
“ I sat beneath an olive’s branches grey,1
And gazed upon the site of a lost town,2
By sage and poet raised to long renown ;3
Where dwelt a race that on the sea held
sway,4
sway,4
But is their being’s history spent and run,9
Whose spirits live in awful singleness,10
Each in its self-formed sphere of light or
gloom ;11
gloom ;11
Henceforth, while pondering the fierce deeds
then done,12
then done,12
Such reverence on me shall its seal im-
press13
press13
As though I corpses saw, and walked the
tomb.”14
tomb.”14