XXII.

On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath,[49] Are domes where whilome kings did make repair; But now the wild flowers round them only breathe: Yet ruined Splendour still is lingering there. And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair: There thou too, Vathek! England's wealthiest son,[bb][50] Once formed thy Paradise, as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done,[bc] Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun.