 | Julia Alpinula |  |
I.
With rapid wing, in ceaseless flight,Time sweeps along, and leaves in night,
Each brilliant aim of life's short span,
The joys and agonies of man.
The storied arch that Glory rears,
He mantles with the moss of years;
O'er Beauty's urn in ivy creeps;
Shatters the tomb where Valour sleeps;
And quenches, ne'er to burn again,
The fire in Freedom's awful fane.
2
Proudly to battle with the tower,
And when in ruin they have rent
Frieze, portico, and battlement,
With scoffing lip he seems to say,
“Weak worm! thou too shalt be as they;
“Soon passion's fire, shall leave thine eye;
“Ambition fade, and feeling die;
“Hope faithless find its splendid trust,
“Thy pride claim kindred with the dust,
“And nothing more of thee remain,
“Than what remembrance views with pain,
“A startling Vision, void and vain.”
| Julia Alpinula | |