University of Virginia Library


180

FROM AN ITALIAN SONNET.

Isaid to Time, “This venerable pile,
Its floor the earth, its roof the firmament,
Whose was it once?” He answered not, but fled
Fast as before. I turned to Fame, and asked,
“Names such as his, to thee they must be known.
Speak!” But she answered only with a sigh,
And, musing mournfully, looked on the ground.
Then to Oblivion I addressed myself,
A dismal phantom, sitting at the gate;
And, with a voice as from the grave, he cried,
“Whose it was once I care not; now 'tis mine.”