LXX.

Hath it been thus?--Or did ye grace the halls, Once peopled by the mighty? Haply there, In your still grandeur, from the pillar’d walls Serene ye smiled on banquets of despair,[219] Where hopeless courage wrought itself to dare The stroke of its deliverance, midst the glow Of living wreaths, the sighs of perfumed air, The sound of lyres, the flower-crown’d goblet’s flow. --Behold again!--high hearts make nobler offerings now!