato taught in Learning's golden prime,
'Mid fragments mark'd with many a fading rhyme,
And mould'ring columns, nodding from their base.
So London, now the warlike Briton's pride,
The dread and envy of surrounding lands,
Her glorious triumphs past, may prostrate lie,
A mournful heap, and near the lonesome tide
Of far-fam'd Thames, the fierce Barbarian bands
Pass her proud ruins with regardless eye.
Where Athens, queen of cities, tow'r'd sublime:
Her prostrate walls confess the hand of Time,
And hostile bands her proud remains deface.
Yet still the musing Poet loves to trace
Where Plato taught in Learning's golden prime,
'Mid fragments mark'd with many a fading rhyme,
And mould'ring columns, nodding from their base.
So London, now the warlike Briton's pride,
The dread and envy of surrounding lands,
Her glorious triumphs past, may prostrate lie,
A mournful heap, and near the lonesome tide
Of far-fam'd Thames, the fierce Barbarian bands
Pass her proud ruins with regardless eye.
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